The Drinking Game

As dominatrixes my girl friends and I like to have fun with our slaves. Fun – that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

Each week, we congregate at one or another’s place and play with our slaves. Sometimes, it’s all of ‘em – sometimes, just one provides the fun and games.

There are three of us dominas, so I’ll introduce us all. First, my dearest friend, Mistress Fleur. She’s 50, blonde, almost skinny, but nice, firm breasts. Fair pubic hair and flashing blue eyes.

Then there’s Mistress Ebony – OK, I know, there’s a million of ‘em, but Ebony is a bloody good domme. She’s 40, and her age equates to her bust. Her nipples are surrounded by the darkest, biggest areolae you’ve ever seen. Shaves her snatch back to a dark stubble.

Finally, moi.  I call myself Red because I’ve got vivid red hair, and a good bust, and I shave down there. I’m 35 and I’m the only one who’s not American. I’m from England, you may have seen me in some of those femdom videos. I’ve left Manchester now, though, and set up at a place I called the Raunch Ranch, outside Dallas.

This week, it’s my turn to host the event and Mistress Ebony has requested that one of her new slaves – her newest, in fact – be the subject of the game. That’s fine by us, Ebony usually has some really lovely kinky sluts as slaves.

The day of the fun and games dawned cloudless and hot, and Ebony arrived with her slave around 10am – we usually start playing around midday, but on her arrival she explained: “I want him to be ready for when everyone’s here, I wanna keep him hanging around, you ‘kay with that?”

I nodded. He looked the sort of guy who would look good “hanging around”.

“This is Cunt,” said Ebony, introducing me to her new plaything. “He’s 30, and when he’s naked you’ll be able to see he’s not a disappointment.”

From where he stood, I could he looked pretty good. He wasn’t naked but damn near close enough for it not to matter. His only clothing – clothing, that’s a laugh – was a shiny little black PVC posing pouch, which bunched his cock and balls. His body was hairless – even his head was shaved – and he was built for punishment! His muscles gleamed as he stood out in the immaculately-groomed garden, back of my mansion.

“Hi ya, Cunt,” I smiled at him, as he stood nervously awaiting whatever his mistress had in store for him.

“Hello, Mistress Red,” he said, in a clear voice, deep and dark. He was lovely – about 6 feet tall, and with a suitably humble tone to his manner.

“Right, cunt,” snapped Mistress Ebony, “go to the barn and there you’ll find a metal flogging frame. Bring it out and I want it set up by the pool, over there.”

She indicated a spot by my lovely large pool, where we often held the games when it was my turn to host the three dommes. The slave nodded, said “Yes, mistress” and walked away to the barn, his buttocks gleaming in the hot sun. Oh, I forgot, he had a deep, bronze tan.

“He’s fuckin’ gorgeous,” I told the dark domme. “What’s his speciality?”

Ebony grinned. “Piss,” she said. “Only when he signed himself over to me, he thought it was just gonna be drinking from my pussy and enjoying the odd golden shower. But now he knows there’s a fuck sight more to it.”

I laughed, typical Ebony – stretching her slaves’ limits to the max!

The bronzed, superbly-built slave soon returned with the flogging frame, which he rolled into place where I indicated, facing a row of three leather-padded sun recliners, which faced out towards the pool.

“OK, Cunt,” said Ebony, when the frame was in place, “now fetch the piss and hang it in place, you know the drill.”

The slave left to go to Ebony’s big Lexus and soon returned, hefting a large rubber bag. At each end of the neck were two D-rings. From the bottom of the bag, a tube descended. Both the bag and the tube were clear, the contents plainly visible.

And those contents were a darkish, yellow liquid. I didn’t need to ask what it was! “How much?” was my only query to Mistress Ebony.

“A gallon,” she remarked, casually.

“A gallon?” I said. “Fuck, Ebony, that’s eight fuckin’ pints!”

“Yeah, don’t I know it,” she grinned. “Or, rather, don’t he know it!”

“Tasty, eh, Cunt?” I asked.

“Yes, mistress,” he said, politely, “extremely.”

