Rita & Rhiannon's Bet Ch. 04

Here is the other version of Rita's Bet that I had mentioned I was working on. When I had first though about the premise for Rita's Bet I was undecided about where to take the story. There were two possibilities that appealed to me. While writing the first idea (published as Rita's Bet) I decided to write the second premise too when I finished, and this is that story.

This story follows the same two main characters as Rita's Bet, Rita and Rhiannon, and essentially the same broad plot outline. You will notice the first chapter in this story as mostly identical to the first chapter of Rita's Bet. However, near the end of this first chapter this version of the story diverges from the first version. The plot of this version rejoins the plot of the first version near the end of the last chapter.

This story is considerably longer than the first version of Rita, and many of the character motivations are different from the first version. Also, this version fills in some of Rita's and Rhiannon's immediately relevant backgrounds. There is also a third major character, Lena, who makes her appearance in chapter five, and she drives the story the rest of the way.

As I mentioned at the foreword to Rita's Bet, I love comments and observations about my stories.

However, once again: I don't really have an interest in hearing about how a chapter is submitted in what you feel is the wrong category. And I don't really care to bother with comments from burgeoning junior lawyers who just have to tell me all about the dire potential legal consequences of the action in the story -- just enjoy the story (or don't) for what it is. I also don't have an interest in hearing from unfortunate boys whose woman done him wrong at some point in his life and now he just has to lash out and vent his anger at women in general and find an excuse to call them skanks or whores. And for those who like to post with the hope of influencing the story line -- my stories, including this one, are finished before I start submitting them.

But your comments and observations on the literary aspects of the story (and especially in this case the differences between the two versions of the story), plot, character, mood, foreshadowing, etc, are all welcome and eagerly addressed and responded to, whether posted in the comment section or sent privately

Please enjoy the story. It is presented in eight chapters.

Rita and Rhiannon's Bet -- Another Telling of Rita's Bet

Chapter Four

It was the same bed I now sat on, Rhiannon looking at me with a questioning look. All these recollections had flashed through my mind in an instant, but Rhiannon could tell I have been lost in thought or memory however briefly.

"You too?" Rhiannon asked.

"Me too what?" I asked in return.

"You know what I'm asking about, Rita," she said, and did I note just a hint of impatience at my reticence? "You got your ass roasted at initiation too? Didn't you?"

I could feel myself color, dropped my eyes and nodded my head. Then I realized that the initiation for the West football team cheer squad must be about the same as East's. After all it was only three years ago that some of the East cheer leaders would have migrated to West, taking the East traditions with them. They would have had to procure and christen their own paddle, but I supposed the general outline had remained the same.

I told Rhiannon my story in abbreviated fashion: my enforced hundred yard midnight streak, my absurd encounter with the dog walker, my inspection, my paddling, my naked drive home, and the near naked close encounter with my mom.

"Ouch!" Rhiannon exclaimed. "It sounds pretty much the same as mine." And she proceeded to tell me her story which was similar to mine, but not identical.

She, of course, had been initiated into the varsity the same year as me. We had a laugh when we realized that we had both been initiated the same Saturday night. She had been required to give her extra set of car keys to one of the cheer co-captains. She was to follow her instructions to the letter and told she was going to be watched.

While I was parking my car near DeeDee's, Rhiannon had been parking hers in the lot of one of the recreation department's ball fields. She had been told to park at the end of the lot near a huge, old tree, and right at the base of the light pole there. As I stripped in my car, she was standing outside hers as required and stripping, the glare of one of the lot's two sodium vapor lights brightly illuminating her sordid performance from directly above. She had been incredibly thankful that no one happened to be around the lot or field at the time. She locked both of the car doors. Then she put all of her clothing and her car keys into her car's trunk and closed the trunk top solidly. Then she was to wait: nude, and with no access to her car or clothing. She was told she could go as far as under the tree, but no farther.

I tried to imagine how exposed she must have felt. I had felt extreme unease at having been out at night on a dark and deserted street, a hundred yards from my clothing sitting on the front seat in my car. But Rhiannon had been nude, having stripped under what amounted to stage lights, and now stood outside, her clothes and car keys impossible even to retrieve, her car's doors locked.

