The Dinner Game (Of Most Clueless)

### Copyright © 2023. This is a copyrighted work. Unauthorized use is prohibited. All rights reserved by the author.

BEWARE: some characters wear chastity cages, handcuffs, and leashes. If the chastity cage doesn't intrigue you, I suggest you DO NOT READ this narrative: don't waste your precious time with an unbearable thing.

Sometimes (like today) my narration proceeds slowly, describing details of clothes, watches, and gloves, and if you're just looking for a few dirty lines to have a quick wank, perhaps this is not the text for you: there are other texts much more focused on the detailed graphic description of orgasm and proper penetrative activities.

This is my contribution to the Midnight at the Lost & Found Author Challenge. Please notice that everything is completely unreal and a figment of the imagination, like the Wonderland visited by Alice. Do not try to imitate them at home: they are all professional actors acting, for the most dangerous scenes replaced by skilled stuntmen with specific training.

All the characters are over 21 years old.

English is not my mother tongue, please focus on the plot and forget my mistakes.####.

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Chapter 1: Dress code for the Mad Hatter Tea Party.

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I was almost naked in that taxi. My penis was restrained by the firm grip of a locked cage of metal bars: a prison but also a protection.

The testicles hung exposed under the large ring that supported the device, with just a belt: and to my shame, the balls were resting naked on the leather of the taxi seat.

I felt almost like the character played by Corinne Cléry at the beginning of the movie "Histoire d'O" (1975).

Ok: I am a virgin boy, I may look clueless, but I am not ignorant. I have read many books and seen many films (too many, maybe). Yet, I have never kissed a girl, or any woman except my grandmother on the cheek.

I was almost naked, a humiliating condition made even more ridiculous by two accessories Ursula had imposed on me.

Ursula, to get this straight, is not my Girlfriend. Ursula is just a girl who studies with me. For some reason, there is a singular alchemy between us that helps us memorize the subjects we study. But we have nothing in common. We live in the same rented flat, and we share the same coffee machine. Nothing else.

She brings home someone different every night, males, females, couples, and spends the night moaning and screaming between orgasms with perfectly unknown people.

I am still a virgin and although I may masturbate more often and more intensely than the national average... at least I don't make as much noise.

One evening Ursula was getting ready with two other adult friends to go to a famous club whose name I didn't catch: the "Lost and Found". They said that if they were provocative enough, they would turn on a bunch of drunken men in their 40s and 45s, who were trying to get aroused by the spectacle of a certain Mistress Grace (never heard of her) unbeknownst to their desperate and frustrated housewives.

The three friends for fun decided to make a bet. The winner would be whichever of the three would bring the most naive, virginal, and reluctant person possible to the last night's party: keeping him or her inside the club as long as possible, despite the perversions that would take place there.

The others would bring experienced submissives, willing slaves, or masochists of repute. The three of them, on the other hand, would lead the least predictable people ever.

The scheme traced a late 20th-century French comedy: "Le Dîner de Cons" literally "The Dinner of Fools... or Clueless". A group of French businessmen invited the most foolish and deluded person possible to dinner and then laughed at his mediocrity.

In addition, the three friends predicted that the unfortunate would run away immediately: therefore, if a virgin did not last at least three hours inside the club, the girl who had brought him would lose the bet. "Clueless Game! A bit like Cluedo, but without clues, and clothes, ha, ha!"

They decided to each bring a bespectacled virgin who had never had sex with a partner. All prudishly educated, all very nerdy, maybe all highly experienced in solitary masturbation, but completely lacking in experience.

One of the three was me. Oh, don't make that face, dear Reader! You too, at some stage in your life, were considered a virgin! I, modestly, was still a virgin at 21 years and seven months. Everyone knows that girls' sex lives start much earlier... and often with more mature boys.

The three girls laughed obscenely and loudly challenged each other to bring the most naive and virginal person possible to the next Thematic Event. Then they started talking under their breath and plotting against me. Suddenly, I looked up and found them in front of me, already "dressed to kill", with pump fuck-me heels, micro skirts less wide than a belt, and their tits completely exposed by cupless balconette bras, only partly hidden by unbuttoned, semi-transparent blouses.

Ursula looked down at me defiantly.

"Hey, loser, I bet you wouldn't have the guts to stay chaste in a club where an orgy is taking place."

I had always told her that I was a virgin by my own choice: because I wanted to give my virginity to my wife. You may call me stupid, or delusional.

Ursula often called me INCEL, because she assumed my celibate status was involuntary. But I knew that I had rejected proposals (serious, not joking) from girls who sincerely did not interest me. I was celibate because I wanted to be. Oh... yes, I know there are fee-based options... but I have decided that I don't want to pay.

I immediately replied. "I accept any bet, as long as it does not involve alcohol on my part, nor drugs, nor permanent bruises or tattoos. Nothing permanent. And no expenses for me. I will resist any temptation."

"Oh, don't worry, you Sandra Dee! I'm inviting you to next week. A tea with dry biscuits, in an elegant salon. There will be a dress code, inspired by Carroll's Mad Hatter tea, of course, but I'll provide all the necessary, you don't have to spend anything, you greedy as you are." Ursula always mocked me, saying I was stingy with both my money and my sperm, like Scrooge.

"A tea I may accept."

"And you will wear what I give you to wear, and you will stand by me as long as I want you to, and I reiterate that I am not your girlfriend: deal?"

"Deal."

The friends burst out laughing as if I had made a gigantic mistake.

They handed me a card, finely printed on a crimson card, with gold ink and an elegant cursive font.

The instructions were crystal clear: they stuck with me, and I still remember them almost verbatim.

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You are cordially invited to the

Mad Hatters Tea Party,

an evening of adult fun and frivolity to be held at the Lost and Found from eight-thirty p.m. until late. Fancy dress on the theme of Alice in Wonderland is optional, as is dress in general. Open access to all playrooms will be provided, but we request you abide by our Bring Your Device policy on grounds of health and safety.

To mitigate against misunderstandings and facilitate an enjoyable night for all, please take note of the wristband policy:

Red indicates you do not wish to be approached and are engaged in private play

Amber indicates you are open to play opportunities, as permitted by your owner/master/mistress/lady/lord/deity

Green indicates that you are open to free use, within the parameters of consent

Blues are monitors and members of staff. Please respect the instructions they may give

May we respectfully remind all guests to ensure that their significant other(s) are labelled appropriately, as per the above guidelines, to avoid confusion.

We regret that this will be the final event at the Lost and Found, which will be closing down upon the conclusion of the evening after nearly twenty years of service to the community. We strongly encourage you to review the new legislation and how it may curtail or prohibit your particular lifestyle choices going forward. While this is a hard moment, we would like to thank the dedication and camaraderie of all staff and patrons over the years, and would hope that in some shape or form the legend continues.

To that end, we intend to go out with a bang. