Tit for Tat

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A daring new game gets out of control.
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Author's note: this story follows characters first introduced in "Crafting the Perfect Story," followed by their adventures in "Tickled Pink." This is designed to be read alone or for added enjoyment, in conjunctions with their first two stories.


Nearly home from their weekend ritual of neighborhood bakery for coffee and pastries, James allowed Andrea the lead, an action she mistook for manners. It actually afforded James one of his favorite views. He couldn't help but stare at her perfectly perky round little bottom swaying back and forth between those slender hips. Her stretchy yoga pants subtly accentuating its bubbliness made it all the more bitable.

Playfully, he paddled it a few times as they climbed the steps to their quintessential suburbia home. The material clung so snuggly her panty line was visible; if they'd gone somewhere fancy, he might have told her, but, as is, it gave her this quaint, clumsy, nerdy appeal James found very sexy while wondering what funky pair she had underneath.

"What's that?" asked his wife Andrea, referencing the box propped against their door, "Did you buy something recently?"

"Nope, not me," answered James before sarcastically adding, "You didn't order more clothes?"

"No," retorted Andrea exasperatedly shaking her head.

James picked the up box and carried it inside suggesting, "We might as well find out what's inside." The box was light and roughly the size of a puzzle box, so with a quick scissor swipe, its contents were revealed. As he tore the last bit of brown wrapping paper off, he was greeted by a flyer.

"Congratulations, you have been selected to partake in a product research trial. You have the exclusive opportunity to test our newest game before it is released to the public. You are part of a specifically chosen segment of the market, so your participation and feedback are crucial to our development department," exclaimed the brightly colored and apparently professionally designed pamphlet.

"We need real world couples to play and note what they liked or didn't so we can make this game the best it can be. Play the game, send us your thoughts in the provided self-addressed stamped envelope, and the game is yours to keep as a token of our appreciation!"

The box's drab olive color was only broken by its title, "Tit for Tat," written in white cursive script which failed to elicit much enthusiasm.

"What'd we get?" asked Andrea as she walked by.

"Oh, it's some game they want us to try and then tell them what we think; you wanna play?"

"Hum, sure, I'm game. Why don't you read the instructions while I take a shower, I feel a little sweaty and sticky, and when I get back you can explain it to me?"

"Yeah, okay, sounds good," responded James, his attention now focused on the box.

Supposedly, it was "A game of progressively rising stakes sure to break the ice." When he flipped it over to read more, all he found was a quick generic blurb containing all the usual board game clichés:

An exciting, safe alternative to boredom!

Guaranteed to make parties more interesting!

Fun for the whole family!

A different game each time you play!

Even wallflowers will be entangled in the fun.

And couples will find it particularly bonding.

...etc./et al.

As he read through the directions, James found that each player secretly picks something they want from the other players; for instance, player one could pick, "make dinner for me." Then in the order determined by the die, player one chooses a dare to send other players on.

A dare could include anything non-life threatening or illegal. So, for instance, it could be, "eat a spoon full of cinnamon." Each round players complete increases the number of times they get their reward. So, if player one completes five rounds and wins, he will receive five home cooked meals from the other players. Players are dropped from the game when they refuse or fail to complete a dare.

When Andrea returned from her shower, her red hair still damp and darkened, hanging freely to her shoulders in rivulets, sporting a midriff exposing halter top and a fresh pair of lounge pants, she stated, "Well, we've got nothing else going on this afternoon; I'm willing to play at least one round," then asked, "Where's the board?"

Once James explained the rules, she agreed it seemed pretty simple and straightforward. "Oh, I think they have a real winner on their hands," mocked Andrea considering the game's lack of production value or apparent originality. "It sounds like a needlessly glorified version of Truth or Dare," she skeptically noted.

Handing her a note pad, James directed her to write her reward while he wrote down his.

"Hum..." they considered in unison.

"I think I have mine," exclaimed James.

"What'd you pick," asked Andrea hoping to gage her idea off his.

"You'll have to wait and find out," explained James, "only after choices are set in stone, or ink, are they shared with other players," he recited from the text. Finally, pleased with something, Andrea wrote hers down.

"So what'd ya pick?" queried James.

"Full body massage, from head to toe and everything in-between, that means my feet and my head," clarified Andrea. "How about you?"

"Blow jobs," brusquely shared James.

BJs are James's favorite thing: sexual gratification without any effort, just sit back and enjoy the sucks, slurps, and slippery licks. When they were first dating, Andrea would give them on a fairly regular basis, in fact she even claimed to be a swallower. James always does his best to keep it nice and tidy down there and only aims for them if he's showered lately. It seems like the least he could do; he expects nothing less from her if she wants oral.

But, as the years progressed, James received fewer and fewer. Though, there was that one time recently, but it didn't count because it wasn't with freewill. Excluding that one time, she has never once fulfilled her promise of swallowing.

"What!?" exclaimed Andrea a little taken-a-back by his risqué choice, obviously not expecting that answer.

"What? The directions never said I couldn't pick that," defended James.

"But I thought you said this was a family friendly game."

"Well when your parents visit I'll pick something different...though your mom's still pretty—oww!" stopped James as Andrea playfully hit him.

"Yeah, well it doesn't matter anyway; I'm gonna win!" she concluded.

"I'd quit talking smack, you'd hate to wear out your mouth; you're going to need it at full strength later tonight," warned James with a smug smile.

Before rolling the die to determine turn order, James shared one additional rule, "No nullifying the consequences of any dares. So, taking our earlier example, if you eat that spoonful of cinnamon, you can't wash it out with water." James also delivered the only warning the directions offered, "Be cautious of your dares. When other players complete their tasks, they'll usually send you off on something of equal or greater value. The key to winning is going far, just not too far." After rolling the die, James got to start the first dare, "I dare you to come over here and bend over my lap—you've been a naughty girl, so you need to be punished," he mischievously said.

Slowly, she came over and kneeled at his side. Leaning over his lap placed her soft breasts on his thigh, as her arms dangling over its side, and her torso rested atop his crotch. She turned her head away bashfully. Sure he'd given her butt slaps as he traveled behind them up stairs, but he's never "punished" her through spanking before. He rubbed her cheeks for just a second, as if setting his aim the way a batter practice swings at air, before drawing his hand back and coming down hard on her ass—harder then she expected.

James was also a little surprised as the resounding "slap" echoed in the room. Andrea was convinced any protested would be in vain, she would have to endure, unless she wanted to call it quits already and lose control of her mouth and have it used for his pleasure. "I'm sure he'll lose his nerve before I lose mine," she assured herself.

As he continued, she felt like a little schoolgirl in some sleazy 70s euro erotica film. After about five solid slaps of varying force, James finally felt he'd found his groove, so he paused. Relieved to think this demeaning act over, Andrea took a sigh of relief.

"Well, now that I'm warmed up and have my aim down, it's time to drop those drawers," explained James. Andrea knew it had been too easy (though her ass felt differently). Down came her pants revealing a silly pair of Hello Kitty boy shorts. Obviously pleased with her immature choice of undies, James reached under the elastic and snapped it while simultaneously sneaking one hand forward and down the front of her panties to rub her nub, "Keep going."

With that, her modesty dropped to her ankles. The brightly colored bunch of cotton did little to conceal the wet patch already soaked into the crotch. Traveling up her pale thin thighs James' enjoyed the way Andrea'd managed to clamp her knees together presumably to conceal her wet waterworks.

Placing his hand on the small of her back, James nudged a return to her previous suppliant position just in time to continue his onslaught. He certainly wasn't cruel or violent, he loved her so he kept it reasonable, but still both sets of Andrea's cheeks reddened and her butt ones became sore under the swats. "He must be enjoying it," mused Andrea as she felt a hard-on rising through his pants against her tight tummy.

She was right; James was enjoying it. He was able to finally channel all of his marital frustrations and punish her for all the things she did that got on his nerves: leaving 20 pairs of shoes scattered around the house (Hell, owning 20 pairs of shoes), not putting things back where they belong—papers, wrappers, clothes—all randomly strewn throughout the house, pens without the caps or failed to be clicked away, etc, but mostly because she was at his guiltless mercy.