Just as she slammed her trunk closed the whine of car tires on the nearby pavement made her duck down behind her car on the side away from the road. When the car had passed she made a dash for the darkness at the far side of the tree's immense trunk.

And so there she waited for what seemed like hours (but turned out to be about thirty minutes). The lot and the tree were on a bend in the road and a few times per minute a car would drive by on the nearby road. As the cars came from the two directions Rhiannon had to shift her position behind the wide tree trunk to keep out of the headlight beams.

For cars coming toward and past the lot from the lot's far end she could easily wait on that gloomy and concealing side of the tree. For a car moving in that direction the road curved to the left at the end of the lot, just about even with Rhiannon's tree.

The problem was cars coming from the other direction. As they approached from their route, nearing what would be for them a curve to the right, their headlight beams lit that otherwise shaded space Rhiannon could use to conceal herself. She was then obliged to avoid those spotlights by edging around the tree. But the more she crept in that direction the closer she came to entering the glare of the sodium vapor light and a point where she could be seen by cars from the other direction. When cars came from both directions, as they did several times, Rhiannon had to find a spot between her two positions, partly exposed in from both sides, press her body against the tree trunk as tightly as she could, and remain totally motionless and hope both cars' drivers were more concerned with watching the road than a stately old tree off to the side. Apparently they were all attentive, eyes-on-the-road drivers.

After fifteen or twenty minutes a car turned into the lot and pulled into a parking space at about the middle of the lot. Rhiannon peaked around the tree but could not tell who might be in the car, whether or not it was her teammates. She had hesitated, thinking it must be them. She had been waiting, nude and exposed, for what seemed an eternity. She was just about to step out from her place of concealment when all four of the car's doors opened simultaneously and out stepped six high school boys, five of whom she recognized from her school. Shit! What stories would she have had to live down starting at eight o'clock in the morning on the first day of school had they waited five more seconds to exit their car?

The kids wandered over to the ball field and under the curved shell of the backstop. Lighters sparked and the sweet and pungent odor from their joints soon wafted her way. They were mostly quiet, passing a joint or two around. She could hear murmured conversation but could not recognize words.

Then the headlights of a car dimly lit the dark side of the tree, their illumination quickly growing as the car they were on closed the distance toward Rhiannon's tree. She edged around toward the lit side of the tree, but in that position she was even more exposed to the backstop than she was to the road for cars coming the other way. Again she stayed absolutely still. She pretended the backstop was a tyrannosaurus rex whose vision reacted only to movement, and she hoped the same principle might work with reefer-addled stoners.

The car swept around the curve and on its way and her side of the tree was dark again. She crept slowly back around -- no sudden movements -- into the shadows.

"Holy shit!" one of the boys exclaimed, and Rhiannon had no trouble understanding their words now.

"What the fuck's a matter with you?" one of the others asked.

"Over by that tree! I just saw a naked girl! I swear it!" the first boy said.

Rhiannon said she could imagine all of them craning their necks to get a good look in her direction. She didn't dare peek out. She couldn't even know if they had decided to come over and see if there was any truth to their buddy's claim: wouldn't know until it was way too late.

There was an extended silence, and she didn't relax until she heard another voice say, "Enough loco weed for you, Prince Albert."

Another five minutes or so passed. She heard the giggles over by the backstop grow louder and more numerous.

"Hey, Rhiannon!" a voice shouted. It was loud and split the night air, coming from some distance away but not the direction of the backstop. She looked around the other side of the tree, the one away from the boys, and could see down the length of the parking lot and the street in front of it. Across the street from the far end of the parking lot sat a blue car. The doors were all open and a gaggle of girls in cheer outfits were standing around it or sitting on the hood or back. She had seen the car before, when she had pulled into the lot. It had been sitting there the whole time at a distance of maybe seventy or eighty yards

"Rhiannon!" one of the girls screamed again. Rhiannon stepped out and made herself visible to them, the tree trunk still between her naked body and the backstop and the now red-rimmed eyes near it.

