tagBDSM20 Questions Game

20 Questions Game

bymollycactus©

(Author's note: The following story was inspired by my good friend, QR – you know who you are)



To say that I was apprehensive would be an understatement.

It's true that I was once a submissive, but that was quite some time ago. I have been the Dominant in my relationships for so long now that I am more used to being in control, rather than being the one who is controlled.

So why, you might well ask, was I standing there on that doorstep wearing only a lightweight trench coat? In case that was not clear enough, let me paint this picture. Imagine a blonde haired woman, slightly above average in height. Place her, barefooted, wearing a brown coat that covers her from her neck to below her knees, on the front porch of that house. Mentally, open that coat and look inside. Try not to gape at the fact that she wears no other clothing. While you have the coat open, you may as well observe her ample breasts, and the neatly trimmed bush of blonde hair decorating her sex.

Yes, that was me, standing there for your observation.

Let me explain further.

I have a friend. A very good friend. Not to put too fine a point on it, a friend that I love dearly. A friend, also a Dominant or Domme, to whom I wished to give a very special gift. I decided to give her a gift that only I can give – myself. That is, I gave her a virtual coupon that she could use whenever she wished. This coupon entitled her to use me, in any way that she wishes, for one day. Anything goes. A coupon that represents "consenting to no consent" for one session.

She chose today.

She told me how to dress, and when to arrive. True to my word, I was there.

So why was I apprehensive, I can almost hear you asking. What I have not mentioned up until now is that my friend has a strong streak of sadism in her. She finds the sobs, screams, tears, and anguish of other people erotic and exciting. I knew this about her; I accepted this about her. I felt certain that very soon I would be in pain, and giving her the gift of my own sobs and tears. I was giving this gift of my own free will, and from my love for her, but that did not mean that I could quell my apprehension. Taking a deep breath, I knocked on the door.

Anticipating my arrival, she might have been waiting near the door. Within moments, she opened it and smiling at me, said, "Susan, welcome. You are right on time. Come in." She looked radiant, dressed entirely in lavender, with a silken blouse, smooth, formfitting slacks, and leather pumps. The color suited her short auburn hair perfectly.

As I entered, she gathered me into a hug, then looked carefully into my eyes. "Do you still want to do this?" she inquired.

I nodded, replying, "Yes Jane. I am certain."

"You know I am going to hurt you," she told me flatly, but with a gleam in her eyes.

My heart skipped a beat, and I nodded, biting my lip.

"I want to clarify something," Jane stated. "You will not be gagged. Your safeword is 'red light', correct?"

I swallowed hard, two conflicting emotions erupting in my mind. I was gratified at her obvious concern for my welfare. On the other hand, my primitive brain was gibbering at the thought that she thought I might need to use my safeword. "Yes it is," I replied, hoping that my voice was not quavering. Inwardly, I was making a firm resolution not to use it during our session. I trusted her not to do any permanent damage to me.

"Very well, you silly girl. I think you are being very foolish, but I love you for it. Come with me," Jane commanded, beckoning me with her finger.

We entered the room in her basement that she had prepared for receiving my gift to her. "Take off your coat, and place it on the clothes hook in the corner, and then join me over here."

I unbuttoned and slipped off the coat, hanging it up. Completely naked now, I padded over to where she was waiting. She had seen my body many times before, but she still gave me an intense look, no doubt taking in the view of my smooth unmarred skin. Perhaps imagining what it would probably look like at the conclusion of this session. A ripple of goosebumps coursed along my flesh as my imagination synchronized with hers.

"Hold out your arms, Susan," she instructed me. As I did so, she secured the leather cuffs to my wrists. Each cuff had an iron ring, which would make it easy to clip to a chain or a hook. As Jane knelt down to strap similar cuffs to my ankles, I looked around the room. That was when I noticed the chains hanging from the ceiling joists near the center of the room. Looking below them, I saw two other chains fixed firmly into the basement floor, some distance apart from each other. Ominously, between them I spotted a drain in the floor.

I admitted to myself that I was frightened, but I did not want Jane to see that. If she did, her love for me might cause her to call this off – to refuse my offering. Once we started, however, I planned to hold nothing back from her. I would fully share with her whatever emotions arise, since that was the true heart of my gift.

