One Lucky Roll
“Smile,” he mouthed. And she did, utterly ashamed at the way her body acted on his command. That, and at another detail that luckily her mouth was too busy to name right now.
“Oh c’mon! Are you fuckin’ kidding me?! Guys. Guys! We got some problem.” Fabian was always quick to get excited, but even so the rest of the group decided to at least hear him out. “What’s wrong, Fab? Did you forget to bring your sun glasses or something?” “Donna, I’m not talking about something like that. I mean a real problem!” Donna shrugged, her green eyes glinting with barely concealed amusement: “That’s why I was asking.” “Oh, really funny, girl. Really funny.” Madeleine, the French exchange student and newest member to their group, interrupted Donna before the young woman could take it any further: “Forget the sun glasses.” She nodded to the phone in her hand. “We’re not gonna see any sun at all today. There’s a severe storm warning for the area, we better—” “Guys, we have to cancel our plans for today, it’s raining. They said there’s a storm approaching fast.” “—stay indoors unlike our dear Charles over there. Thanks for letting a woman finish her sentence.”
It always astonished Mary anew how the six of them had come to form this little club, as they jokingly called it. Arguably, what they were a club of exactly tended to change with the week or the number of beers had last night, depending. Though going by the pretty standard scene in front of her she had a couple of terms in mind that all seemed pretty fitting—if, naturally, they would not include her. “Okay, everyone in order. What? Why? And how do we proceed now?” Fabian just rolled his eyes. The former star athlete was anything but a friend of calm explanations. Letting himself drop into the closest chair unceremoniously he seemed convinced that the day was as good as lost anyway. “Who cares?” “Well, excuse me. But I don’t just want to sit around and do nothing just because you’re too lazy to make a plan!” Donna snapping at him wasn’t unexpected but not exactly helpful either. Then again, all who knew her soon learned that her Italian temper could make her as open and approachable as it could send her into a passionate rant when something displeased her. And to be honest, unpleasant was exactly how Mary would describe Fabian’s demeanor.
Madeleine on the other hand was as so often quick to mediate between them. “Look, we are all irritable because of this unforeseen change. But I suppose that is what we get for postponing our picnic like that.” “Well, apparently not all of us seem that miffed about it,” said Charles in between drying his wet locks with a towel. At which involuntarily five heads turned to look across the room to Andrew, who kept sipping his tea and had only observed the chaos these last couple minutes: “Err, I get that you guys are unhappy with this and all. But…” “Spit it out, nerd.” “Sorry, I just… Look, I’m sure there’s something in here we can do to pass the time?”
“Arms up, hands behind your head.” She winced, the pathetically meek sound all she could do to protest while her body seamlessly assumed the position it was ordered to. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Every fiber of her being, every single nerve was laser-focused on his words, on the next instruction. She told herself that it was only so she could better spot her chance to resist. That she only anticipated his next words because listening closely made negating the command easier somehow. All the while her face showed a beaming expression of pure joy. If only he hadn’t told her to smile. There was no way she would be smiling while ordered to humiliate herself before him without his command making her do it. …Was there?