"Rhiannon!" the shout came again. "You've got exactly thirty seconds to get in this car or we're out of here without you. So get your entirely and completely bare fucking naked body in gear and get over here!"

She hesitated for only a second before bolting into the clear toward the safety and shelter of the car. There was a ten yard dash across grass to the edge of the parking lot. Then she had to slow to a careful and wincing walk to cross a portion of the parking lot since the surface was of gravel and stone and even her shoes had been denied her. Then after she had carefully stepped past the sharp and annoying stones she reached the other side. From there it was all well-lit paved sidewalk or road surface and she turned on the afterburners.

From the time she had left the shelter of the tree she had put her hands up to her face, just leaving a small vertical opening to see through. She didn't care if the boys saw her bush or ass or tits, just as long as they couldn't see her face.

The boys had exited the backstop, no doubt their curiosity aroused by the words "entirely and completely bare fucking naked body". They were now standing by their car and trying to discover what was up. "You see?" said a loud and frustrated sounding voice. "I told we shoulda gone an' checked it out!"

There were other voices with other comments, some about her body, some the stoners grumbling about their missed opportunity for late night, all-naked-all-the-time entertainment. Rhiannon didn't hear the comments, just concentrated on the quickly dwindling distance remaining to the concealing interior of the car.

As she climbed in she heard one last comment: "Hey, I know a Rhiannon." Then she was in the backseat wedged between two girls as the car sped away.

They went to one of the girls' houses. Rhiannon was ushered in. She told me she had the same feeling of extreme exposure as the only naked person amid eight uniformed girls

They spent a few minutes gabbing, the girls who had been in the car filling in the ones who had remained back at the house about the utterly hilarious goings on at the ball field. When all of the stories had been told the girls settled down.

Rhiannon had three tasks to perform. First the girls blindfolded her and made extra sure she could not see past the edges of the covering. Then, one of the girls guiding from the back with her hands on Rhiannon's shoulders and another pulling her hands from the front, they led her to the bathroom. She felt the cool tile on the soles of her feet and got a strong whiff of methane.

Rhiannon had smiled inwardly. Even without ever having gone through an initiation she knew about this trick: take a blindfolded person into the bathroom, have them kneel down at the toilet and tell them to reach in and grab what they find in the bowl. Then the unwitting victim would be told to squeeze it and let it ooze out through their fingers. Oh, and be sure to set the stage beforehand by having some people go into the john and rip some farts, just for atmosphere and to get the initiate's mental image factory working overtime.

But Rhiannon didn't let on that she knew about the trick. She knelt at the porcelain throne, reached into the toilet bowl and grabbed the pealed banana she knew the girls had put there, making a disgusted face and ewuu-icky sounds just to not let on that she knew what was up. She noted that they had even broken off the ends for extra authenticity. On command she squeezed hard and let on that she relished the feel of the mashed up banana as it seeped through her fingers.

Rhiannon showed a big smile and asked, "C'mon you guy. You didn't really think I was going to fall for that one, did you?" She made a show of bringing her hand up to her face and sticking her tongue out to lick at the banana goo with great bravado. One of the girls managed to get out a panicked "Rhiannon!" before the tip of Rhiannon's tongue made contact with the shit that covered her palm.

Half an hour, half a tube of toothpaste, and half a bottle of Listerine later Rhiannon had recovered sufficiently that the girls could all gather in the living room.

While I had lain on the coffee table to display the shaving I had previously accomplished, Rhiannon had been obliged to sit at the edge to make a show of shaving herself: her second task. A towel was under her ass, a bowl of warm water nearby. The other girls watched intently as Rhiannon snipped away at her pubic hair, the loose hairs falling onto a towel on the floor. Then she spread extra wide and wet the disposable razor and began to run the blade smoothly through her stubble. She had blushed a bit as she had been obliged to open and move and stretch her outer lips to get at all the hairs she could find. When she was finished she got the same flashlight-aided inspection I had.

