Whole New Slave Game Ch. 10

The Whole New Game was held yesterday. I expect to fly back to New York tomorrow, Monday. But there is time now to write up about what happened Friday and yesterday with Phil Clark and the Whole New Game.

In short, the Whole New Slave Game was even more ridiculous than I expected but there wasn't any more violence or threats of violence. I think I prefer farces to spy thrillers in which I am not sure if I am the hero or one of the innocent women who always seems to get blown up when James Bond or whoever needs to move on to the next babe.

THE RECEPTION AND PHIL CLARK

Friday, July 22, during the day, I wrote about the strange days I had before in Bolry and did some legal work. I even got some work done for non-Bolrian clients that had been put aside or left to others for over a week.

The Whole New Slave Game reception was that night. Except for Fortmanov, Svetlana, Vadimovich, and the waiters and caterers, it was pretty much an All-American affair. They did not bother to get any of the 95 contestants involved who had not been pre-selected to be among the possible New Game losers, and I knew even Sarah Highland was a ringer although the four women who did have a risk of becoming BDSM sex slaves did not know that.

Two of the glibbest persons in the U.S.A. were the unofficial co-hosts of the event. Phil Clark, Grandson of the Founder of Clark Pharmaceuticals, was the loudest. I'd heard Clark was mainly raised in Oklahoma by his mother who had inherited a lot of oil money from her father before marrying into the Clark family. Slow Gaithlumb, a radio talk show host known for his sexism, populism and drug use, mainly made garrulous remarks and stared unabashedly at all the naked female flesh around him.

The three men who had put up dough to get rid of their embarrassing trophy wives, Hadly Baxendale, Hartwick Pines and Tom Palsgraf, stood about awkwardly and were careful to avoid cameras. Bolontini and Kohl were also there.

Helen Clark, Peggy Sue Baxendale, Sarah Highland, Juliette Pines and Brigit Palsgraf were all dressed to show off their very impressive bodies and made up perfectly. It seemed half of the men at the event were already looking at Helen Clark like they could see her naked compliant body spread out for their pleasure.

Walker and a few of his friends from Texas were there as well as a bunch of Phil's good old boy chums from Oklahoma and a few other millionaires, some with their own trophy wives who must have been wondering whether participating in a sex slave event was in store in their future.

Crystal, Dawn, Madison, Ashley and I were there just to provide scenery. We'd been told to "wear our outfits" so I was wearing a business suit, Dawn and Crystal were in tight running suits, Ashley looked like Doris Day and Madison was in a cheerleader uniform. Svetlana again was strangely dressed as though the Tsarina really wanted to be dominated and penetrated herself starting with a black choker that, but for the large diamonds, looked like something to wear if one wanted to be walked on a leash. The corset and panty set up she wore was fairly transparent on top so that her pink points were only slightly concealed. Her black panties covered the minimum and the black garter belt holding up fishnet stockings made her look like she was definitely up for grabs.

Crystal had the nerve to ask, "Svetlana, is that what you consider your normal outfit?"

"Not normal," Svetlana admitted, "but like outfits I have worn in the past. I have many outfits and poses."

But it was Helen, Juliette, Brigit, Sarah and Peggy Sue that were the focus of the pictures and conversation, particularly Helen who was the overwhelming favorite to lose. Helen smiled like a twenty year- old centerfold getting her big break. That was weird for a woman who had run a significant company for over a decade but who was now likely to spend the next decade or more as a submissive sex slave.

About a third of the chatter around the room it seemed was about how much fun it would be to see Helen Clark get the whippings and rough sex she deserves while another third speculated on what could have possibly caused her to agree to participate in this event. Phil Clark joked, "Well, yeah, she's very likely to become a sex slave and get thumped an average of three or four times a day for the next ten years or so, but y'all know that being the chaste guy that I am that I just couldn't begin to satisfy her." The joke was that Phil Clark was known to chase anything with a skirt and is about as chaste as Ron Jeremy.