It may have hurt, but Andrea did notice herself getting a little wetter. "Why on earth?" she wondered frustrated, "Do I really love being dominated?"

This dampening didn't escape James' notice. "She's actually enjoying this! Maybe I married more of a freak than I thought!" James noted gleefully to himself. He paused while considering the possibility, providing her the opportunity she needed to quickly get up and pull up her panties and pants and announce it was her turn. "Fine," thought James, "give me your best shot."

"Get naked; I'll be right back," she directed before turning to leave the room. When she noticed him eyeing the open curtains, she added, "and don't you dare touch those blinds." His heart's pace increased as he thought of all the things she could be off to retrieve. But, after a few minutes, as he heard her feet descending the steps, he knew failing to be nude by the time she returned could be counted as failure to comply which would force him into backrubs and no blow jobs, so he quickly stripped.

She was pleased to see him standing in their living room sheepishly covering his cock with his hands. Out from behind her, Andrea pulled their camera, "Let's take a few shots for posterity sake, maybe we could even send them in with our review, they'd give the creators an idea of where some perverts might take their game." Little did James know Andrea was amassing quite a collection of such photos.

"Drop those hands to your sides, let me see what you're trying to hide, and if you try to cover or conceal anything during this photo shoot, it'll count as a forfeit of the game," directed Andrea.

She took shots of his deflated dick, she posed him all over the room, she even had him masturbate to full erection in front of her before having him turn around and pull his cheeks apart exposing his puckered hole to her. In fact, it was the uncharacteristic attention she was giving his ass causing him the most concern.

"Where would she develop these pics? Would she secretly show her girlfriends? What happens, Heaven forbid, if they broke up? Would she post them on the internet?" were some of the fears coursing through his brain. For a moment, he even pleasantly wondered if she'd use them as fodder for her "personal times." Almost completely pleased with the number and variety she'd taken, she ended her turn and gave control back to him. She wanted to take more, but it had hit her: she really needed to take a leak.

Their Sunday breakfast practice customarily involved lingering chit chatting at the coffeeshop while reading the local independent newspaper. This particular morning, Andrea had not only drank her usual venti caramel macchiato, but also went back for a second and third. And, about halfway through the impromptu photo shoot, those 60 full ounces of coffee suddenly rushed through her and filled her bladder to nearly bursting.

"Hey, I gotta 'go' while you think up your next move," said Andrea before giving James a kiss on the forehead, "I'll be right back, and don't even think of putting your clothes back on."

"Hold up," James directed, looking like he was trying to find the best way to word a difficult concept.

"Why?" whined Andrea, impatiently bouncing up and down a couple of times, frustrated by his delay.

"Because, you're not going anywhere; that's my move," explained James, satisfied with the succinct explanation.

"What?" asked Andrea, unsure of why she couldn't leave when all she really needed to do was go to the bathroom. "Quit messing around; I really have to go," pleaded Andrea.

"I guess you'll have to wet yourself then," informed James with a schoolboy grin.

"You gotta be kidding me. You want me to tinkle in my pants while you watch?" clarified Andrea.

"Hey, it's not my fault if you can't hold it like an adult," shrugged James, "and to answer your question, nope, not kidding, and yep, that is what I expect will happen, unless you want to give up. I'd recommend 'going' in the kitchen," suggested James.

James seated himself and rubbed his hands together waiting for the show while Andrea reluctantly stood displayed in the middle of the kitchen linoleum, unsure of why James was so gleeful of her predicament.

Fearing her judgment condemning or disapproving his kinky fetishes, he'd always kept them to himself. However, now was his chance; any deviation from the norm could be explained away as the point of the game was to get her to give up or refuse.

James shared his peeing fetish with her one drunken night back in college. She "let" him watch her "go" that night; however, she's never offered a show since and he's been too embarrassed to ask.

He couldn't explain why girls peeing excited him so much; maybe it had something to do with their discomfort and embarrassment from having the private way most people handled this action bungled. It is like a rare glimpse of something you're not supposed to see—kind of like being a voyeur in the girl's locker room.

Andrea slowly realized he wasn't just enjoying the desperation, he was also looking forward to the inevitable and unavoidable accident. Winning this challenge was going to be both a mental and physical battle.