Ebony let out a big chuckle. “Tell Mistress Red why it’s so fuckin’ tasty, Cunt,” she ordered her slut.

“Because it’s Mistress Ebony’s first urine of each day for the past seven days,” said the slave, again very politely.

“Yukkk,” I said, in mock disgust, although the thought really appealed to me. “The first overnight piss is always the strongest.”

Ebony smiled. “Yep, sure is,” she agreed, “and especially when I’ve had a cup of really strong coffee before my piss!”

We both roared with laughter and then Ebony asked: “Red, you gotta stool, Cunt here can stand on while he’s setting up for the game?”

“Sure, I’ll fetch a leather settle from inside the house,” I said. “Can he hold it for another minute or so?”

I only asked because Cunt’s muscles were gleaming in the strong sun as he grasped the big rubber bag by the D-rings.

“Course he can,” said Ebony. “Cos if he don’t, then I’ll cut his balls off and feed ‘em to him.”

I laughed and ran into the house and returned with a leather settle, which I placed directly beneath the crossbar on the flogging frame. Cunt stepped onto it, his lovely butt rippling as he climbed up, then he fixed the bag onto the middle of the cross beam, snapping the D-rings shut so it was held in place, swaying slightly for a minute or two.

“Right, Cunt,” snapped Ebony, “now let’s have you in place for this here fun and games you’re so fuckin’ keen to show off for me and my friends.”

Cunt stepped beneath the crossbar which had at each end the support poles of the metal contraption. Set in the right angles of the crossbar and upright poles, were thick leather wrist straps.

The slave positioned himself and placed his left wrist in one strap. Ebony stepped forward and put his right into place for him.

Then she whipped the posing pouch away from his groin and I looked on in appreciation as I saw his heavy equipment. His cock was thick and uncut. His ball bag was darkish brown and heavy. He had been shaved clean of public hair. His cock began to rise slightly towards an erection.

Ebony then strapped his ankles in the leather restraints at the foot of the poles, which were set at such a height to make the slave in bondage stretch up onto tiptoe. The new stance made his muscles strain – he looked fuckin’ lovely!

“Want me to fit him out at the mouthpiece, Red?” asked Ebony, when her slut was in place.

I looked at my watch. Fleur would be arriving in about 90 minutes, according to my Rolex Oyster. “Why not,” I said, “then we’ll be ready to go as soon as she’s here.”

“Not quite,” said Ebony, as she fitted the straps at the end of the tubing hanging from the piss bag around her slave’s cheeks and tied them together just above the nape of his neck. “There’s one final refinement.”

I didn’t pry, but watched as the dark beauty popped the spigot holding the urine from the bag open and popped it into Cunt’s mouth. “Plug it with your tongue, Cunt,” she snapped, and the slave obviously complied.

“There,” said Ebony, stepping back and looking at her now hard-cocked slave, “all ready for the game. Now, Red, let’s have a nice cold drink, I’m thirsty as.”

“What about Cunt?” I asked. “Something tells me he might be thirsty too!”

Ebony nodded. “Cunt hasn’t had a thing to drink since 8 o’clock last night.” Then she laughed. “Oh, silly me, I forgot – he did have a drink of my piss just before lights out, didn’t you, Cunt?”

The tethered, erect-pricked Cunt nodded, as he kept his tongue firmly in place at the end of the tube, to prevent “spillage”.

Ebony then walked in front of her slut slave, and stroked his cock, which if anything became even harder. “Now,” she told him, “Mistress Red and I are going inside for some nice cool drinks.

“And then when Mistress Fleur’s here, then we’ll come out and get started on you, baby. And you can start drinking my lovely piss, which I know you like so much. But right now, just try to relax and hang around in this lovely sun, OK?”

The brown-eyed slave nodded, obediently to his busty mistress. Fuck, there wasn’t anything he could say, was there? What with the piss tube from the urine bag hanging there in his mouth.

In the kitchen, I took a large jug of wine spritzer from the refrigerator and as we sipped on the cooling drinks, we could look out at the naked, suspended slave, his body now covered in sweat as he hung then, piss tube hanging above his head.

What added to his suffering – of course – was the fact that from where he was awaiting his punishment, he could see me and his mistress enjoying our cool drinks!