“Looketh and rejoice,” Mary finally exclaimed after thirty horribly stretching minutes of fruitless arguments, “I found a game.” “Thank god for video games!” “Sorry to disappoint, Fabian,” Donna pointed out, “but unless those come in worn-out flat cardboard boxes depicting some dice I seriously doubt that is a video game.” “Damn it, Donna, you really can make anything boring, huh?” “Why are you blaming me for your lack of functioning eye balls, you monkey?” “Hey!” Everyone froze for a second, shocked by the fact that Madeleine could shout like that. “Guys, a simple rule. You either behave and get to stay inside. Or you don’t and can go cool your head outside. You get the choice, hot drinks and a game? Or ice cold rain until your mood improves? Are we clear?” Rarely had Mary see a muscle-packed bear of a man like Fabian show that particular variety of perplexed expression to a woman half his size like dainty Madeleine in her light blue summer dress. After a whirlwind of emotions flickered over his face finally he just shut his mouth and flopped back in his seat. Donna meanwhile looked like she was torn between laughing about his reaction and blushing at the realization that the other woman directed her words at both of them. “Clear, yeah…,”she managed to stammer. In her defense Mary had to admit that despite her rebellious punk-rock attire Donna looked far more sorry than Fabian, eyes glued to the tips of her polished leather boots. “Good.” The French exchange student seemed willing to let it go and the rest was all too happy for the attention to shift to the game in Mary’s hands. “Looks pretty old. Almost handmade rather than bought, to be honest,” mumbled Charles, whose passion for board games shimmered through, “What’s inside?” “I didn’t check yet,” Mary grinned, “This way it’ll be an equal surprise for all of us.”
Her eyes desperately tried to ignore Charles as the young man mumbled the same phrase over and over: “Broken toys must play. Broken toys must obey.” All that managed to interrupt the monotone repetition was his ever more high-pitched whimpers when his own body denied him yet another orgasm. The moments between those got shorter and shorter each time, the pleasure and need dissolving what was left of his vocabulary—and, as she realized with a shudder, likely his very mind—in nothing but arousal. It hadn’t taken him long to feel the effects, but it seemed to take forever to observe his descent into complete, utterly defeated surrender. She remembered the exact moment his eyes dulled, recalled every inch of his hand’s descent to his crotch. She still thought to hear everyone’s shocked—or was it excited?—gasps as he, seemingly oblivious to their presence in the room, began to stroke himself. As little as two rounds later it became impossible for him to keep conversation going, this constantly looping mantra being the only thing that came over his lips: “Broken toys must play. Broken toys must obey.” She prayed that she only heard him say it. But a devious, seductive part of her whispered that those words too were something she had burned into her memory. While all she could do was smile and listen.
“Doesn’t look too complicated,” he pointed out after they peeked inside the box and produced a folded board, a pair of dice and a handful of game pieces. “True,” Andrew agreed after a look at how the individual fields were arranged into a spiral, “But there’s gotta be a catch. Look, some of these have stuff written on them.” Madeleine gave the board a quick glance too, interested in what he noticed there: “Mostly… wait, is this maths? There’s lots of addition or substraction here.” The notion of it being a learning game seemed rather unappealing to Fabian. “Not some dry quiz or something, I can’t stand those!” Catching the dangerously sharp glance from Madeleine he added: “You guys can play that by yourself and I just watch?” Mary fished a neatly folded slip of paper from the inside of the box and skimmed through the text written there. “No worries, Fabian. Looks like landing on those fields with your game piece requires you to draw a card. Those specify various things, but looks like most of it is either a task or a question.” Donna giggled: “Ohh, I like it. Kinda like Truth or Dare in a way, isn’t it?” Andrew choked on his tea a bit:“Like… what?” “Seriously? You do know what Truth or Dare is, don’t you?” Madeleine looked at him with pity like he just admitted to never having felt joy in his life. “Don’t be silly, of course I know!” “Good. For a second I thought… ” “I just never played it, is all.”
