tagNonConsent/ReluctanceThe Game Ch. 08

The Game Ch. 08

bySara and Ron©

Forward to the Reader and Fans of The Game:

First let me apologize to those readers who were disappointed enough in the cliffhanger ending of the last chapter to send me such colorful emails! I take it as a compliment. And yes I am here on some levels to tease you.

However there are also those that request me to post frequently even if the work is not complete. On a particularly long chapter I try to do this.

I am touched that I was able to illicit such an emotional response with my words, and as an author it is tremendously flattering to have people emotionally attached to the characters.

To that insightful reader who has noticed that this series has drifted further and further from The Game to more of a character exploration of Sara and Rachel I say "Bravo" for noticing and being kind enough to share your thoughts without criticism.

I am aware of the tangent I am on, but this story has taken on a life of its own. I would never have ever thought it possible for me to consider writing the volumes that I have posted to date, and it is overwhelmingly daunting to not see an end in sight.

As I think of the next few chapters that I can imagine (and as I have become more comfortable sharing myself with you, the reader) I needed to share with you who Rachel is, and how she became who she is.

I tried to write her into the story without background, but without context she felt hollow and imaginary. She is definitely neither, so I have dutifully deleted that chapter off my hard drive and banished it to wherever ideas go to die.

But fear not loyal reader (I think there are at least two of you), we will return to Ron's and Sara's game soon enough. It really is the focus of the story, but for now take the time to get to know Rachel. She really is a wonderful person, and we should all strive to be more like her.

And for those of you who hate cliff hanger endings, I suggest you wait until Chapter 9 is posted to read Chapter 8.

Fair warning so stop your bitching!

Just kidding! Bitch all you want. I thrive on feedback.


Chapter 8: X2

The staircase spiraled once in its thirty foot ascent over the throng that danced below. I could smell the sweat and heat of the crowd that seemed to drive my sexual frenzy. I watched the ebb and flow of the crowd that was like a stormy sea from this height. No longer a group of individuals, but a pulsing living organism of its own, made up of hundreds of people moving in rhythm to the music. I licked my lips. My mouth was as dry as cotton, but I felt the energy of the crowd below me and my own burning lust as I followed Rachel up and up.

At the top stood a single framed steel door painted black. Chad stood talking to another man who was not dressed up for show. He wore jeans and a t-shirt with an over jacket that hung slightly to one side. Perhaps it was the booze or the drugs (there was really no doubt that I had been given some drugs), but I didn't notice the shoulder holster and handgun hanging below his right arm pit. In retrospect, I wondered if I would have even cared in my current state. I was living in the moment as they say, and at the moment I was nothing but horny. Rachel seemed in a similar state.

After a few seconds of discussion, the man at the door shook his head and opened the door. Chad handed the man a five dollar bill and was oblivious to the roll of the man's eyes. Chad and then Rachel disappeared through the door into the waiting darkness. I followed eagerly and the last of my internal alarm bells were ignored.

Sweat was the first thing I noticed. I smelled sweat as soon as I walked through the door. Not old gross sweat, but fresh 'in the middle of fucking' sweat. The smell made me tingle with desire.

I found myself in a long hallway with light glimmering at the other end. I could hardly see anything and as soon as the door shut behind me, all sound from the club was gone. I felt my boy toy's hand on my ass and it felt comforting. A chill went up my back as I paced a foot behind Rachel and Chad.

Rachel was leaning into Chad, and he was rubbing her ass as he walked and supported her. His other hand must have been fondling her erect nipples as I heard her whimper with desire. The sound made my own pussy burn and ache for attention. My mind was an X-rated movie with me as the star. Mouth, pussies and cocks were all around me in my mind. This is what I craved and so intensely that I felt that without satisfaction I may die from my own desire.

The hallway opened up into a room and my first sight was an attractive 20 something black woman. She was naked and bent over the back of a lounge chair. Her breasts were small and her nipples stood on end. Behind her a white man was thrusting himself into her, hard and fast. She was moaning her pleasure and took no notice of us although she must have seen us.

