Checkmate Ch. 01

This is part of a long story which is mostly already written. The series will contain BDSM, humiliation and high stakes.

This story was written in collaboration with my friend J - thanks!

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PROLOGUE

At the prestigious Notre Dame d'Excellence, a simmering rivalry is soon to turn to flourishing anger, with dire consequences for all involved. All may be fair in love and war, but the world of chess has its own rules.

Each member of the group gathered around the coach is one of the wealthiest of the University's students. Each of the seven is fuming.

Sara Ocuk, the half-Turkish philosophy undergrad, is venting about the previous afternoon, when she and her flatmate Roxanna had tried to practice in earnest at the clubhouse. They had been interrupted yet again by the shrieks of "Your queen is mine, bitch!" followed by shrieks of laughter from that common slut Sofia. The resulting noise ruined the match for both of them and they retreated to their apartment to continue the game in irritable silence.

"It's always been our clubhouse! My father's team picture is on the wall! Why do we have to cram in with all those assholes? We've asked them to keep their voices down, but nothing helps. I can't practice; I can't think! Why did we accept everyone this year, Doc?" Cherry Ryan raises her voice in frustration after Sara finishes her rant. "Can't we do anything?"

Dr Thomas Jameson nods his head slowly. "I know, Cherry. I miss the days when we didn't have the whole world in here shouting every time they take a fucking pawn. It was always a place of quiet and focus and we didn't have to let just anyone in. These last three months have been intolerable."

"So can't we do something, coach? There must be a way against this 'non-exclusivity' policy," asks Veronica from the back of the group. The other six shuffle to the sides, allowing their captain to pass to the front. Doc meets her gaze and nods slowly.

"There's a precedent. It's been a long time since it was enacted..." he sighs, "but it could help us here.

"In the previous century, 'turf wars,' as I believe you call them, were settled through duels. Over time, the University realised that losing students to stab wounds tended to reflect poorly upon institutions of higher learning. The rules had to change. Instead of sending a champion to fight for each group, the new system forced every member of the group to duel with an opponent.

"However, the definition of 'duel' is subjective, and soon we saw rock-paper-scissors matches and contests of wit replace their deadlier predecessors. Fewer student deaths meant good news for the faculty, and turf wars were settled on less dangerous terms."

"Have you ever seen a war in this club, Sir?" James Kinney eagerly asks, sweeping his blonde mane out of his eyes.

"Once," the coach reminisced. "Twenty-odd years ago. I'd worked my way up the ranks of the club and was about to become captain. Some rapscallions had decided to disrupt our peace by feigning interest in the club, but really coming to eat everything and leave the club a mess. So we challenged them to a series of chess matches. The losing team was to leave the club...after some forfeits were paid."

"Did you win, Sir?" Sara's attention has been captured. "And what about the forfeits?"

The English lecturer gives her a wry smile and says, "That year we had the strongest team I've ever seen, and we annihilated those fuckers. Let's just say they had a very unpleasant set of punishments coming. And now, that's enough of that story. Your thoughts?"

"We could..."

"What if we did..."

"Let's challenge them!"

Sara, James and Cherry burst out at the same time.

Doc grins, hauling out a heavy book from beneath his desk. "Let's talk about the rules..."

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THE SETUP

The next evening, the same club members reassemble in the clubhouse to meet Doc. Throughout the day, every member of the club, the longstanding and the newcomers, has been alerted to the meeting tonight.

The seven rich students who had met with Doc the previous day have been there for half an hour, asserting their claim to the clubhouse. Taking the most comfortable chairs and arranging them around the couch, the team members flank Veronica on either side, their leader claiming the seat of her choice before they take theirs. All in their official chess team blazers, black with silver insignia, with black trousers or above-knee skirts, they are a formidable sight.

A cacophony of voices precedes the arrival of the would-be new members. "No fucking style," Cherry says loudly, which is met with derisive laughter from her teammates. However, the newcomers walk in unworried. They have never been met with anything less than scorn here; they won't let it bother them now.

Sofia Karleva, the blonde from Estonia with the slim figure, the top student in creative writing this past year, leads the group. At 22, she is one of the youngest of the group, second only to virginal Becky, but her natural confidence and serious demeanour have quickly established her as their leader. She refuses to let the show of dominance from the other team cow her. Her blue and white dress grazes her ankles as she walks, and dips deep into her firm perky cleavage. She chooses her seat and her teammates fall into place behind her.

All through last night, Sofia has sat up with her team discussing the proposed terms of the bet. The group chat has kept everyone busy all night, with fourteen members discussing the forthcoming challenge. If anyone had thought this would be a simple bet over the ownership of the clubhouse alone, their view was soon rectified by the harsh terms proposed by Veronica's team. Although the words contained in the texts last night seemed shocking to some, stories of the depravity ingrained in the chess club have spread all through the dormitories and food halls, whispered in the dark at night or hastily spoken of in the bright daylight. After hearing of the norms of the club, not one of the challengers is genuinely surprised to see the terms of the bet take a sexual turn.

This is not a small bar bet, to be taken lightly. The teams agree that the consequences of the bet should be severe and humiliating. No more drawn-out arguments over the occupancy of the clubhouse, and no more underhanded attacks between the teams. No more threatening notes slipped under doors and no ungracious shouting when rivals pass in the hallways. This will be the culmination of months of burgeoning resentment.

The rival teams decide that their fates will be decided through a series of chess matches, each pitting one member of each team against the other, until each of the seven players on each side has played once. Dr Jameson, accepted by both teams as referee, reminds the students that they are bound by honour to follow through with the consequences.