Not normally a pillar of propriety or one to be offended by the behavior of randy males, Walker said quietly to Crystal and me, "The real bad joke here is Phil Clark. That frat boy asshole would have quickly run his family's business into the ground but for Helen. He belongs in jail for what he's done that has almost killed the business despite Helen's work, but he has the gall to make fun of his wife who is trying, among other things, to save his ass while sacrificing her own. Phil's problem with Helen is that she wanted a little quality, not just quantity, but he wouldn't know quality if it kicked him in the balls."

Those of us in the room who knew that Sarah Highland was already a sex slave said nothing about her and did not risk showing too much familiarity by talking to her. I focused on the food spread. It was very tasty.

I really don't think the BLC is letting me eat enough. I feel hungry all the time. I think I have lost some weight over the last few weeks, weight I did not need to lose. Do they want me to lose fat in my boobs or hips? I don't think so. I think maybe someone is being punitive just because I grabbed one little doner kebab for lunch without their permission. The quality of what they do give me seems down also.

Fortunately, Vadimovich and Svetlana were too busy working the room to catch me eating some delicious pheasant, shrimp, oysters, a puff pastry and a whole deviled egg and sneaking a second glass of champagne. I think Svetlana was working on Walker, Fortmanov, and Bolontini for information or as company for the night. I think Svetlana went off with Bolontini in the end and I saw Walker leave the room with Helen Clark.

By 20:30(8:30) the reception was breaking up. It was time, as ordered by the BLC dispatcher, for me to take Phil Clark to my room and have sex. Walker's comment about quantity over quality was immediately confirmed. As soon as we got into my room, Clark had me undress and started feeling me up everywhere. Once I was fully nude, he plopped me on the bed and undressed himself. As he removed his pants, he explained, "I have not had any ass for three whole days. That's terrible but we are going to make use of this terrible drought to try to set a new record. I haven't come more than 12 times in a day since I was in college. I'm 15 years out of business school now. I think it's time with a piece as hot as you to try to set a new record. We got until about an hour before the New Game begins tomorrow night about this time to do it. That's almost exactly 24 hours. Let's get crackin' on making 13."

I had no choice but to accept the challenge. I figured we could have straight sex a few times at first. That way I might have some fun and we could nap a few hours. Tomorrow, Clark's forty something old cock would be getting tired and would need more direct stimulation. I could use blow jobs and hand jobs to try to get to 13. Clark seemed like a guy who would be obsessed with oral sex.

It did not play out as I planned. Straight sex, without a condom, "as God intended," was what he liked most. Fortunately, he was ok with me being on top as he is a bit overweight. He did not have any trouble getting it up for the first seven times in about 5 hours just looking at me and playing with my breasts and listening to himself talk. I think listening to himself talk was the most powerful aphrodisiac. I enjoyed the sex the last few times when he finally slowed down a bit and at least stopped talking while he fucked.

We finally did sleep at 1:00 or 2:00 am. Maybe four hours later, he was working a morning erection into me while I was doing my best to make up for the lack of foreplay by mentally thinking of times when I'd had great sex. This worked so well that I came before he did.

We took a shower. I listened to him talk another hour although it was very hard not to fall back asleep. He mainly talked about how he was such a hot shot politician in Oklahoma and how he'd charmed the pants off various lobbyists and legislative staff. "Female lobbyists are expected to go to bed with you as part of their jobs. Secretaries and wives of other State Reps take a bit more charm, but once the word gets around as to what you want and what you got, doors and thighs begin to open for you."

Soon, low and behold, he'd shot whatever wad he had left for the ninth time and we had a whole 11 hours to get in the last four of the 13.

We took a little nap before I got to listen to him complain about Helen for an hour. "I met her in business school. She did not have any money to speak of. She was really hot and really smart. All the guys in the class wanted to fuck her but did not want to have to compete with her or make any commitment to a woman who could not bring any dough of her own to the pot even if she was built like a brick shithouse. I was the only one willing to do that. The fact her father wasn't worth much more than a mill didn't bother me if she'd run my father's business for me. I had no interest in learning about pharmacy, although I did like shagging New York woman.