"Gosh, I am so thirsty, maybe I'll pour myself a glass of water," James informed her before barely turning on the faucet leaving it at just a trickling torture, pressuring her with sound of the stream hitting their stainless steel sink as he retrieved a glass. After filling his glass and taking a few audibly satisfying gulps, he noticed his error. "Woops, forgot it," teased James as he looked at the still tinkling sink; he "accidentally" turned it up to full before turning it off.

Andrea was doing anything and everything she could to stem the tide. She began crossing and uncrossing her legs, shifting weight from one leg to the next, doing squats, and even embarrassingly grabbing her crotch all accompanied by sounds of frustration and desperation.

"Ahh, if you don't let me go soon, I'm gonna piss myself," Andrea explained.

"Uh-oh, that would be embarrassing," said James, his cock rising in unison with the corners of his lips.

It was then Andrea remembered James didn't just want to see her suffer and squirm; he wanted to see her lose control...of her bladder. "Maybe I can wait him out," Andrea hoped to herself, "He is bound to get tired of watching me do the pee prance." However, James could watch her desperation dance all day.

Feeling her bladder give way with a few squirts, frantic panic filled her. Resigned now, Andrea did her best to force her body to let loose even though her pants and panties were still up, something 20+ years of training fought against. However, it was harder than she thought to override her body's inhibition. Faced with the choice of wetting herself or peeing in full public view, Andrea wanted to pick the one that'd give James the least satisfaction, but deep down she knew he'd enjoy either outcome, "Hell, he'll probably out cum himself." She finally decided to just pee in front of him rather than wet herself like a little girl. Frantically, she began undoing the drawstring keeping her yoga pants above her narrow hips before it was too late.

The desperation of her situation made it very hard to focus on the tightly tied cotton. She felt distraught, like those girls from the female desperation site she found in James' browser history. She only managed to get them halfway down her thighs when her bladder finally gave way. A mixture of relief and mortifying humiliation washed over her face as urine splashed over her Kitten clad cotton and into her Lycra loungers.

As the stream began to flow there became no way to dam its spread as it soaked through and ran down her legs, darkening her pants before pooling around her feet. Mortifying would only begin to describe it. The shock and shame sent her to her hands and knees giving James the perfect view of the dwindling flow dripping out of her urethra...trickling till it stopped.

Andrea was sure James should be disgusted with her; however, the rock hard cock between his thighs told a different story. The initially pleasant warmth quickly dissipated leaving her standing awkwardly in the kitchen. However, as the rules stated, she couldn't do anything about it.

"You can keep your clothes around your ankles and walk around awkwardly for the rest of the game, or I'll let you pull them up," smiled James with the offer he probably felt was generous. "Wet clothing was better than none," thought Andrea as she shuddered from the damp material touching and resting against her privates.

It was her turn now, so Andrea informed James, "You better lie on your back on the couch and close your eyes for this one." Knowing his butthole was out of reach, James took a sigh of relief. Doing as he was told, he felt Andrea climb on the couch, possibly straddling him. "Ah, some classic girl on top sex," thought James; however she seemed a little far up the couch to successfully mount his still engorged manhood.

"Okay, you can open your eyes now!" exclaimed Andrea. As James opened his eyes, he wasn't met with the sight of her face as he expected or even the back of her head (if she desired reverse cowgirl), but rather he got an eyeful of butt. A little taken back, but undeterred and now pretty sure of where this was going, James informed Andrea that she'd have to scoot up a little so his tongue could reach her sex. Andrea reassured him, "No, I think you're tongue is right in range of its target." A little slow on the uptake, James paused until what she meant sunk in.

"Her butt. She wants me to lick her butt. Is she serious?" James worried to himself. When she didn't waiver, he realized that is exactly what she was expecting. Now this was pretty extreme in James' mind. But, James was mistaken to think they'd never gone this kinky before. Andrea, however, remembered vividly the since of power and dominance she felt when she'd hypnotized him and made him lick up his cum as he tossed her salad. Then again, a lot of today's activities had been multiple levels more kinky than anything they'd ever fathomed doing before.