As we waited for Fleur to arrive, Ebony told me what was required for her slave’s game. “All we need is three whips,” she said. “A paddle for his butt, a single-tailed lash and triple-tailed lash.”

I nodded. “I’ll fetch ‘em from the torture chamber now,” I said, and five minutes later I laid them on the kitchen table. Ebony ran the lashes through her fingers, and stroked the heavy leather paddle.

“Fuckin’ great,” she said. “Now, just to add to his discomfort, babe, why don’t you get into your domme gear and then take these out to where Cunt’s hangin’ about, so he can feast his eyes on his implements of punishment! Give him somethin’ more to think about, eh?”

Which sure suited me – any little addition to a slave’s agony of waiting is all perfectly fine in my domination book!

So I went upstairs, and got into the outfit I’d chosen for the day’s entertainment, while Ebony also got herself prepared.

I went for a red leather bustier, which goes perfectly with my dazzling red hair, and red boots which came to half-way up my thighs. I didn’t bother with panties, let him feast his eyes on my snatch!

Ebony chose a black leather quarter-cup bra, a black leather suspender belt, black seamed stockings and shiny black patent leather “Fuck me” shoes. She left her pussy bare, too, naturally.

Downstairs, I picked up the three implements of correction and walked out into the strong sun. I like to think that Cunt gave a wide-eyed stare of lust and appreciation as I walked towards him.

I laid the three flagellation utensils on the leather settle, which was standing just in front of his naked body, and gave his now-limp cock a deft stroke as I saw him looking down at them, warily.

“Hi Cunt,” I said, in my “I’m gonna flog you” tone, “I thought you’d just like to get a good look at what we’ll be laying into you with. Now, we won’t keep you hanging about too much longer, Mistress Fleur’s due soon.”

Then, cupping his balls and giving him a slight squeeze, I asked: “You OK out here, Cunt? Not too uncomfortable?”

He shook his head in what I took to be a “No, mistress, everything’s fine” gesture and then slapped his cock playfully.

To my pleasure, he was sporting a pre-cum-drooling hard-on when I turned on my heel and gave him a great view of my shapely ass as I walked away from him back into the house.

I’d hardly got back inside the coolness of my mansion, when Fleur was walking into the kitchen. “Fuck,” she said, “it’s hot. Pour me a cold glass, while I get changed.”

Then she went upstairs to my bedroom, and stepped back down in about five minutes, dressed for “action” as it were.

Fleur looked stunning. Her blonde hair was cropped in a short, no-nonsense crop, her lips were bright red, and she wore a stunning black PVC playsuit for the game outside with Cunt.

It was one of this lace-up the middle jobs, with cut-outs for her smallish but firm breasts. It was also crotchless, so her pretty little trimmed blonde bush was on display, the labia peeping below the hair. Domination boots, also black, completed her “Don’t fuck with me” attire.

Sipping on a spritzer, Fleur looked out at the naked slave. “Hmmm,” she said, appreciatively, “very nice. How long’s he been hangin’ around waiting for us?”

I checked my Rolex. “Almost an hour and a half,” I said.

“Fuck,” said Fleur, “he must be dyin’ for it by now.” Then she concentrated on the rubber bag. “Sheet, Ebony, how much in that bag?”

Ebony laughed. “Take a guess.”

Fleur frowned. “A gallon?” she said.

“Go to the top of the class,” said the black bird.

“Say what,” said Fleur, chugging back some spritzer and holding out her glass for a refill, “what say we keep him hangin’ around a little longer? I’ll go out and apologize to him, but I’ll say I’m so thirsty and would he mind waiting a little longer?”

Ebony and I nodded our agreement. “Go ahead,” said the slave’s mistress. “He’s our toy – we can do what we fuckin’ well like.”

We swung open the kitchen’s large sliding windows and watched as Fleur trotted out to the naked, sweat-streaked slave, hanging in his tip-toe bondage.

In one hand she held her cold glass of spritzer, and in the other she reached out for Cunt’s cock. He began to erect once more.