Silence followed that confession. Before even Fabian couldn’t hold back a smirk. “Now we simply have to try this one. Can’t have our nerd miss out on the great things in life. C’mon, ladies, let’s get this thing set up. Stop, no one touch that blue piece, I want that one!” He couldn’t have made his malicious intent any clearer if he’d tried, but at least he stopped complaining as much.“Hey now,” Madeleine chided even as she handed him the piece in question, “Could you ask beforehand next time? I happen to like that color as well. But fine. Okay, now… Where’s the starting point? Oh! Found it. Mary, you got the instructions there, how do we get started? And where are those cards you mentioned?” “They were still in the box,” Charles placed a pile of thin paper sheets the size of business cards next to the board. “Great. So, Mary?” “Looks like that’s all there is to it, now we just take turns rolling the dice and heading for the goal while landing on as few of those special fields as possible.” Donna pretended to pout: “Why avoid them, you party-pooper? Those are where all the fun is at. I hope there’s some really naughty one’s in the mix too.” It could have been coincidence that she leaned against Madeleine to steal a glance at the pile saying these words. The French woman on the other hand seemed to have different hopes for the game: “Ugh, please. We’re not in puberty anymore. Let’s not waste any more time with such nonsense. Mary, since he seems the least familiar with it, would you want to let Andrew read the instructions the first time around? I think it may help him warm up to it.” Nobody complained, rather Fabian even approved of “letting the nerd handle the dry theory”.
“Fantastic,” Madeleine nodded, “Then I’ll go first and it’s clockwise from there on, fine?” Even as she spoke, the dice fell and she moved her piece.
It was strangely compelling to watch how Madeleine’s entire body shivered in ecstasy. Each individual droplet of sweat seemed to break the light in yet a new way, adding layer upon layer of surreal attraction to it. Even from where she sat she could see every curve on the young exchange students body, could see her lids flutter under the onslaught of wave after tantalizing wave of bliss. Her clothes laid forgotten in a corner, dark golden hair fanned out on the mattress behind her like a strange corona. An eternity ago her soft, pink lips had formed a mantra of her own, repeating in an almost mind-numbing rhythm: “The sight of my tits makes you mindless. Being mindless makes you taste my wet pussy. The taste of my pussy makes you a slave. Being enslaved makes you horny. Being horny makes you stare at my tits.” But any coherence had long since been washed away, all the pretty French girl could manage to voice now was: “Tits… mindless… wet pussy… slave.” Over. And over. In a dazed monotone that made it questionable if she was still saying these words to someone else. Or carving them deeper and deeper into her own brain. Even sitting far away from where the girl leaned against the bed with her legs spread wide, her eyes got transfixed on the motion of her hands caressing full, heavy breasts. Her nose seemed to drown in the musky scent of a slick vagina in need of licking. Her ears struggled every now and again, thinking to hear her own voice chime in with the constant pleas of submission, the moans and panting—before her brain remembered that was impossible because she still obeyed the command to smile at him. And at the rare moments when she could tear her eyes away from the display of enticing bodies she could see it in his gaze. See that he was aware of her struggle. See that he was merely waiting until her mind could no longer tell if she was looking so happy because he forced her to. Or because she was only a few more moments away from being broken herself. But that would never happen. Not as long as she still had any say in the matter.
If only she could say anything at all…
“I don’t know about you guys,” Madeleine frowned, “but somehow I can’t help but think there’s something weird about this game.” “Oh, don’t be that way.” Donna grinned. Of course she did. She had only lost her boots so far, neither her tank top nor her jeans had moved yet. Not to mention she visibly took delight in where things were headed. Charles on the other hand had barely anything left and Fabian got awfully quiet after a card made him admit he was a virgin. “I think she’s right,” Andrew tried to offer his perspective, “maybe we should call it off while we still can? How about it?” Mary draped her jacket over her bare legs and waved his concerns aside. “It’s just an old game, isn’t it? Okay, admittedly an embarrassing one. But you guys were the one’s getting all excited when you heard it would be this sort of thing. Are you gonna chicken out?” Both guys flared up at that despite their embarrassment, Fabian exclaiming: “Who are you calling a chicken, girl?” Charles added: “Just you wait, Mary. Give it two turns and you’ll be telling us all about your secret fetishes.” “Charles!” Madeleine didn’t seem to fancy his tone at all—or maybe it was just the dread of having to spill such details herself. Mary on the other hand just laughed: “Challenge accepted. But take care not to draw any more cards until then. Two turns are a long time.” “Speaking of which,” with a nervous push Andrew corrected his glasses—most likely just to occupy his hands—while nodding to the board, “somehow there’s a lot more of those fields than at the beginning. I think we should really talk about who is still comfortable with continuing.” “Don’t be such a worrywart, Andrew! Seriously, it’s only a sort of sleazy party game. Granted, we’re missing the snacks and alcohol to go with it. But that’s all. And if the fun doesn’t come with the drinks, we just have to liven it up ourselves. It’s not that bad, really. And we’re all friends here anyway.” As if to emphasize her confidence Donna picked up the dice and made her turn. “See? It ain’t so bad after… Ooops, that looks like three cards for me, please.” “And no cheating like the last times, girl,” Fabian growled, “I still don’t get how only you manage to pull all the tame stuff. What was with ‘Hop on one leg while saying a tongue-twister’?” “Awww, is someone a bit touchy? Maybe you’d rather have been the first to experience it?” Her crudely concealed offense at his last turn seemed to hit a nerve, but luckily Madeleine saved the day once again: “Andrew, if you would do the honors then? This way we can say for sure there’s no cheating involved.” Given how among all of them, Andrew had the worst luck with his pulls so far that was easy to agree on. At least he was the only one who had to strip entirely, before getting the word ‘SMART’ written on his chest with lipstick. He seemed like there was a ton of things he’d like to complain about, but seeing how close the situation was to turning into an argument he gave in. “Sure. Let’s see… First is a question: What is your favorite flavor in the world?” “Are you bastards really just messing with me?!” Fabian was not happy—but all the more perplexed when Donna swiftly and with a dreamy smile on her face replied: “A dripping cunt.” Breathless seconds passed while she just sat there. Until it dawned on everyone that she was blushing ever so faintly. “Err… next one, next one.” Andrew looked at the second card and went a bit red himself, but read it aloud: “It’s a task on this. Next time you draw a question, repeat the last given answer.” “Don’t worry,” Madeleine with flushed cheeks hurried to cheer her on, “What’s the odds of drawing a question where that answer would even make sense? Right?” “She’s got one card left to go, so don’t jinx it,” warned Mary just as Andrew cleared his throat to read with a trace of clumsy guilt in his voice: “ Question: What will you do next?” Donna fought hard not to squirm while saying: “…A dripping cunt.”
She wanted to imagine that if not for the twisted turns of the game, there would have been no way for Donna to look so perfectly content on her knees, lost in reverie as her tongue slid over the wet folds of Madeleine’s vagina again and again, lapping up the girl’s juices with blank devotion. Wanted to believe that the Italian woman’s glassy eyes were only glued to Madeleine’s breasts because of how squishy they looked each time the French girl’s fingers kneaded and rubbed them once more. Rather than due to the exchange student’s mantra echoing in an otherwise empty head, forcing it to sink into slavery more and more. Really, she wanted to believe that all there was to it was two women making out. But while she observed how all but Donna’s short black hair disappeared between Madeleine’s creamy tights, a sharp contrast to her own olive skin, it was inevitable to consider that the words that filled the entire room had completely seeped into Donna’s brain. Until all the woman could think about was being an obedient broken toy, a slave to tits and wet pussy. It was difficult to force back a greedy moan while she took all this in. And the worst part was that she had long since lost focus of what about all this would be what made her utter such noise. Maybe… Maybe he could tell her? She knew he was watching her, tracing every line on her revealed form with unlimited patience. The kind that could only come from knowing she was fighting a losing battle. From knowing that every minute she spend kneeling in front of him, smiling and wordlessly turning her body into yet another display of perverted beauty, drove her closer to giving up on the game. There was a moment of absurd elation as she considered asking him to tell her why this was turning her on like crazy. And a moment of trembling uncertainty as she realized she knew exactly what he would say. As well as that she would believe him. Every word.
She had to remember why that ever used to be a bad thing. And quick, as long as she was still silent and could do nothing except smile and watch and listen.