"Over here now, Susan," she directed, pulling me to stand between the dangling chains. Taking hold of my right wrist and one of the chains, she held them as she looked directly into my eyes and said, "Last chance to change your mind, girl. Once this chain snaps onto the cuff, the only thing that will stop me before I am done is you using your safeword."

My body started trembling, but I looked directly back into her eyes and said, "Do it."

I heard the chain snap into place on the cuff's iron ring.

In a few moments, all four chains held me fast in place. I stood centered over the drain on the floor, with my ankles held slightly more than shoulder width apart. My wrists were held up over my head and out to the sides, placing me in a traditional spreadeagled position. By placing me in the center of the room, Jane could walk easily around me. I found that I could move my pelvis forward and back and side to side a slight amount. That was about all the mobility that Jane was permitting me. I felt completely exposed, and very vulnerable – no doubt exactly what she intended.

"We are going to play a game involving 20 questions," Jane explained. "Answer a question correctly, and I will give you pleasure. Answer a question incorrectly, and I will give you pain. You might imagine that the intensity of the pleasure or the pain will increase as the game progresses. I am not certain that you will find this to be true, but it is a possibility. Do you have any questions about the game, or the rules?"

For some reason, my mouth seemed to have become bone dry. I found that I needed to swallow several times before I could articulate, "No. I have no questions. I understand."

"Good. Let me get a few things ready," she replied. She disappeared behind me and opened the doors to a cabinet that was out of my line of sight. I tried looking back over my shoulder, but to no avail. I felt the trickle of wetness in both of my exposed armpits, and knew that my body was expressing its anxiety by sweating.

Jane returned to stand in front of me, her hands still empty.

"Here we go. Question number 1. What is my middle name?"

I thought hard. I had seen her sign Jane R... I knew her middle name started with R, but I was not sure that she had ever told me what that stood for. Rita? Robbyn? Rhoda? Rhonda? So many female names start with the letter R! Something swam up from the depths of my consciousness. "Roberta," I said hesitantly.

"Correct," Jane said with a pleased expression on her face. She stepped very close to me. I could feel the heat radiating from her body as her hand slipped into the hair at the back of my head. She leaned in and kissed me full on my lips. The kiss began sweetly and tenderly, but it soon transformed into a kiss with such passion that it blazed into my core, leaving me breathless with amazement. Heavens, how that woman could kiss!

When the kiss finally ended, Jane released my head and took a step back. "Question number 2. What color panties did I wear yesterday?"

"Yesterday?" I was thinking. How was I supposed to know that? Then I realized that Jane never said that the questions would be fair. All I could do with this question was go with percentages. I knew that Jane favored black panties. "Black," I guessed.

Jane got another pleased expression on her face, but as I was starting to silently congratulate myself, she said, "Wrong. Yesterday was my day off, so I wore no panties all day long." Still smiling, she drew back her hand and started slapping my breasts harshly. The onslaught was so sudden that for a moment my shocked nerve endings failed to start reporting. But they quickly made up for lost time, reporting a wave of agony that brought tears to my eyes.

When she stopped striking my breasts, Jane paused before asking the next question. She did this between each question, giving me time to fully experience and process whatever sensations she had just given me. I could tell that to get through all 20 questions was going to take a long time.

"Question number 3. Would I prefer to have my pussy licked, or have my ass hole licked?" Jane inquired.

Oh heavens – another poser of a question. I speculated, "Ummmm. I think that you would rather have your pussy licked."

"I'm sorry," she said. "The correct answer is: 'It depends upon who the person is'."

I wondered if I should protest that trick question, but I figured it would probably not do me any good, given my vulnerability. For this punishment, Jane fetched a large number of spring jawed plastic clothespins in various colors. She proceeded to clamp them along both of my armpits, and both of my tender inner thighs. Each jaw clamping into place sent a wave of pain through my flesh. Bad as that was, I knew that eventually it would be worse, when she removed them. The nerve endings scream with pain when they reawaken, I knew from experience. I watched as she tied a piece of string to them, hooking the upper clothespins together. Another string similarly joined the lower clothespins into a unit. I shuddered with apprehension. This would enable her to yank them all off simultaneously.

