Pride verses Dignity

Description: Two rivals invent a nasty version of strip poker to publicly humiliate each other, and it works much better than either of them really wanted.

Short description: A publicly humiliating game of strip poker between rivals.

Author's note:

This is a smut story with very strong themes of reluctance, humiliation, bondage, and exhibitionism. If you don't want to read such a story, don't read this one. Other topics concern you, I've left a (non-comprehensive) list of tags and chapter summaries at the end of the story that you may want to check before reading. While I think this story doesn't have much that is offensive besides the reluctance, humiliation, bondage, and exhibitionism, I do not guarantee anything, so you read this at your own risk.

All characters are 18 or older. Any resemblance that any characters bear to real people is coincidental and entirely unintentional.

*****

--Prologue 1--

The funny thing about being on a high school fencing team is that fencing isn't really a team sport. Sure, we'd have inter-school meets where we each fenced against the opponents fencers and counted up our victories to see which high school won, but the real glory came from the individual tournaments, where it didn't matter which school you were from, only who you were and how well you fenced. I fenced quite well, if my tournament performance was to be believed. After all, fencing had been my life for almost four years now, ever since I first picked up an epee as a freshman.

Because I had been on my middle school's swimming team, I had been an athletic 14 year old, and, thanks to genes that were uncommon among my Indian ancestors, I was already tall. At 5'5", I was taller even than most of my male classmates at that age, so my reach advantage combined with my endurance from swimming made me a perfect candidate for epee fencing, which required more of each than saber or foil did. My structural advantages were where my talent ended, however. What had drawn me to fencing in the first place was the raw, confrontational energy provided by such a direct competition. I had been growing bored of swimming against the clock. Sure, beating my record was satisfying, and out-swimming my opponents at a swim meet was even more satisfying, but I had started to relish the thrill of destroying my family and friends in a game of monopoly, poker (with chips, of course), or hearts. I wanted a sport where I could watch my opponents watch me beat them, and I knew I could find that in fencing.

My excitement at such a direct competition shared a cause with my initial difficulties, however. While the need to read opponents and react was new and exciting to me, most of my classmates had participated in dry-land sports like soccer or softball by the time freshman year rolled around, and had already begun developing those skills. Therefore, despite already having the toned but nimble legs and butt, not to mention the reach, of an epee fencer, I found myself often dropping bouts to the girls who could simply read my movements. Still, my pride and my determination wouldn't let me give up this opportunity to crush my enemies and see them driven before me, so I stuck with it, practiced hard, and participated in out-of-school tournaments whenever I could. My hard work paid off, because by the beginning of my junior year, I was indisputably the best female epeeist in the school, and probably the best fencer altogether. It became a point of pride for me, and a central part of my identity. I was starting to be known around school as Miranda, the fencing girl.

Of course, I wasn't going to be known for anything else. My practice and tournament schedule meant that I didn't go to any parties or participate in any social events. I did play poker on Friday nights with a few of my middle school friends, but the games were canceling more and more often so the players could attend parties instead. The first few times they invited me along, but I always had a tournament in the morning, so I couldn't go. Eventually they knew the answer would be no, and instead of inviting me to a party, they just told me that our game was off, and that was that. That was the beginning of my descent into unpopularity. For the most part people just left me alone, but once in a while a boy would ask me out on a date, on a dare, no doubt. Apparently some people thought it would be funny to trick the too-tall girl with the small A-cup breasts and the unfeminine muscles into thinking someone could find her attractive. I always made a point to politely but firmly decline such offers, so as not to give my tormentors the satisfaction of witnessing my reaction. The plan seemed to be working, since the propositions came less frequently over the next two years.