Her initiation ended with a paddling, similar to mine. The differences: Rhiannon had to bend over and not lose contact with a chair. Each of the eight girls rolled a pair of dice. But the result was the same: Rhiannon told me she had gotten the lumber laid on her butt sixty-two times. By the time she was done her ass was in agony: her description sounded like mine only worse, and she reported it had taken two weeks to heal. I couldn't imagine getting the paddling I had and then taking seventeen more. Impossible!

When she was done and fully initiated Rhiannon was driven back to her car, given her extra car keys, and she was able to dress and go home, now a full varsity member.

Sitting on my bed Rhiannon and I looked at each other. I don't know what she was thinking, but I felt very close to her, having shared almost the same experience for the same purpose.

"So, how many times are you willing to get your butt smacked, Girlfriend? I asked.

She got a thoughtful look. "How about ten smacks for every piece of clothing the winner has left at the end of the game?" she suggested.

"Fine by me," I returned. Unless one of us ran into some monumentally bad luck it seemed that the penalty would be no more than ten or twenty or thirty smacks. Compared to our initiations it seemed a walk in the park.

Call me evil if you have to, but smacking a bare bottom is something that I have come to discover appeals to me. At the beginning of the present school year I was a returning varsity member. Only the four of us who had been initiated the year before were retuning squad members, so we had eleven new members to initiate. I had gotten to know to one degree or another all the girls who had been selected. I'm a pretty easy person: I tend to like people, and a person has to be incredibly disagreeable for me to not like them. These girls were no different. They were all pleasant and I genuinely liked all of them.

I don't see myself as a whip cracking (or paddle swinging) femdom at all. But still, when it came time to initiate the new girls I really enjoyed the experience. As with my class, each girl was initiated individually. Just before graduation at the end of last year DeeDee had passed the paddle on to me when the graduating girls had selected me and another as the next year's co-captains. And when each girl's bare bottoms was in front of me I swung hard and enjoyed the job. It gave me a sexual charge that needed attention when I returned home. Is that terrible? Well, whether it is or not that was my experience and my reaction to having the paddle in my hands and applying it to another girl's bare bottom.

I looked at Rhiannon now and realized that as much as I liked her and wanted to resume our friendship, her bare butt would make an inviting target. I would find it satisfying and, well, just plain fun, not to mention a hot and sexy jolt, to lay some wood on her ass. I would relish the experience of her, nude and I hope disappointed at losing and nervous about her fate, obligated to bend over and present her ass for warming. I knew I would watch with interest and satisfaction as her butt grew redder with each swat.

"So deal," Rhiannon said, impatiently. "I hate to say this Rita but I'm looking forward to winning and getting you bent over and have your bare butt to smack."

"You took the words right out of my mouth, Rhi," I said. This was ideal for me. Knowing that she was so looking forward to warming my buns would make every swing I took with the paddle that much more satisfying.

I dealt the cards and the game began. It was not a long game. I lost a couple hands immediately, but then Rhiannon started losing. Soon she was sitting across the bed from me in her bra and panties, I only barefoot. I felt relief that this seemed likely to end the way I wanted it to. I gave her a superior and condescending look and dealt another hand, which she also lost.

When she took off her bra I did an appraisal of the boobs she revealed to me. When we had played years go in middle school her breasts had been just budding, and by the time we played our last game around the end of summer vacation before freshman year she had been a good and full A cup. Now I could see she had, like me, become no slouch in the boob department. I supposed she had a healthy and round C cup to boast.

Her face had gone a bit red, and she put her hands, fingers splayed, to her chest to cover her breasts.

"You haven't seen these in a while," she said.

"You look great!" I said with complete honesty. I also noted some admiration in my voice. My body was lusher than Rhiannon's, wider and rounder hips and larger and more generous breasts. But I liked Rhiannon's body better than my own: I thought my boobs too big even though they were proportional to everything else. And Rhiannon's body seemed better balanced, sleeker and more functional: a more compact package in which no one element dominated or drew attention away from the other parts or the whole.