I was mesmerized and could not take my eyes off her. The blond man behind me unzipped my skirt and I let it fall to the floor. I was biting my bottom lip as the man reached his climax and withdrew himself from the woman. She whimpered in frustration as the man jerked himself to orgasm on her back. A thick spray of white semen erupted from the man and painted wet striped across the woman's backside. I shivered in mini-orgasm at the sight of them.

I felt like we were the next item up for bids in the price is right and I couldn't wait.

I turned to Rachel. She was pressed against the wall with Chad kissing her madly and pawing at her. She was naked except for her socks and I grinned at the image. I also lusted. She wrapped her naked, sock clad legs around Chad as he pinned her against the wall and grinded herself against him.

Chad slid her into the light of the room but continued to dry fuck her against the wall. Her shirt and skirt lay in a heap. The socks she wore were amazingly erotic wrapped around Chad's body.

I felt my underwear slide down my legs and nimble fingers massage my clit. I closed my eyes in the bliss of it. I was then led to the wall next to Rachel and pressed against it. I had somehow lost my socks, but still retained my blouse. Blond guy pressed up against me and our mouths met hungrily. His cock pressed against me through the thin fabric of his pants. I thrust my cunt hard against his cock. I wanted it inside of me more than anything in the world.

My hands were pushed above my head and my left made contact with Rachel's right. We held hands while Blond guy licked my swollen nipples.

I heard Rachel grunt as Chad pushed himself into her. She squeezed my hand telling me she was full of his cock.

His pants bunched around his ankles, as Rachel was pinned next to me against the wall. I watched him fuck her. Her pussy slick and wet with her excitement, and Chad's cock pushing into her and then sliding out pulling her lips slightly with friction as he did Then he would plunge deep into her and she would groan with desire. I could smell her and almost taste her excitement.

Blond guy pushed into me a second later and deep. My slick cunt opened wide and took him in one deep thrust of his ass. I pulled him tightly against me with my right hand still grasping Rachel's with my left. I thrust hard against him trying to push back to gain a deeper penetration. I wanted him to fuck me in half. I wanted him so bad. It felt so wonderful, but I did not cum which surprised me. I was sure I would cum like a geyser at the lightest touch, but I did not.

I could feel the desire building and building, but I could not crest. I fucked him harder and felt him speeding in his urgent thrusts.

I begged him not to cum. "Please make me cum. Don't cum yet." I cried as I felt him building inside me. I wanted so badly but could not cum. Oh God he was close and I was so close but yet not there. What was happening?

"Fuck me." I screamed.

"Yeah fuck her!" an unexpected reply came.

I looked over his shoulder to see a small group of men watching us with drinks in hand. Not 20 somethings from the club, but men. Some of them were in there 30s, but many were older yet. They glared lecherously at me and I wondered what I looked like in their eyes. What was I to them?

I wondered briefly who they were but was too lost in the sex to care.

Rachel was urgently rocking her hips as if trying to push herself toward orgasm. I was doing the same against blond guy's cock. He was nothing but a masturbation toy for me at this point. There was no intimacy here. No feelings. He was just a cock to fuck, and a tool to make me cum. I fucked him hard pushing myself harder to cum, but yet I could not climb over the top of the erotic peak to the wonderful orgasmic release I sought. I fucked harder.

Chad came first grunting into Rachel and emptying himself in her. She cried out her frustration, and I once again thought of the black woman who was now no where in sight.

Blond guy came a second later inside of me, and I could feel his hot seed filling my molten but unsatisfied pussy. "Fuck you came." I uttered as I was being lowered to my feet.

Laughter erupted behind me and I once again noticed the men. Blond guy flushed with embarrassment and for a second I saw anger flash in his eyes. I was sure he would hit me, but instead he shrugged and turned away from me and left.

Chad was zipping up his pants smiling. "You are quite a fuck Rach." He said smugly. "So glad you stopped by."

Then he too turned to leave. I was horny and confused, but somewhere in the back of my brain I was also starting to sober up. My alarm bells were back. We needed to get the fuck out of here.

Rachel was masturbating openly trying to get herself off. She was focused on nothing but Cumming.

I almost dropped my own hand to my cunt. But then a part of my mind seemed to wake up. This was insane. What are we doing? I grabbed Rachel by the shoulder and pulled her to a standing position.

