A Wicked Game You Play

A Wicked Game You Play

Published by Darker Pleasures at
Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Darker Pleasures. All rights
reserved.

Edited by Matt Nicholson

Beta read by Sue Foulkes

Cover image by
walterarce/123RF Stock Photos

Smashword Edition, License Notes

This work contains graphic language and
sexual depictions of sometimes extreme consensual and
semi-consensual female bondage and sadomasochism. It is intended
for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under
eighteen years of age. This book is a work of fiction. Names,
characters places and incidents are products of the authors’
imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual
events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce
or redistribute this book or portions thereof in any form
whatsoever. For information, address Darker Pleasures, webmaster at
darkerpleasures.com.

It was Robert’s idea. His game. “Harmless
fun. A test of character,” he said. The game had become darker
lately, Kate thought as she ambled toward the disused logging camp,
a mile or two outside town. Darker wasn’t necessarily bad. It had
great possibilities, in fact. But the forest had a bad reputation.
Bleak and uninviting, even in summer, few townsfolk went there.
With winter approaching, practically no one else did either.

Despite the warmth of her parka, sweater,
jeans and boots, Kate shivered.
Here?
Robert’s e-mail had
been definite about the location. He’d even sent her the GPS
location. This was where she had to be. Here—precisely in the
middle of nowhere. So here she was. Robert’s latest game had begun.
If it wasn’t as good for her as it was for him this time, she
thought it might be the last one she played with him.

At the edge of the forest, in a small grassy
clearing, Kate stopped. Looking around, she wondered if he’d
arrived. Was he there—watching from the cover of trees—watching as
she fulfilled his “fantasy request,” as he called it? He said she’d
been bad. This was her punishment. Robert’s game. Yet she
hesitated.
It’s not too late to back out,
she said to
herself.
Robert didn’t own her!
But, he really did, at least
as long as she was willing to play.

Apprehensive, Kate scanned the horizon. She
really was alone, and she mentally prepared herself. Robert had
insisted she be completely naked, her sexy body bared to the
elements.

Robert’s game—in the afternoon two days ago
at his Mom’s house, Kate bent reluctantly against the dining room
wall. Role-playing, he called it. She assumed the role of the maid.
Robert acted as the Master of the house.

Robert looked at her with increasing
impatience. “Lift up your skirt.”

“
Robert, your mother's upstairs,” Kate
reminded him in a harsh whisper even as she lifted the denim skirt
high.

“
That’s what makes the game more
interesting.”

“
She’ll hear us and come down.”

“
I know. There’s nothing wrong with her
hearing. If you cry out, she’ll hear. Now do as I say and lift your
skirt.”

“
You’re not going to hurt me, are
you?”

He stroked her upturned ass with the flat of
a wooden stirring spoon.

“
Of course I’m going to hurt you, baby
doll. That’s part of the game,” he said as he sunk his fingers deep
into her firm flesh, tapping the opposite side with the
spoon.

“
And you’re not to make a sound,” he
reminded as he pulled her red thong panties down over her knees,
beginning the game.

It was a wicked game he played. She found
that she liked wicked a lot more than she’d thought.

She removed her parka.
I must be mad
,
she told herself. She pulled up her blouse, rolling the warm,
woolen garment over her perky breasts, stopping just above them,
much like putting a toe into the water before taking an icy plunge.
Straight away, the cold air brought goose bumps to her skin. She
shivered. Exposed to the wintry breeze, her breasts felt heavier,
more sensitive, as though frosty fingers brushed them. Her cherry
nipples puckered and hardened in protest. Her aureoles drew into
tight, wrinkled circles.

With cold-bitten fingers, Kate un-looped her
belt and eased her skin-hugging jeans halfway down her bottom. The
cold bit even harder there, so she decided to finish off up top,
removing the sweater and tossing her bra into the pile. She
followed with her jeans. Next, her panties skimmed down past her
knees.

The sharp air bit at her naked thighs and
nipped between them as, surrounded by skeletal trees swaying in the
blustery wind, she stripped naked.

Kate kept walking, lifting her breasts,
cupping them protectively while thinking about Robert’s e-mail.
Believing he was somewhere close by watching, she took her nipples
between her thumbs and forefingers. She squeezed the tender buds.
Kate counted the seconds as her cold fingers twisted, summoning
shards of dull pain as she pulled, harder and harder. The pain was
a welcome glow, diverting her attention from the cold. It made her
shiver as much as the temperature.

She lifted and twisted, then let the tips of
her fingernails score the tender flesh.

“Yes,” she groaned, increasing the
self-inflicted pain. She spread her legs and slipped one hand
between them. She fondled her sex, brushing her vulva with a quick
caress that made her clit tingle and warmed her in ways that no
cold could penetrate.

She squatted down, but found the grass too
cold and prickly to serve as a bed. Her fingers returned to her
sex, pressing into the tight sheath of her softening pussy.

Slowing her hand for a moment, Kate looked
around guiltily.
What if someone discovered me like this; naked,
alone, playing with myself?

Deciding it was too late to worry, she
returned to work by dragging her nails from the base of her breast
to the nipple, crushing the heavy mound in her grasp. A fresh
shiver coursed through her body. This time, it wasn’t only the cold
that caused her to quake.

With a casual self-assurance, Kate started
stroking. She let her legs drift open to the loving caress of her
hand. Her thighs parted, as if to receive a lover, a fantasy
stranger who, having found her, forced her to debase herself,
forced her to hurt herself, and…

Dreamily, she noticed the discarded fridge
that Robert had said would be there.

