History With My XXs Ch. 02

So it was me on the bubble and no one within light-years...

As anyone familiar with Part 1 will know.

And I'd played that way. I'd stayed in, not really expecting any signal from Carl, my partner, but nonetheless deep down assuming he would bail me out, somehow. Probably at the very last moment, the bastard, but he would, wouldn't he...of course he would. And then I was out of chips and holding my breath and he kept the hand going, Just as he'd said he would...

So that was that.

Naked. Bankrupt at the table and naked. Me As my grandmother used to say, 'there's no point in sugar coating reality – it can still taste just as sour on the first full bite and then you're out good sugar.' Bankrupt at the table and naked and with no one amongst the other five even close to sharing the limelight with me. And no one, including my partner, Carl, prepared to do anything except exploit my situation ruthlessly.

And no reason they should. I'd been naked only once, briefly, and that was more or less my choice at the very end of one of our sessions.

Everyone else had spent at least a little time in this predicament, and more than once. I'd relished putting each and every one of them through their paces. George, poor sod, had paid the price for a bad night for April and covered for her by throwing in perfectly good hands – the rest of us were convinced he'd done this – but he'd been naked by 9 pm and we'd been quite quite nasty to him. That was the night I'd sucked his huge cock, every 30 minutes throughout the night, to torment him, and that was the night I decided I'd rather not internally accommodate the monstrous organ—and now it seemed entirely possible, unless I stepped very lightly, that I might have to. But it was Tami, the predator at heart, who worried me even more. Her stint two sessions ago had finished with Will not even opening the boot to provide her with her coat, for the entire weekend, which they spent at an inexpensive hotel at the seaside. I did return her clothes, at the start of our next session. But it wasn't difficult to tell she'd revel in revenge.

That was, actually, more or less my thinking process. Less than 30 minutes had elapsed, making this the earliest anyone had ever been naked. Me. With all of the terms and conditions outlined above.

You see, naked and bankrupt meant there wasn't anywhere for me to go and there wasn't anything for me to do. I just had to sit there in that close little kitchen, surrounded by clothed people playing cards – for at least 3 –plus hours -- and wait until someone won. Winning being to accumulate 60 chips. At which point she or he took possession of me. He or she could go on playing, or not. The key thing for me was they could do as they liked with me (short of permanent marking or injury). Ask Tami how that worked out, when I not only put her through it throughout the evening, I also kept her clothes 'for the weekend.' Which gave her husband, Will, the opening to leave the boot locked and kidnap her into what amounted to naked sexual slavery for the weekend. And it was going to be a long long night for me. And I wasn't sure I wanted any of them to garner that much control over me.

I certainly didn't want to sit there while it played out. Fretting. And...well, I should explain that alternatively, I could be provoked into speaking. Since there were few rules around what players still in the game couldn't actually do to me, any sound from me would be construed as "a complaint" and then I would become her or his property, to right the balance created by my 'inappropriate complaint', until someone formally won me. In other words, our little group had it worked out to make these evenings sexual adventures for all concerned, with elements of dominance and submission built in to the equation.

Short version: I was going to be someone's sub, starting soon probably – and quite possibly I was going to be passed hand to hand. And I was helpless to prevent this, or to influence the 'who' or 'when'.

And I was not anticipating any mercy, from anyone. And the room temp had shot up dramatically so no doubt I was flushing crimson. I may even have been breathing erratically, the way you do – because boys and girls I was flat out, humiliatingly, randy to the point of no return.

And Tami struck straightaway, opening the window to my immediate left. "Clear some of the smoke," she said, perfectly reasonably. Since in those days everyone smoked and the room was becoming stuffy.

So the cold air blew right on me, and slid down my body. And it would go on blowing on me, and sliding down my naked quivering body for hours. And hours. So I took the initiative, in the form of the third alternative.

"I'll double down..."

That set the already charged atmosphere crackling. Tami, helpfully of course, slipped out of the room for 2 books. One was slid across the floor, and I pulled it under the table with my foot and put my foot on it. (FYI, for those who have seen the pic, you can see the book. Oh, and FYI, it was Carl who took that pic—and any number of others. Although he didn't take all of them for that night) The other book would remain on the table unless I lost. At which point, for the remainder of the evening, anyone could move the book anytime, anywhere, within reasonable distance, and I would have to keep each foot on a book. I would have to do other things too. Lots of other things.

Unless I won.

But that was unlikely. Doubling-down was exciting because the odds were stacked impossibly against, well, me this time. Everyone who doubled-down had lost. Even Carl, albeit much much later in the evening during one session, when I had pushed him over the edge and finished up winning his ass for a time.

So I had traded initiative for...well, I did mention my pussy was pulsing and my nipples, exposed directly to the chill breeze, were sensitized enough I was afraid I might moan out loud if anyone so much as brushed them. So I fell on my sword...and doubled down.