As my body finally numbed, Jane left the clothespins in place as we proceeded to question number 4. "Which of my areolae is larger?"

This I could answer without hesitation. "Your left one is larger."

"Correct," she acknowledged. I was shocked when she jerked the string, pulling all the upper clothespins from my flesh. I shrieked with pain as all those nerves came back to life. About to protest that this was no reward for correct answer, I was gratified when Jane quickly began caressing this tortured flesh, continuing the caresses until this region tingled with happiness. She grasped the string for the lower set, and asked, "Ready?"

Prepared this time, I nodded. Still, I cried out at the pain as the lower group yanked clear of my tender inner thighs. But Jane quickly began kissing and caressing that burning, reddened area. My crying gradually transformed to moans of delight.

Satisfied that she had rewarded me sufficiently, Jane continued, "Number 5. What would I rather have in my cunt: fingers, cock, fist, or tongue?"

Knowing her, I knew that cock was not the answer. I was not certain if she had ever been fisted, so I decided to guess between the remaining two choices. I knew that fingers could do delightful things, and could reach deeper into my own pussy. I hoped Jane felt the same way. "Fingers," I replied holding my breath.

Jane shook her head slowly. "I much prefer the rush of having a woman on her knees before me, using her tongue submissively as I stare down at her."

She moved behind me, and returned after a few moments carrying a small tube of something in her hand. She already had a glob from it on her fingers. She smeared that gunk along my outer labia. The immediate sensation that blossomed was an icy coldness. But after a few minutes this transformed into intense heat. She showed me the label on the tube: "Icy Hot". It felt like my pussy was in flames! I squirmed. I pulled futilely with my wrists, as if trying to lift my body up out of that flame. Tears streamed down my face as I wept openly.

Gradually, my nerves accommodated, and I stopped pulling so fiercely on my wrist cuffs. Jane took this as a signal that I was ready to hear her question number 6. "What is the strangest thing that has ever been inserted into my ass?" she asked, with an enigmatic smile.

My mind reeled. The strangest thing? All I could think of was the possibility of the spike heel of a stiletto, so that was the guess that I hazarded.

"You might find this hard to believe," Jane chuckled. "But once, someone shoved a well lubricated golf ball up my butt, pushing on it until it went out of sight. Actually, I found the sensation both strange and highly erotic, although getting it back out took a lot of straining on my part. We shall now see what you think about a completely different sensation."

She went upstairs briefly. When she returned, without any preamble, she inserted two rather large ice cubes well up into my cunt, and rammed a third as far up into my ass hole as her finger could push it. The intense cold certainly distracted me from any residual heat that my labia might have been trying to report. But soon the core of my body ached. I hoped that my tissues might go numb, but they never did. Jane watched, her arms crossed and a satisfied expression on her face, as I writhed in the restraints. She waited until the ice had completely melted, and my openings stopped dripping.

Her seventh question was, "What part of a woman attracts me the most?"

I thought about our discussions over the years. I mentally considered choices such as: eyes, breasts, belly, and pussy. I rejected things that could be changed easily, such as hair color, hair style, or choice of wardrobe. I finally decided to answer, "You find her eyes most attractive."

"No, my dear. What I find the most attractive is her scent," Jane corrected me.

I groaned in dismay. I was not doing very well with these questions. True, my goal was to provide my body for my lover's pleasure. But I was beginning to wish that I could get a few more questions right, so that I might obtain some pleasure myself.

As I was mulling this over, Jane had disappeared behind me briefly, and then reappeared at my left side. Without any warning she swung the cane that she was holding, cracking it sharply across my ass cheeks. My body bowed forward, instinctively seeking to escape the pain. The chains prevented me from moving my pelvis more than a few inches. Certainly not enough to escape the onslaught of slashes of that cane across my ass. An expert with caning, Jane beat my ass until it was covered with red welts, but never broke the skin, causing bleeding.

The pain, tolerable at first, grew to be so bad that, while my tears blurred my vision, I was begging her, pleading with her to please stop. But I did not use my safeword, and the begging and pleading became part of my gift to her – music to her ears.

When she finally stopped, she let me hang writhing for a while, relishing my anguish. In spite of my pain, I felt a certain pride of what I was able to endure, given my love for her.