“Hi baby,” said Fleur, smiling at him. “Look, I do hope you don’t mind, but I’ve not seen my friends for over a week and we just want to catch up on the news. Mind if we keep you waitin’ just a eensy, teensy, weensy bit longer?”

What could poor old Cunt say? Nothing. But he could shake his head.

“Great,” smiled Fleur, still stroking his now raging stiffy, “I’ll take that as a ‘No, Mistress Fleur, take as long as you like’ nod. Correct?”

Cunt nodded his head, his tongue still blocking the flow of Mistress Ebony’s strong-tasting morning urine, sweat flowing down his superbly-toned body.

Then Fleur gave him a chaste little peck on his perspiration-covered cheek and walked away from him, back into the kitchen.

Back in the kitchen, I had just mixed another spritzer – a bottle of Pinot Grigio, a bottle of sparkling Italian mineral water and ice cubes- when Fleur walked back in.

“All right Ebony,” she said, as we all quaffed on our refreshing drinks, “tell us what this game’s all about.”

To be continued.

        

                               The Drinking Game – Part 2

“Say what,” said Ebony, “I’ll grab the gear bag and I’ll explain it to you outside, so Cunt can hear every word. That way it’ll add to his – oh, Red, you’re good at this, what am I getting’ at?”

I grinned. “It will add to the awful apprehension he’s been feeling since you’ve had him suspended in that flogging frame with a gallon of piss hanging over his head for the past hour and a half,” I said.

“Yeah,” smiled Ebony, “somethin’ like that!”

And with that we three dommes marched out to the spot chosen for Cunt’s punishment. His naked body was now glistening all over with sweat, and his cock started to rise towards a hard-on as he saw all three of his tormentresses walk towards him.

Ebony indicated that Fleur and I should lie back on sun loungers, and then she delved into her gear bag. From it, she produced a sheet of paper, a ballpoint pen, one of those timers which pours sand from one glass down to another, and a digital clock.

“Right,” she said, “now pay attention, team. This is just a little game to play as part of the way we punish this pervert here. Each section of his punishment will be timed by the timer to last 10 minutes.

“After 10 minutes with the leather paddle, he gets permission to suck on the tube holding my glorious golden nectar. Then, the second domme will take up the single-tailed lash.

“When she cracks it across his back, buttocks – whatever – it’s the signal for him to block the end of the tubing with his tongue again, and we turn the timer over and he gets 10 more minutes.

“Then he gets a ‘comfort stop’ to suck on more of my sweet-tasting piss, and then the third domme gets stuck into him with the three-tailed lash. And so on.

“Now, the game for us is to estimate how long it’s gonna take for him to empty the piss bag – a gallon of urine, remember. And it’s in 10-minute blocks – say, for example, between 40 and 50 minutes. OK, who wants to go first?”

Fleur looked at me, then at the hard-cocked slut in the frame, and asked: “This Cunt, as you call him, is he a real piss freak?”

Ebony nodded. “When he’s drinking straight from my pisser, he’s hard all the time. He’s a real piss perve, Fleur.”

Fleur pondered. “And he gets around a minute, or so, as we change floggers, and so on?”

Ebony nodded. “Yep, no one’s allowed to drag it out to ridiculous lengths, but there’s no fuckin’ rush, either. I mean, we’re all here to enjoy ourselves, right?”

Then I asked my question. “But surely, Ebony, you’re at a huge advantage over me and Fleur, here,” I said. “I mean, you know how long it’s gonna take him?”

Ebony shook her head. “Nope, never played this game with Cunt before. That correct, Cunt?”

The naked, sweating slave nodded his head, miserably.

Fleur went on. “OK, I’ll take your word for it, Ebony – but I’d never trust a fuckin’ slave!”

After we’d stopped laughing, the PVC-clad domme said: “Well, if I’m gonna guess I’d say it would have to be more than an hour, so I’ll give him between 70 and 80 minutes.”

Ebony wrote Fleur’s estimate down on the paper. “Red,” she asked, “what about you?”

I looked up at the sweating slave and saw how his cock head was oozing globs of pre-cum. Fuck, he was getting off on this!

“Let’s say 80 to 90 minutes,” I said. “That would seem to be about right.”