Remembering his instructions, she stopped,
albeit with reluctance, and looked inside. The first thing that
caught her eyes was the curved pair of electrician’s pliers.

She looked at them, her brow creasing into a
frown as she picked them up.
What am I supposed to do with
these?

Kate tested the blades against her fingers.
They were fairly blunt, but sharp enough to cut with a bit of
pressure behind them. Obviously meant for precision grabbing and
holding, she had little doubt that the fine tips could easily crush
the hypothetical grass stem, or anything similar. Experimentally,
she stroked the undersides of her breasts with the finer tip,
applying enough pressure to leave a red mark that faded when she
lifted the pliers from her skin. She moved behind a hard nipple and
squeezed experimentally. The elastic flesh of her aureole snagged
against the cold, ribbed jaws of the tool.

Becoming more adventurous, Kate squeezed
until a dull pain throbbed between the curved steel. For one
moment, a thought blazed through her mind:
a quick, hard snip
and that would be it!
Daring herself, Kate let her aureole slip
through the metal, closing the pliers again just before her nipple
could escape.
I wonder how it would feel?

She suppressed the thought, not quite ready
to go there despite a curiosity that had plagued her since the
first time she realized she enjoyed...this. Instead, she imagined
Robert’s teeth in place of the pliers, his cock pushing deep into
her pussy.

Closing her eyes, she squeezed the pliers
some more. She pushed her fingers deeper inside her pussy in
response to the added pain and shuddered. The thrill of penetration
blotted out the dull, partially satisfying pain of her nipple
scissored between the biting blades. It was never as good when she
did it to herself. She considered the quick snip again.

Still reining in her desire, she noticed that
the blades had left their deep colored imprints on her aureole. The
temporary marks glowed dully, like hickeys she thought, before the
chill air puckered it into a heavy, leaded point once more.

Her hand steadier this time, Kate pressed the
pliers' cold claws to the swollen underside of her other breast.
The blade closed on her puckered aureole halfway between her nipple
and the white of her breasts, while her fingertips circled the
prominent bud of her clitoris.

Do it
, a warm voice inside her head
urged. Delicately, she pricked the darkened aureole, leaving a tiny
scratch that roused nerve endings and made her eyelids flutter. Her
hand trembled.
Do it!
the voice demanded.

She thought of Robert, of how he liked to
suck at her breasts, trapping the tip like a malevolent quixotic
baby with teeth bared in a loving snarl. He often left lasting
marks as evidence of his ardor. The sides of the blades,
dull-sharp, stretched the other hapless nipple up from her breast.
She pulled and stretched, deliberately sending sharp spikes of pain
shooting through the trapped flesh.

She continued to work her sex with her other
hand, probing, rubbing and soothing her agitated clit, pressing
against the inflamed membranes of her cunt while closing the pliers
harder. Her belly flooded with excitement as the fervid pain
heating her nipple wrung a cry from her lips.

She wanted so much for Robert to find her, to
take over, brutalize her and fuck her raw. Her back arched as she
imagined being taken from behind. She raised and lowered her hips.
She squeezed the pliers harder, harder, as hard as she dared,
bruising herself as her fingers worked feverishly. She wished that,
at the same time as she came, Robert would close his hands even
harder than she had been able to—to stretch her limits like she
stretched her breasts.

She felt her womb start to throb, her pussy
begin the tell-tale tingling. Quickly, she snagged her other nipple
in a brutal, fingernail-gouging pinch and pulled her breasts
together until she was able to trap both nipples between the cold
steel jaws. She threw her hand back between her legs, building
herself back to a climactic frenzy with only a few quick rubs.

Her pain threshold soaring with the pending
climax, she squeezed almost as tight as she could, twisting and
yanking at the tips of her breasts. Any harder and she’d cut them.
She was certain of that. Her belly began to convulse and her orgasm
seized her so fiercely that it seemed as though it had been ripped
from her soul.

“Robert!” she cried, hoping to feel the
sudden rush of his hands crushing her hips, his cock slamming wet
and hot into her. But there was no reply.

She worked herself until her knees almost
buckled and the electric tingling finally faded. Her eyes watering
from the pain and the intensity of her orgasm, Kate dropped the
pliers back where she’d found them.

Once she’d caught her breath, reality flooded
back as her moment of madness passed. Butterflies of apprehension
fluttered in her stomach. She suddenly felt vulnerable, cold and
alone. But, though she couldn’t see him, she was certain he was
there, somewhere, watching.

She thought again about his orders. Though
she was spent for the moment, she knew herself well enough. With
the right stimulation, she’d quickly recover. Glancing back into
the old refrigerator, she chose the cut branch.

Knowing she’d never be able to use it on
herself the way he could, she summoned an image in her mind. His
arms encircled her, one around her waist and the other tight across
her chest. His mouth seized hers in a passionate kiss. His hard
cock was like a fire inside of her, a flame that flickered in the
heart of her sex, deep inside, where she wanted his thrusting
hardness, his come. She pressed the hard stick across her breasts,
as if his arm were there, dragging its rough bark across her
nipples then down her belly.

The surly tip of the tree branch dragged past
the ticklish hollow of her belly, then lightly, she roused her
clit. Holding her pussy lips open, she pressed the knotty edge of
the branch against her moistening labia. She groaned out loud, her
cries telling her watcher she was ready, wanting, in heat. With a
clarity that spurred her on, Kate saw herself as though through his
eyes; in a woodland clearing on a cold autumn day, a lovely, naked
girl making love to herself. The rough caress of the wood, spiteful
and uncaring, dragged against her clit, her swollen labia.