“Fuck,” Fabian stammered, “I should have never touched this weird-ass game!” It clearly lacked conviction though, seeing how even as he said those things his eyes never once left the two women in their embrace. Charles whined, tears running down his cheeks as the lone clue of him still noticing what was spoken around him before yet another repetition of the phrase from the card came over his lips: “B-Broken toys must… play. Broken toys must obey!” “I warned you!” Andrew at this point had resigned himself to the situation and just waved with the disregarded paper slip in his hands. “But no, of course nobody listens to the nerd. Let’s just be dumb and disregard all he says. Why would it be relevant that… Oh, damn, sorry pal, I forgot!” Fabian glared daggers at him, but the only words he could utter were: “I’m a dumb boy. Dumb boys make fine toys.” Just like the others, something compelled him to keep repeating what the game spelled out for him until with a grunt that was surely as much pain as pleasure he spurted another drizzle of cum in the tissue Andrew offered. “You fucking nerd,” he wheezed first thing as soon as his mouth did what he willed it to again, “you’ll bloody pay for that. There’s gotta be a card in there telling people to be a slave and you bet I’ll make you draw it. Both of you!” Try as she might, Mary couldn’t fight back her feisty grin at his words: “Don’t be dumb, Fab. If there’s only one card like that we can’t both draw it. You’ll have to get your priorities straight.” With an innocent whistle that would have seemed fake at the best of times she waited exactly until he started cumming before adding: “Or are you too dumb to do that, huh?” He struggled. With each repetition of the mantra he struggled harder to regain some self-control.
“I mean, you just need to look at the board to tell that it’s going to be difficult at best. Two, maybe three more turns and one of us will reach the goal. And opposed to that, that pile of cards is still this huge. For all we know that card—provided it even exists—could be at the very bottom of the pile. It’s honestly pretty dumb to think anyone would draw it before the game ends.”
He managed to growl in frustration, all other words were sealed by what the card forced him to declare.
“I’m a dumb boy. Dumb boys make fine toys.” Fabian didn’t even notice the trickle of drool anymore, nor anything else from the looks of it. Mary clearly remembered the moment his eyes rolled back in tormented arousal when she’d whispered: “Cumming makes you dumb. So no more orgasms for you, big boy. Trust me, that’s the smart thing to do.” His brain had not been able to take it. If he came, he declared himself dumb. If he or someone else did that for any reason, he had to keep doing it until his next orgasm. Which, if he accepted her advice, he’d never reach. Meaning he’d be stuck with his mantra for a long, long time. It had been too much for his poor brain to take. And she had almost soaked her panties seeing the expression on his face. Pure, vulnerable weakness.
Even if she wanted to, she would have been unable to ignore his cock, throbbing with pent-up desire. “Oh, girl.” Andrew’s calm voice made her tense with anticipation. “If you want to stare at cock so urgently, there’s one right here.” She didn’t dare examine his face—but she didn’t need to. His smirk was audible in his voice as he ordered: “Look at it.” No way around it. She had not the slightest choice as that strange compulsion turned her head, set her eyes on his penis right in front of her. “Tell me you are a slut for my cock.” Surely it was the game that made her do it. Surely it was a card he used on her which made her moisten her lips before breathing: “I am a slut for your cock.” And surely the weird power it held over her was to blame for how she put so much more innuendo into it than she ever intended.
As her fingers placed down the card telling her to ‘Tease one other player, yet prevent them from reaching orgasm’ she didn’t know which was hotter. That Fabian too was breaking before her eyes. Or that with her and Andrew being the only players still in the running she was only one unlucky roll away from sharing his fate. Well, that could be one lucky roll away from landing on the goal. But it would be close. Both their pieces were within a laughably small distance to the finishing line. There was no realistic way this would be long now—but it was the unrealistic chance of it happening anyways that caused her to shift in her seat restless and wary of his roll. Drawing a card that let him get away… shouldn’t happen, right? Much less one that would get in her way. She was going to be fine. Wasn’t she?