--Prologue 2--

When I was 16, at the beginning of my junior year, I first encountered what I would soon consider the biggest threat to my pride and reputation as "the fencing girl". She introduced herself as Bailey. A transfer student from out of state, she had been a cheerleader at her old school, and she looked the part. She had long, straight, light brown hair and a slightly tanned skin that spoke of sun exposure I had rarely felt myself. Where I had started to develop muscle tone, she remained slim, probably to make it easier for her cheer squad to lift and toss her. Perhaps due to my self-consciousness, or perhaps just due to their magnitude, I immediately noticed her breasts. They had to be at least D cups, despite the fact that she and I were the same age. I also noticed when I shook her hand that I was looking her in the eye. I had reached 5'7" tall, so I was used to looking down at other girls, but she matched me inch for inch.

As in the affiliated middle school I had attended, students in our high school were required to participate in athletics, and since we didn't have a cheer squad, Bailey had decided to check out fencing. It was the third day of practice for us regular members, and the third day of athletic exploration for the new students, including the freshmen and Bailey. The fencing captain, Jennifer, a red-headed senior with all of the energy and passion of a saber bout packed into her tiny frame, had already demonstrated saber's intricacy and brutality to the new students while the rest of the team was doing our warm-ups and footwork drills. She had then handed them off to David, a short junior with both the athleticism and the charm of Franklin D Roosevelt, who demonstrated the finesse of fencing foil while the team was doing bladework drills. Finally, when the team suited up for practice bouts, it was my turn to demonstrate the sport that I was known for: epee.

After the first day of exploration, Jennifer had chewed me out for begin cold to the new students, so I feigned interest by asking them a bit about themselves. I learned that none of them had fenced before, but one had wrestled and hoped another martial sport would be similar, and one, like me, had swam competitively in middle school but, like I had been, was looking for something more interpersonal. Baily had been a cheerleader but thought it might be fun to "poke people with sticks". Was she even taking this seriously? Bailey was treating as a joke what had been the focus of my life for the past two years! I could not let that stand. So after a brief explanation of the rules ("hit them with the point before they hit you"), I asked Bailey to get into some spare fencing gear and "help" me with a demonstration. Perhaps I could teach her some respect while I taught the others about fencing. To my annoyance, I had to dig an extra large chest protector out of the equipment closet for Bailey while she pulled her knickers over her shorts, but when she was finally suited up, she rewarded me with an incorrect stance.

"Can any of you see what's wrong with Bailey's stance?" I asked my disciples for the day. A freshman, too short to be any good at epee, unfortunately, correctly suggested that she move her front foot further forward, but I stopped her. "That's right, Samuel, but if we really want to learn from our mistakes, we must understand why they are mistakes at all. Hold that incorrect stance, Bailey, so I can demonstrate." I was already wearing my gear, so I lined up across from Bailey and crouched into en-garde myself. I immediately lunged at her, and she, quite naturally, attempted to retreat. To my astonishment, she didn't fall, but her close stance did make her stumble, and the lesson was learned. I proceeded this way, picking apart every aspect of Bailey's fencing in front of our audience, but rather than being embarrassed, like I had hoped, instead Bailey was taking my lessons to heart and really learning from me. By the end of practice, I had to begrudgingly admit that she had made incredible progress for just one day.

Apparently Bailey wasn't enthralled with tennis or basketball over the last two days of athletic exploration, so at the start of the second week of our junior year, Bailey signed up for the fencing team. She had told Jennifer she wanted to fence epee, so I found myself once again digging out that extra large chest guard, this time for Bailey to store in her locker along with the rest of her loaned equipment. Over the next couple of months, Bailey picked up epee like it was nothing more complicated than learning to walk. She quickly surpassed the third seat, Camilla, and soon after that she surpassed the second seat, Rachel, although I didn't make any changes to our starting lineup. The worst part for me, though, was that she didn't seem like she was taking things seriously. She could never remember any more than the basic terminology, and despite her clear talent, she rarely went to individual tournaments. Instead, she, like my middle school friends, chose to spend her Friday nights partying and her Saturdays with friends or on dates.

--Prologue 3--

I finally snapped one day in March of our junior year when Bailey crushed Camilla in a practice bout 15 to 4.

"How could you let this happen, Camilla?! Are you dozing off under that mask? Why are you letting this ditsy bimbo keep beating you? Are you trying to tell me you want off the team? If you want out, just tell Jennifer, I'm sure she could let you slack off with the foilists."