Her eighth question was perhaps her own gift to me; a respite of sorts. "Do I like golden showers?" she asked. "And if so, do I prefer giving or receiving?"

I smiled at her. "I know from personal experience that you love giving them," I answered.

"You are so very right," she laughed. I felt her apply a soothing salve on my ass, before she returned to stand close in front of me. For the rest of this reward, her mouth went to my breasts. She kissed, licked, and sucked each in turn, while her hands caressed the breast that was not in her mouth at the time. I closed my eyes, soaking in all the pleasure she was giving me. It went on for quite some time, but still I sighed when she finally stopped.

She straightened up, licking her lips. "Question number 9. What part of my body do I dislike the most?"

As far as I could remember, in the past she sometimes complained about her butt, so that was the only possibility I could guess.

In response, she shook her head and slipped off her left shoe, holding up her left foot. I was surprised to see the beginnings of a bunion forming on it. "This," she said. "I hate this." Replacing her shoe, she again stepped behind me, returning with a strange device. It was two pieces of wood, perhaps each a little more than a foot in length. They were connected to each other at their ends by two very long bolts, with wing nuts.

I quickly learned what the device was for, as Jane held it in front of my chest. She pulled both of my breasts through the gap between the pieces of wood, and started screwing the wood pieces toward each other with the wing nuts. The wood clamped down onto the base of both my breasts, trapping them there in a vise-like grip. As they were squashed, the feeling transformed from uncomfortable to agonizing. Again I broke out sobbing. The remainder of my breasts became sensitized purplish balloons, as the trapped blood filled them. Jane flicked the purple flesh several times, experimentally. To her delight, I could not stop myself from jerking to each flick.

She must have had nipples on her mind as she asked question number 10. "Do I prefer to have my nipples sucked softly, or vigorously?" was her question.

I may have been a bit beside myself, since my breasts were aching so badly. I whispered, "Softly," mistakenly speaking about my own poor nipples.

"Oh goodness!" she exclaimed. "I expected you to get that one right. You know how vigorously I like mine sucked. Tsk tsk." With that, she gleefully applied nipple tweezers to each of my now very swollen nipples. I screamed as their metal jaws clamped onto my flesh! I was only half way through her set of questions!

It took a bit of effort to focus on question 11. Jane asked, "Do I prefer spanking my submissive with a wooden paddle, or a bare hand?"

I considered carefully before answering. Making up my mind, I said, "You prefer to use a wooden paddle, because you can strike harder."

"Oh my, no," she replied. "Spanking with a bare hand is much more intimate. Besides, swatting with a hand leaves a lovely imprint on her behind."

Grinning, she removed the nipple tweezers. They had been on long enough to numb my tissues, and their removal brought those tissues back to life – screaming with pain. I merely gritted my teeth and did not cry out. The pain was expected, and tolerable.

But Jane was not finished. She brought over a flaming candle, and positioned its flame very strategically near each of my nipples in turn. Clamped as they were by the wooden device, my inflated breasts presented my nipples farther in front of me than usual. This allowed Jane to heat them mercilessly. Her skill was such that she never actually burned them. She did not even cause them to blister. I dared not move my torso in the slightest, because such a movement might have thrust a nipple directly into the flame. But the pain was excruciating, and I shared that pain with Jane by means of my wild vocalizations and pleadings. The pain got so intense that I lost control of my bladder. Piss erupted from me, drizzling hotly down my thighs, and pouring into the drain beneath me.

This satisfied Jane. She took away the flame, and asked me question number 12. "What color nail polish do I prefer?"

I prayed that her tastes had not changed recently. I offered my answer, "You prefer red nail polish," I believe.

"Yes, I certainly do," she said, much to my relief. Jane removed the wooden device clamped to my breasts, freeing them. She popped an ice cube into her mouth, and began pressing her pursed lips to my nipples. The coolness emanating from her mouth quickly soothed my burning pain. As the pain melted away, so did the ice. The sensations in my breasts gradually transformed from pain, through pleasantness, and into eroticism. Jane proved her mastery of breast stimulation, utilizing her mouth and her hands. She continued suckling and caressing me until, with a loud moan, I reached my peak. Again fluids cascaded from between my thighs, but this time it was my cum.

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