The teams play for high stakes; the seven losers will submit to the seven winners as their sexual slaves for the two weeks following the bet. And, of course, the losing team will never set foot in the clubhouse again. The only caveats to their subservience would be the banning of any activities which threaten the health, career or criminal record of any player. Any permanent marks are also banned, and the group members readily agree that no family involvement would be tolerated.

"There will be no mention of this competition to anyone outside this group. You all know that while duels for control of a club are a time-honoured tradition at this institution, these other consequences are against the university's code. If anyone not involved were to hear about the terms of the bet, you could all end up expelled." He lets the words sink in, omitting his guilty thought that he could just as easily be fired. The students all seem to be appreciating the gravity of the situation.

"You do realise that you're going to lose," Veronica breaks the silence with a wicked smile, "and that you will get your asses fucked?" Rotund, confident Veronica, always the first to speak, looks down her pierced nose at the other team, her so-called inferiors.

Cherry chips in merrily with, "Your cock's getting tied up, John, while James fucks your girl!" The small half-Chinese divorcée, excited at the thought of seeing the other team stripped and humiliated, wants to hurry the game along, and lashes out at the nearest opponent. She hasn't a clue if John even has a girl, but her excitement overtakes her sensible thoughts.

Jane, beautiful, black-haired, pale Jane with the soft voice and the twinkling eyes, giggles as she adds, "I think you gang of sluts will get a cum overdose!" She catches the eye of the geeky boy standing with the other group and gives him a lascivious wink, from which he quickly looks away.

"We'll decide the matches at random," announces Sofia, the first to speak up for the poorer team. "I'll bring the straws. The team winning the higher number of games wins."

"What about a tie?" murmurs Alfred in Sofia's ear. Always the soft-spoken one, Alfred pushes his glasses back up his nose and looks back down at the ground.

"If there's a tie we'll play another match, winner takes it all," Doc says before Sofia has a chance to answer. "Each team draws straws to see who plays the last match."

"But don't worry about that. We're going to beat you long before there's anything like a draw to think about," Veronica interjects. "And we're taking pictures of you lot the moment you lose. Just so you don't think of backing out...call it insurance."

Murmurs of assent fill the room. The teams confer, and then Veronica and Sofia, the seemingly elected leaders, shake hands.

"Until tomorrow, sluts!" Veronica sings over her shoulder as she sweeps her team out of the clubhouse.

--

A SIDE BET

The next day, well before the appointed hour of the match, the toffs all gather in Sara's spacious living room. Having wealthy parents who indulge her every whim has its perks; this even extends into her third consecutive first year in Philosophy.

Roxanna, lying on the day bed in a pair of tiny gym shorts and a sports bra, despite a workout not featuring in her plans that day, breaks out of her reverie and interrupts the guys' incessant chatter. "How about another bet on the side? Just in case those losers aren't as much fun to torment as we think."

"The first person to lose gets a paddling!" Jane is suddenly eager. Six years in a laboratory have quickened her mind and added greatly to her qualifications, but the long hours have done her dating life no favours. The only action she's seen in the last four years has always taken place in the chess clubhouse. With these clamorous newcomers, those occasions have also dwindled, the privacy of their clubhouse having been violated. Soon, Jane hopes, the team's peaceful perverse proclivities can carry on in private.

"Pussy! The first person to let us down by losing will strip nude and be paddled by everyone else," Veronica laughs out. "Then they can stick this up their ass!" She pulls a large purple dildo out of her handbag, to the amusement of the others.

"I'm starting to see your mean streak again, V," says James with a grin. It's been a while since the skinny math student has seen any part of a girl undressed, and he likes the idea of seeing a naked one under his friend's cruel thumb.

Veronica brushes a strand of hair from her face to hide her reddening cheeks. "You think it's too much?"

"After your birthday last year? No girl, I think we can do better," says James. "I think the traitor should be punished with a cock down her throat." The idea of a guy losing has clearly not crossed James's mind.

"Fuck it," Roxanna chimes in, her eyes betraying her arousal. "Let that fucker walk naked into town and be our little errand bitch." Despite her 'modelling' career and striking beauty, she has hit a dry spell, and it seems she is easily turned on...very easily. She rolls over, crossing her long legs and twirling her hands through her thick curls.

Sara raises an eyebrow - her flatmate never uses salty language except in the height of emotion. The only time Sara has heard the Czech beauty swear this much was the time the two of them had shared a bottle of whiskey, a lot of deep secrets, and, after much giggling, several orgasms.

"That'll land someone in jail," Sara cuts in. "How about a week of nudity instead? Anytime the loser's inside one of our homes?"

"And the clubhouse," Roxanna adds, a little calmer now that her more practical flatmate has made her focus on reality again. They can always let their fantasies take over again later, in the darkness and privacy of their home in the night.

"Good point," Veronica says. "The clubhouse will be ours again after we kick those fuckers out. May as well have a naked mascot running around...let's make it two weeks. And any time the loser's around one of us or in one of our homes, naked it is."

The mood in the group shifts as everyone contemplates the possibility of being naked in the clubhouse, at the mercy of the group. It won't be the first such occurrence, not at all, but two weeks is significantly longer than any of them anticipated. The last few unfortunates only had to suffer and submit for three days at most. A few eyes glance back at the purple dildo, memories of Veronica's birthday still fresh in their minds.

"Hopefully no-one will get their ass paddled today!" giggles Veronica. "See it as motivation." Veronica can relax, and the entire team knows it. The University's reigning chess champion of the past three years is justified in her self-assuredness. Her self-confidence, however, is more likely due to her innate sadistic nature.

There are some sheepish faces as the toffs agree. They are all too familiar with the types of 'motivation' their captain prefers for her underlings.Unpleasant though her sense of discipline may be, they would all admit that since she has taken a more active role in the team's training, their ranking has risen higher and higher. They can only hope the other team is on the other end of her vicious sense of humour this time.

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