Camilla just stared at me. In fact, the entire room was silent, as everyone had stopped to observe my outburst. Bailey, with her mask tucked under her weapon arm, wore a frown. She walked up to me and put an arm around my shoulder, just saying "Perhaps cooler heads will prevail tomorrow. Maybe you should call it a day, Miranda". I shrugged her off a bit too forcefully, knocking her over, and stormed out to the locker room. The next day Jennifer replaced me with Bailey as the head of the squad. I was still the superior fencer, however, so I remained first seat.

My superiority waned over the next month, as Baily did start taking fencing more seriously. As the new head of the squad, she felt it was her duty to be the best fencer she could be, and I soon started to see her beside me on the podium at individual tournaments. By the end of the year she had twice bumped me down to second place in the local club's weekly round robin. The first time she did she took me aside whispered to me "You'd better get used to losing, you stuck-up bitch!". I was shocked to hear this from the otherwise pleasant Bailey, but the same loathing for her still weighed on me, so I didn't let my surprise show. It had seemed that the flame of our rivalry had finally been ignited.

--Prologue 4--

Despite his shortcomings as a fencer, David was easily the most popular rising senior on the team, so he was elected captain by a landslide. Even I had voted for him, knowing I would never win myself, and I believe Bailey did as well. The fall semester continued where the spring had left off, although neither Bailey or I had stopped fencing over the summer, Bailey had spent her summer abroad, so we hadn't seen each other since final exams ended. Bailey continued her remarkable improvement, so by September, she and I were practically on parity. I have never trained as hard as I did during the fall semester of my senior year, but despite my efforts, I found myself losing to Bailey more and more often, until, by December, she was winning almost two tournaments for every one of mine. Still, we were both easily ranked high enough to be invited to the 18-20 year old year-end statewide invitational tournament. I had won the 16-17 year old tournament last year, but this bracket was a whole new ball game, and some of the older fencers were my role models in years past. I guess I had underestimated my efforts this last semester, though, because, despite some close calls, by the end of the day, when the crowd had gathered to watch the finals, I was still there, standing on the fencing strip. Across from me, of course, was Bailey.

That was a semester of Herculean efforts for me, and the state championships finals match was no exception. Still, despite my efforts, whenever I eked out a point, Bailey quickly matched it. If Bailey pulled ahead, I, too managed to even the score. I guess we knew each other too well to maintain any real advantage. We were tied at 12 each when I managed to sneak the tip of my epee past her guard and onto her wrist, bringing me back ahead. As I took off my mask to wipe the sweat from my brow, I glanced over to the clock. Only a fraction of a second remained. I had won without realizing it. I don't think Bailey had realized either, because as she took her place on the line and glanced over to the clock, her shoulders slumped. When the referee shouted for us to begin, Bailey charged, but we both knew it was no use. The timer went off long before she reached me, and I ripped off my mask in triumph. With the adrenaline of victory pumping through me, I shouted a simple challenge: "Any challenge, any stakes. You name it, and I will beat you!". I didn't think Bailey thought much of it, but after the medal ceremony, I learned otherwise.

She caught up to me after the ceremony, just as I was heading over to the locker room. She grabbed me by the shoulder and swiveled me around to face her. Quietly, but firmly, she told me "The challenge is poker, and the stakes are your dignity."

I was stunned. I hadn't expected her to respond to my challenge at all, let alone so soon. I stood there gaping at her while she waited for my response. When it didn't arrive, she spoke up again.

"Are you trying to back out of that challenge you issued in front of everyone? If you back out now, everyone will know. If we play strip poker, at least you can preserve some of your dignity. Although I suppose I wouldn't mind being able to tell everyone that you're all bark and no bite..."

Even on my day of triumph, I had lost this encounter. She had me trapped. Either I play strip poker with her, or nobody would take me seriously again. The worst that could happen to her is that she has to bare her beautiful, sexy, feminine body. When my bra came off, she would know for sure that I was only an A-cup. As my squad leader, she would probably make me wear a flat men's chest protector in practice.