Ebony entered my prediction, then told us: “Well, it’s obviously gonna take him more than an hour, and I think a bit more, and that leaves me with only one choice – I’ll say 90 to 100 minutes.” She wrote it down.

“Now,” she said, “who wants to give him the paddle first? Remember, we all get turns at each of ‘em, because there’s no one way he’s gonna drain all that piss in three whippings.”

I looked at the lovely piss pervert hanging nude before us and said: “OK, I’ll play the game. Let me spank his delicious butt first.”

Ebony grinned and held up a finely manicured hand: “Not so fast, Red, you darling domina, first we’ve got to add something to his body. Can’t have him all naked, he might get ideas above his station.”

And with that, the black dominatrix produced a rubber bag from her gear bag and walked to her sweating slave. She dragged opened the tight neck of the see-through bag and fastened it around his erection and his heavy ball sac.

“There,” she said, stepping to one side and stroking his cock through the rubber, “that’s so if he overflows he won’t piss on your lovely lawn, Red!”

When Ebony returned to the three sun loungers, Fleur had a question: “Hold on, before we start whipping piss slut here, what’s the prize for getting the right answer?”

Ebony paused. “Dunno – let me think.”

But I was ready before her. Picking up the lovely brown leather paddle, I suggested: “The winner gets to go solo with him for the amount of time it takes him to drain the bag of piss.”

Fleur grinned at Ebony. “Sounds fine by me – OK with you, honey?”

Ebony nodded. “Sure, now let’s cut the talk and start the fuckin’ flogging’ – go on, Red, I know you can’t wait!”

She was right there. I walked slowly behind the naked pain slut, smiling at his apprehensive look as I stepped behind him and looked at his muscle-rippling back, buttocks and thighs. His calves, too, were straining from his tip-toe position.

I brought my arm back and saw Ebony press the clock timer, at the same time turning over the timer, so the grains of sands started to fall to the glass below. “Go ahead, Red,” she told me, “he’s all yours!”

The leather whipped across his butt and made the firm, bronzed flesh bounce as it impacted on him. I worked slowly on him, switching from side to side, a stroke or three from the left hand, then repeating the dose with the right.

Soon his butt was a warm red color, despite his suntan, and then I saw that Fleur and his mistress, were both fingering their pussies as they lay back on their loungers in front of him.

It was time for me to add some oral humiliation to his whipping.

Cracking the paddle across the back of his left thigh I called out: “Look at the mistresses, Cunt. They’re enjoying themselves. How about you? I guess you’re in pain, while they’re in pleasure.”

Fleur called to me: “Well, he sure as hell has lost his hard-on, Red. He’s as limp as. Seems like that paddle isn’t his idea of floggin’ fun!”

“And that’s a fuckin’ pity,” said Ebony, her voice excited from her masturbation as she watched her slave being punished, “because you’re only half-way through his 10 minutes, Red!”

I grinned and hefted the paddle against the back of his right thigh, then worked it over steadily, before returning to even up the count on his left.

Then, with the last few minutes, I re-ignited his butt.

At last Ebony shouted “Time’s up, Red – time to suck on that tubing, Cunt!”

As I placed the paddle on the leather settle, Fleur got up and picked up the single-tailed lash. “Let me at him, ladies,” she said, as I lay back on my warm-leathered lounger, and watched as Cunt took his first drink.

First, he removed his tongue from its blocking place on the end of the tube, and as he did a large air bubble rose through the urine bag, until it billowed at the top of the yellow surface, with a churning of the piss.

Then he started to glug the golden cocktail down while Fleur ran the single-lashed flogger across his upper chest before strolling behind his suspended figure.

“Time to instruct him to quit quaffing,” shouted Ebony, and Fleur slashed the lash across the slave’s upper back, a stroke which made his body stiffen in his bonds and then jerk from the pain.

Ebony leaned forward and turned the sand glass over and called out to the PVC dominatrix behind her slut: “10 minutes, Fleur, away you go!”

Fleur started his flogging, working on his buttocks, then the backs of his thighs before switching her attention to his upper back and shoulder blades.