Pretty much every field up to the goal required another card at this point. No matter where he’d land—unless he’d luck out and land on the goal in one go—he’d have to pick one up. She’d win this. It was fine. It was… “Oh.” “What’s up?” Mary hoped she sounded carefree. She hoped she hid well enough how much she hoped… Wait, what exactly? What did she really want to be written on that card? Thinking about it, she’d rather not think about it too much. “This is gonna be awkward,” he said and flipped the card around so she could read it herself. “All active players are to move back to the last green field and draw the appropriate number of cards.” It took a lot to make her curse, but this time she couldn’t keep herself from mumbling some rather ill-mannered things under her breath. “Well, at least this far in it’s not much of a set-back,” he tried to console her, “just a single field. It changes basically nothing.” In response she just made an all-encompassing gesture around the room: “You think so?” They both flipped their respective cards for the other to see. But even as she looked at hers, her mouth developed a strange life of its own: “Read this aloud to the other players: ‘I must obey all given orders for one hour’.” Eyes wide in shock she looked at his. “What a coincidence,” he feebly joked. His card told him to only address others using imperatives for one hour. He had been right. This would be awkward. And, as Mary desperately tried reasoning to herself, hopefully not as hot as her body expected.
So close! Only fractions of an inch separated his cock from her face. If she stretched out her tongue she was sure she could lick it. But not yet. He hadn’t given his permission yet. Each breath filled her lungs with his scent, musk and heat and something else that her addled brain couldn’t name right now. It reminded her of winter, hot alcohol and bitter sweets. She wanted. No, that wasn’t right, she craved. It would be so easy. All she would have to do was open her mouth, maybe lean a tiny bit forward. And then she would taste him, feel him, please him. Words ran through the back of her head—or was it her ears maybe?—telling her exactly what she should do right now. But she couldn’t. Why could she not do something so easy? The next moment she wanted to laugh. It was obvious. He hadn’t told her to. As simple as that. Her eyes sought his, wordlessly pleaded for things her head would have hesitated to express. All it did was make him chuckle and comb her hair with his fingers. “Not like this, slut. That would be far too cheap. Use words. Tell me what you want.”
“I want… ” What? Her head swam with his scent while she tried thinking of the proper thing to say. She wanted so much. Get up and out of this room. Never move from this spot between his legs. Tell him it was just a game and they should call it even here. Swallow his cock until he drowned her in cum. She wanted to do anything he’d tell her. Before he’d tell her to never want anything else again. She knew she would obey if he did. And she hated how slick her vagina got at the realization.
“Tell me you want this.” All her struggle voided like that, with a single order. “I want this.” She hated how sultry she sounded. How eager. But most of all she hated how much her body loved the sound of the things he made her state. “Tell me you want to be enslaved.” “I want to be enslaved.” It was alright, just now that was a trick her nerves played on her. There was no way that just pushed her close to cumming or some such! “Tell me you want it bad.” “I want it soo bad!” …That was odd. But surely the game was to blame. It had to be. “Tell me I will take your free will away.” Her eyes went wide—but not even she could tell if out of fear or arousal. “You will take my free will away.” “Tell me you love being my slave.” “I love being your slave.” He nodded. “How true. Love being my slave!” A sharp, quivering breath was all the outward sign she could give as one phrase of his turned her world upside down. He was in her head now. And she fucking adored every second of it. He leaned in close to guarantee she’d catch him whispering: “One last question, Mary: Did you know this would happen when you brought out that game?” Just from feeling his warm voice so near her head her eyes rolled back, pure euphoria of being so close to her master crushing every coherent thought until nothing but tingling desire was left. Soon. All too soon she would obediently respond. But until then, for a few more moments of blissful, helpless silence his power over her brought the biggest smile to her face and kept her unable to talk.