They selected the game I couldn't handle. The game that had got me into this mess. My 10 chips were gone after the first round of the table. It was that simple. They simply raised each other until everyone had done so and I was out of chips. De facto defeated, I winced as the second book landed heavily on the lino floor. Tami merely smiled, lighting another cigarette.

It was all me now. It was me who had to force my weak knees out of the chair. It was me who had get one foot on each book. It was me who had to stand there, stark naked, in front of these 5 people – for the first time in our 9 sessions.

It was me who fluffed out her hair, feigning nonchalance. It was me sweating out the details. Details like Carl passing around the camera so everyone could take their own pix and keep them. Details like the way Will casually reached over to pluck gently at my pubic thatch. Details like peaking, right there, mere moments after I'd lost...

Full view. No denying it either. I'd been cacophonous. I 'd clenched Tami's helpfully proffered forearm in one hand and Carl's hair in the other. I'd cum and cum and cum.

Earning the nickname 'Slag'.

"Slag?"

"Yes, sir," I stepped down from the books and retrieved the bottle, crossing the room to collect a fresh ale. Then I spent the rest of that hand standing beside Will whilst his free hand explored my tush and down under, one finger tracing my swollen and oh so hypersensitive pussy lips. Knowing he would announce, as he did, making it all very light and therefore utterly destructive, that "Slag seems to be very wet. Has anyone else noticed?"

Before being allowed to return to the books. Which had moved just that little bit farther apart, stretching me a little more...

And who knew George was that talented with his hands. Well, presumably April...clever girl. I mean he was uncanny. He had a finger bang on my clit from the moment he made contact. Completely. Utterly. Helpless. Me. No one could stand there and ignore that. But I couldn't even string whole thoughts together. He simply went on playing the hand in question whilst I disintegrated. I tried desperately but couldn't keep from shaking and quivering...I couldn't stand still, let alone keep both hands behind my back...and through the increasing haze I could see people watching closely now, grinning...

George had 'won', through my ill-discipline – Tami's phrase – the right to,well... I was leaned forward, forearms and elbows on the table, whilst George slid his chair back beside me. The others took a break between hands to sip drinks and smile and quip at my expense. I know the camera whirred repeatedly but I was soon beyond that level of conscious observation.

I think it was two fingers and the pace was slow, slow, slow, slow, then fast and hard until I was hanging on grimly but I wasn't really hanging on at all because it was out of my control – especially when he expertly altered speed and depth. I think today they call it 'forced orgasms'. I just thought of it as hell and every time I surfaced George's fingers were still there, sometimes slow and gentle so I could feel every movement, every response ripple of my internal muscles, sometimes pounding like a piston. Somewhere along the way, Tami and Will, now seated opposite, had taken one forearm each and I was face down on the table, and I did wonder at one stage what the other residents of the block of flats thought about the noise emanating through the still open window. But that was fleeting because his fingers shifted gears again and, well, thought wasn't possible...

"Slag?"

"Yes, Ma'm" I'd been caught, my right foot not in contact with the book. They'd left me alone, in my own haze, in fact floating in never-never land, for a while. Pleading cramp wouldn't make any difference though.

"Slag?"

They were ganging up. "Yes, Sir."

Carl held up his empty bottle.

To Tami, I said, "Ma'm, would you like me to get the hairbrush for my much deserved spanking before or after I fetch sir his ale?"

"There's a wooden spoon in the drawer. You can get both at the same time."

"Yes, Ma'm, thank you Ma'm"

I hobbled down off the books and limped across the tight kitchen space.

"Slag is a bit smart-arsed..." That was George, whilst I was rummaging the drawers looking for the wooden spoon. "... She will be, yes," Tami chuckled. I was desperate to find it now, not wanting to provoke anyone further. There it was, wedged in the back: forcing me to have to bend into a spread-legged semi-squat to work it loose. "...Speaking of which," April joined the conversation, "Carl, how does Slag feel about anal...?"

Visions of George's huge cock ripping me in pieces blocked out the contents of the drawer....

I jumped, absolutely panic ridden when hands cupped my waist from behind. I started to plead... would've begged...would've got down on all fours and offered absolutely anything – after all, my pussy already felt like I'd been ravaged by a chimpanzee – I couldn't take any more, honestly...couldn't!... would have grovel, kiss feet, whatever...

But he was quicker, his voice soft. "Relax, it's me."

Carl!

"Since I've just won her ass I think I'll do the honours," he said, in his light hearted tone that caused everyone to chuckle, and me to actually sigh with relief and exhale slowly, as he used his feet to ease mine farther apart.

Which may not seem like the act of a white knight. But it was...he WAS my white knight...at least for that moment.