"Helen learned all about pharmacy, or at least the business end. She said it was 'an act of love.' So, I married her to keep up the family business. Sex with the poor girl was great too and she sure wanted it as much as me.

"We got married with our official address in Tulsa and her mainly living in New York running the company. I think she was really in love with me for five or ten years. I sort of felt guilty, maybe a little bit at least, but how can a woman be so smart and so stupid? I did sleep with her most of the time when I was in New York, although I could not get into some of the kinky stuff she was suggesting. Just fuck is what I say.

"Clark Pharmaceuticals was making good money and I loved her for that. Then she started talking about how she wanted to move to Tulsa and have children and how much she loved me. But how could I have any fun in Oklahoma if she moved down there and who the hell would run the pharmaceutical company? I told her truthfully that I did not want children. I did not tell her that I was already paying to support a few children."

Clark chuckled. I resisted the urge to strangle him.

"She said definitely about a year ago that she wanted us to be a real couple and have children or I could take care of my own life and business. She said she was looking into selling the pharmaceutical company and asked if I really cared. Next, we learned that some lawyer at the firm, that represented the company, had decided there was no way we could sell the company until we accounted for the money the lawyer had found missing from the pension fund. I'd maybe borrowed a little. The lawyer said we would go to jail for securities fraud or for stealing from the pension fund. Fucking lawyers are such rays of sunshine aren't they?"

Of course, the reader must know who discovered the pension fund problem was. I kept my mouth shut.

"After she learned there was a bit of money missing from the pension fund, Helen started screaming about how she just wanted to retire or, if she could not do that cleanly, die. I knew she was on the rag at the time, but still she should control her emotions. I know it's hard for you babes.

"Things sat like that for a while until Helen said she'd heard of a way to make up for the missing money and fix a few other problems with investments I'd made in Oklahoma and futures trading. She suggested I call Ron Club about this game in Bolry and now here we are. I can walk away from the pharmaceutical business with money in my pocket and what's left of the money mom left me in Oklahoma. Helen's a slut. She'll cope with what happens and make a great sex slave."

I have never been so absolutely full of loathing for anyone in my life but I had to be a good sex slave with this creep for another ten hours. I took his testicles into my mouth thinking I would teach myself discipline by resisting the urge to bite. He said "the boys" were very happy, and soon he'd come ten times since we started counting.

We had brunch and I went right back to work on his despicable genitals. If you carefully work the area between the base of a man's balls while sucking cock, it will often work wonders. I somehow was wet from hatred, sat down on his prick and soon we had 11 down and seven hours to work. I think my very hatred was working for me as I had about the sixth orgasm I had with Clark. Hatred as well as fear is a stimulant for me. Don't ask me why.

I suggested we go swimming. I did a bunch of laps. Despite getting some sleep, I was tired, but I found that if I just worked and worked on something like swimming, I would not think about how horrible human life is. I gave Clark a blow job at the end of our swim. Not much fluid left but it counted.

We got in a proper two-hour nap before I decided to get the job done. It took a while but he got hard enough for me to seize his prick with my vagina. Now he was in for a surprise. He was tired but I was on top and my muscles are just super where they count. I worked and squeezed him until he came the thirteenth time. I came soon thereafter but I did not get off or let go. He was fading but I kept going and going until I came again and he hit fourteen. Let him try to beat that record with some poor Okie lobbyist.

He lay like a dead man when I got off but we napped in my wet bed for a couple hours before I woke him up and suggested he'd better wash up, go to his room to get dressed properly and show off his wife for the voters.

He thanked me for my efforts, said I was stupendous and that it was good that I never wasted my time in politics or business when my skills in bed were so super. "It's nice to know a woman who knows what she does best."

After Clark left the room, I was initially just filled with contempt for him, that contempt spread to every man like him, then to every woman who put up with men like him, then worst of all, to myself. I concluded that I should not blame the victims except maybe myself. Although Phil and Helen were both doing what society told them to do, they were not without free will, choices and responsibility. Helen Clark had made some bad choices but was much more of a victim than Phil and it was that coward that should be blamed. I forgave myself at the same time (although as I write now I again feel unforgiveable).