Fortunately, the game she chose was poker, something I was quite familiar with, and quite good at. I figured I might as well hear her out. "I'm not about to start losing to you now" I barked at her. "What rules do you propose?"

A smirk crossed her face as she began her reply. "We'll play five card draw with chips. We start with 15 chips each, and we ante 2 chips each round. We bet before and after we draw. At the end of each round, whoever has fewer chips takes three from her opponent and removes an item of clothing. We'll start in our uniforms, minus gloves and weapons. The clothes we'll lose are, in order, mask, both shoes, both socks, jacket, chest guard, knickers, bra, then, finally, panties. The game ends when one of us is naked."

Clearly she had given this a lot of thought, and although having to get naked would mortify me, I had to admit that her rules couldn't be more conservative. That could be used to my advantage. I decided that the game started right now, and that I would open with a bluff. It seemed like Bailey was afraid too, so if I raised the stakes, she would back out, and leave me with my pride and dignity intact.

For my bluff to work properly, it needed to add two elements of risk to the game. First, we needed a witness. Being naked in front of me wasn't too different from getting dressed in the locker room. She was going to back out anyway, so I didn't have to worry about my suggestions actually happening. I just had to raise the stakes as much as possible. Second, since she was so beautiful, she would need to be risking something more than showing off her perfect body. Again, she was going to back out, so the scarier the better.

"With your cowardly rules, we're only at risk of being naked in front of each other. Let's play with real stakes. The game doesn't end when one of us is naked. Instead, if one of us would have to strip but doesn't have any more clothes, that person has to do a dare suggested by the other person. Which brings me to my other problem with your lame rules: I don't care about seeing you naked. Let's let David officiate. He can watch you strip, and he can make sure the dares are fair. How about that?"

I was beginning to suspect my plan had worked. Her usually calm demeanor was slipping, but I guess she wanted to humiliate me more than I thought. At that moment David was walking over to congratulate us, but Bailey spoke first.

"David! Would you do us a favor? Remember Miranda's challenge at the finals? Well we're going to play strip poker, and we need someone to watch and make sure the dares are fair. Whadda you say?"

I was shocked, but David seemed to think she was joking. A smile and a chuckle bloomed on his face and he replied with a quick "Yeah, sure thing Bailey. Right after I get back from herding my flying pigs."

"I'm serious, David."

The look on her face told him the same truth her words did. Indeed, she was serious.

"Whoa," he replied. "I'd be crazy to say no, but then again, I'd be crazy to say yes. It's suicide to get between you two when you're feuding." As nauseous as I was, I enjoyed being told I was dangerous. "What authority can I put behind my rulings? I can't punish you at practice. The only way to punish you is to not let you fence, and the team needs you too badly."

"How about you get to take photos? Whenever one of us strips, you can take a picture of her. Then, if one of us backs out of a fair dare, or doesn't do a good enough job, you can post a photo online. And, to make sure nobody can ever doubt it's her, she has to hold her driver's license up to her face. That should ensure nobody welshes on any dares."

David must have thought the same thing that I did: this was insane. Still, it wasn't him that had to speak up, it was me. So I weighed my options. On the one hand, I couldn't lose this. That would be a disaster, obviously. But on the other hand, I still couldn't back down. Not after challenging Bailey in public like I had. The only option left to me was to win. I firmly reminded myself that I am good at poker, and it would be Bailey completely humiliated by the end of the game. Then I solemnly nodded my assent.

Gulping, David finally spoke. "Well, I guess you guys have it all figured out. May I make one suggestion, though? I'm a pretty terrible photographer, and honestly, I'd rather keep my attention on the game. How about I invite my friend Andrew in to take the photos? He's head of the photography club and can take some of the best photos I've seen. Plus, his cameras are top of the line. High resolution, clear shots in any lighting."

By this point we were already in so deep that there was nothing to do but agree. David called Andrew, and we all agreed we would meet the next day, a Sunday, at Andrew's family's apartment in the city, at 10am.