I looked at the urine bag above the sweat-pouring pervert’s head. “How much has he got down so far, you reckon, Ebony?”

She looked at the urine level and told me: “I think he’s got through more than a pint, but not two. Still, he’s thirsty and he’s gonna get through more the first three or four chugs. But after that, he’s gonna find it fuckin’ hard going to drain the bag. Sheeeeet – a gallon, that’s a lot of piss!”

As Fleur continued her flagellation of Cunt, I slowly stroked myself to a semi-orgasm, but I decided to hold off, and got up to walk around behind the slightly-swaying slave’s torso to see what effect Fleur was having on his toned body.

The sight was arousing, even to an experienced domina like myself!

His shoulder blades and upper back were a profusion of stripes where the single-tailed lash had left its calling card on his skin. Similar thing stripes had appeared on his butt, which was already a bright red from the earlier application of the broader leather paddle.

Then I heard Ebony speaking. “OK, Fleur, time’s up. Get chugging, Cunt!”

I waited behind the swaying slave as Fleur replaced the lash on the settle, and lay back on her lounger. Then Ebony was standing beside me, running the three tails of the triple flogger through her fingers, a cruel smile on her lovely face.

Then Fleur leaned forward to turn the glass timer over. “OK, Cunt,” she informed our submissive, “block the fuckin’ tube.”

Cunt did as he was told, sending another air bubble floating up through the urine bag to the surface of the piss.

“Resume the floggin’, Ebony,” called Mistress Fleur, and I stepped away to admire the black domme’s whip technique.

She drew her arm back lazily, then sent the flogger’s cruel tips splatting against the slave’s criss-crossed upper back. His body jerked as if struck by electricity as the blow sent waves of pain coursing through him.

Smiling at my fellow domme-in-arms, I walked back to my lounger and resumed my trench stroking and about half-way through Cunt’s third flagellation session, I felt an intensely strong climax crash through my quim. Laying back and revelling in his pain, the lovely warmth of the sun and my cooling spritzer, I looked at Fleur.

She had just calmed down from an orgasm too, and she leaned over so we could clink glasses.

“Here’s to femdom,” she said. “And I’m next with the paddle.”

I grinned: “Be my guest!”

After Ebony had whaled away across her slave’s back, buttocks and the backs of his thighs for over nine minutes, I saw that the sand had almost totally drained into the lower receptacle. When it was fully switched from top to bottom, I called out: “Time’s up, Ebony. Resume drinkies, Cunt!”

As Ebony walked back and laid the triple-flailed flogger on the settle, Cunt chugged as fast as he could on the tube feeding the liquid from the piss bag down to his mouth, then Fleur had stood and was hefting the brown paddle.

She looked back at Ebony and me, and the black domina picked up the glass sand time and turned it over: “Plug the piss tube, Cunt, resume paddling, Fleur!”

As Fleur paid careful attention to the fronts and inside of Cunt’s well-shaped thighs, I saw the pitcher of spritzer had been drained.

“And speaking of piss,” I told her, “we’re out. I’m gonna replenish the pitcher.”

Ebony joined me in the kitchen and we watched Fleur work on the suspended slut from the cool of the house. “How much has he got through now, then, Mistress Expert?” I asked my guest.

Ebony squinted at the tableau before us out by the pool. “I reckon he’s got through about five pints,” she said, “because he gulps down over a pint each ‘comfort stop.”

I made the easy calculation. “Five pints gone, five to go?”

Ebony agreed.  “Yep, five and now he’s gonna slow down. He won’t be able to keep up that intake. We started the game just over half an hour ago – I somehow don’t think Fleur’s guess is gonna be accurate.”

I picked up the new pitcher of Spritzer.

“So it’s between you and me, then Ebony,” I said.

We walked back out into the strong sunshine, where Fleur was now working on Cunt’s belly and pectorals with the paddle.

Ebony and I lay back on our loungers and resumed stroking our wet pussies. The lovely domina looked across at me as Fleur came to the end of her 10-minute punishment session with the sweat-streaked slut.

She raised a glass of cooling spritzer and we clinked glasses: “May the best domme win!”

To be continued.