I picked up my skirt and threw Rachel hers. "Get Dressed." I said as I surveyed our surroundings without the complete blindfold of lust.

We were in a room that was approximately 30 feet long and an unknowable depth. At the end of the room we occupied was what appeared to be a living room type area. There were televisions and lounge chairs and a bar at one end. The other end was dark, but I could see shadows and shapes. I sensed this was a secret place and danger lurked for those bold enough to discover them.

Shadows of people moved in the darkness and I was surprised that I had not noticed them before. Quiet murmurs reached my ears and I felt very naked and vulnerable although I was more dressed than I had been seconds earlier.

Rachel seemed to be coming around, but more slowly.

A feeling of dread came over me. I took Rachel by the hand and pulled her hurriedly back down the long hall. I pushed open the black door into the club and almost knocked over the man who let us in.

"Easy Ladies." He said grabbing both of our arms.

"Let go of me fucker." I snarled.

His face went hard and cold so fast it was like watching a Dr. Jekyll transformation. His eyes were like cold blue furnaces. His lips became a thin white line.

"Just a second I think." He said calmly while gripping my arm to the edge of pain. Something in his eyes did not allow for discussion.

He tapped something on his belt and spoke into an earpiece/microphone set that I hadn't noticed before. "Two on the run. I need a decision." He said to God knows who.

"Yes Sir. Chad brought them in." he spoke and then paused.

"No sir. Never before." Another pause stretched out for what felt like hours.

"Yes sir." He spoke finally.

The man turned to us and smiled. Once again he was a friendly doorman. My stomach knotted.

"You ladies have a nice night. If you need a ride home, you can ask Maurice at the front door." And then he released us.

For a second or two I couldn't move. But then I found I could. I turned and began to pull Rachel down the spiral stairs. Before we descended three of them the door man called after us, "And ladies, I suggest that you not come back here and just forget anything that may or may not have happened on the other side of that door." There was no trace of humor in his cold voice.

His voice trailed off as we descended. At the bottom, I pushed through the crowd with Rachel in tow. I did not head toward the front door, but rather an emergency exit at the back that I had noticed earlier.

Fuck Maurice and his ride. I was getting out of here right fucking now.

I hit the door with the force of my weight and it swung open hard banging against the brick alley wall. I stepped into the relative quiet and clean air of the Chicago night and ran pulling Rachel behind me. I felt anything but clean, but it was better than being in that place. The smells of sex and sweat of that place no longer aroused me. My stomach rolled and my body threatened to empty my stomach onto the asphalt of the alley. A homeless man smiled a toothless grin at us and he glared at us with empty hollow eyes.

I put my nausea out of my mind. If I puked I would do it while running. I ran as fast as I could down the alley, all the while pulling Rachel who seemed disoriented and confused. At the end, I was out of breath, and was slowing down. But then I pictured Mr. Doorman in my mind and thought of him changing his mind (or whomever he called Sir) about letting us go. I pictured those cold blue eyes and found I could run again after all.

We hailed a cab two blocks north of Division Street and I gave the driver my address. Only then did I relax a little. Rachel was stunned and frightened. I looked at her and saw not the confident woman she was, but the scarred child she might become. I hugged her tightly and she quivered against me. A block into the cab ride she began to cry. Her tears were a relief. Anyone who could cry was not broken beyond repair.

I pulled her to me and let her have her tears. The cab driver watched us in the rear view mirror. I saw both pity and contempt in those eyes.

"Just fucking drive." I spat at him, and he looked away as if to say, 'whatever lady'.

And then I felt something I had never felt before: cold fury.

I felt my own eyes harden in their sockets and I imagined lashing out at the cab driver. It was irrational, but it was there. I could kill him right now, not because he had done anything wrong, but because I was so fucking angry.

As I held Rachel sobbing into my chest, my fury built into a rage the way a match flame left unattended might grow into a forest fire. My rage built with each tear that wetted my blouse. Each sob was like an oil tanker of fuel for the fire of my rage. It built until it felt like a nuclear detonation inside of me. Rolling flames of rage rolled into a tempest deep in my heart, but also a coldness that numbed my soul. That coldness seemed to numb my feelings and deadened my humanity and somewhere I knew it. But it also was a comforting coldness, and I embraced it willingly even if it meant damnation.