But what difference does it make? It was time to go and watch the New Game.

THE WHOLE NEW SLAVE GAME

I took about my fourth shower in 24 hours. I thought I would have taken four more showers if it would have cleaned the moral stain of Phil Clark off me. I did not even understand why I was feeling so judgmental. I resolved to put that judgmental stuff behind me and did. Yes, over the last few weeks, I'd started out arguing with people and that had not helped my life. I stopped that. I continued getting mad at people while biting my tongue. That was not helping either. I resolved to try to just push through my time in Bolry, and perhaps on earth as a whole, enjoying sensations, and impassively flowing through human society like the wind and the rain.

"Laurel," I told myself, "you think too much," and proceeded to think about why I think too much and to try to wash all thoughts out of my head. It was hopeless, I thought, except when my body was fully engaged and my mind had to just shut up. I knew what had to be happening for full engagement of body but that would not be for a while.

It was not clear why Svetlana thought it was important for me to be at this Whole New Game. I was seated between Fortmanov and Vadimovitch, not the location I would have chosen. At least I did not have to do anything but watch the farce. As instructed, I was dressed only in a bath robe. "You'll be naked after the new slave is chosen to provide services to those who want to be part of the orgy but don't want a piece of the new slave." Was part of the instructions for the event. Madison, Ashley, Dawn and I sat together while Crystal was now with Fortmanov.

There was much blab by Phil Clark and Slow Gaithlumb about how beautiful the contestants were. This was pretty silly when 24 women came out, slowly, completely covered in white Burkas. It was even sillier when the next twenty-six came out doing a chain dance in black burkas. The audience was to vote on twenty-four. This process was simplified by Phil Clark and Slow Gaithlumb holding up signs saying "VOTE FOR THE WHITE ONES."

The audience did as instructed, the ones in the white burkas were told to take off their coverings for the bikini round. Sarah Highland pretended to throw a fit screaming that the vote had been completely rigged and unfair. Gaithlumb said it was only natural that people would prefer the white ones and asked her where it was written that the vote had to be fair. Sarah said that things should always be fair. Gaithlumb said Sarah was just another slut looking for something for nothing. After much screaming intended to be comical that much of the audience did seem to find comical, the twenty-four women assembled for the questioning part of the contest.

The rule was that the women would be asked to give answers to three questions about things that everyone should know. Women who missed two out of three questions would go into the topless round. The first question asked the name of the Great Leader of Bolry before Premier Pyotr Tolski. Of course, most of the women got the correct answer, Orsinov, correct but not our five Americans. Sarah went crazy arguing that the question was unfair. Phil Clark said that it was extremely Ugly American of her to come to a country and expect to glide by without knowing the facts known to everyone in the country. "How would you feel about a tourist who came to Washington who was so uninformed about American history he didn't know that Andrew Jackson was dead before the Civil War?"

"I'd tell them to buy a guidebook," Sarah said. Of course, someone whipped out a guidebook with glossy pictures of the mountains and the radio tower and a brief history of Bolry.

The next two questions came straight out of high school biology. Does anyone remember that photosynthesis takes place in organelles called chloroplasts? Of course not. Yes, I know it is in every high school text but I would not have known if they had asked me. Neither did the 12 women who had not been told the answer in advance. With the next question, the Game organizers got the number of women down to the exact twelve whose breasts they wanted to display. It was a question on eukaryotic cell division and mitosis that high school students can answer for about the amount of time it takes to pass a quiz before they forget those facts forever. I wondered to myself why they bother to teach high school students that stuff unless it is to prepare for a sex slave game in Bolry.

Soon twelve beautiful women were on the little pedestals of the type on which I stood a number of times seven years ago. Their arms were anywhere they wanted except covering their breasts. I recognized seven of the women as BLC employees who had participated in the employee lottery a few weeks before. Eleven of them looked very embarrassed although they had all known this was coming. Sarah Highland was jiggling her boobs like a burlesques dancer and mugging for the audience. All she needed was the tassels. Although I have nothing against Sarah, right then I would have liked to whack her hard with one of those nasty little black floggers.