The coldness was hate. Hate for what had just happened. Hate for the fact we were used. Hate for the laughter as we were fucked. Although it was technically date rape, I was also a willing participant, and I hated that part of myself that let my sexual desire drive reason from me. But most of all my hate was for Chad. He was the engineer of our evening, and I swore that I would bring the vengeance of my rage to him.

That mother fucker was going to pay for tonight as God as my witness.

* * * * * * * *

When we arrived at my apartment Rachel had stopped crying although red streaks of her tears lined her face. Her eyes were puffy and while she was still pretty, a part of her radiant beauty had died this night. I wondered if it would return in time. Maybe, but probably not the same way it shined before. That also made me angry.

She looked at me and tried to smile. "Are you okay?" she asked.

I looked at her dumbfounded. Okay was something I definitely was not.

She must have sensed the depth of my rage.

"I mean are you hurt?", she rephrased.

I relaxed. This was not Rachel's fault I reminded myself. Perhaps I should have known better. Definitely should have known better, but I didn't anticipate Chad being more than just a self centered fuck.

I would not have thought he had the balls to drug us. I had misjudged him. Rachel was not the first young woman in the city to be blinded by the good looks and power, but I had been there. There is a saying: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. This was Rachel's once and my twice. FUCK!

"I'm not hurt Rachel." I said soothingly. "What about you?"

"Not hurt." She assured me. "But…" she stammered. Tears welled in her eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry." And then the flood gates of her humiliation and frustration hit her and she sobbed. Her words broken into a flood of incoherent babbling as the tears flowed with renewed vigor. I pulled her to me and stroked her hair as I soothed her.

"It's not your fault Rachel."

We stood like this for almost 10 minutes in my living room until her tears and sobs subsided. Finally she spoke again.

"I feel like such an idiot."

I smiled at her and said, "Well you probably deserve that feeling, but cut yourself a little slack. He was hot."

She laughed a horse wet laugh able to find perhaps the only shred of humor in an otherwise unfunny situation.

"I need to shower." She said as we parted. "I feel gross."

I could relate to that feeling. I led her to the bathroom and helped her strip out of her clothes. She stepped into a steaming shower and I collected her clothes and took them to the trash can in the kitchen. I stripped out of my clothes where they joined Rachel's. I could never again even look at them let alone wear them.

I returned to the bathroom and Rachel and I traded places. As the hot water cascaded over me, I let the cleansing water clean my body. I tried also to let the feeling of cleanliness wash the stain from my mind and heart. That spot seemed much tougher to clean away than physical remnants of the night.

After the shower, Rachel and I retired to the living room. It was just after midnight and on any other non-work night, the night would be young.

I poured two snifters of brandy and joined her on the couch. Neither of us spoke as we sipped our drinks. We both knew we should talk. In fact we had to talk about this. If we didn't, by morning the event would have changed in our minds eye to something different than it was now, and we would never be able to move past it.

I didn't know if we could anyway, but there was a rapidly closing window on how we felt about the night's events. At this moment Rachel and I were still connected to each other in the hell that was this night. Should we sleep, that thread would be broken and the memory of tonight would be filed away in our own 'personal hell' file of our psyche. It would be like a cancer that slowly ate away at our relationship and perhaps more. Every time we saw each other in the future, part of us would be reminded of the feeling of humiliation and regret of tonight.

The only hope for salvation of our relationship was to talk about it. To not file it away, but acknowledge it. To strengthen that bond between us so that it was a shared hell so it would not rekindle embarrassment or humiliation at the mere sight of each other.

The silence between us now was pregnant with both hope and doubt. The air itself felt ready to burst. I wondered if I should break the uncomfortable silence, but instinct told me that to do so would be damaging beyond words. So I sipped, and waited.

Rachel looked at me over the rim of her glass. She was not drinking, but smelling the strong liquor inside. She did not smile at all.

For a minute I thought she would just get up and go to bed. I am sure she considered doing just that and the thought filled me with dread. But then I saw a steely resignation come across her eyes with the faintest sigh.

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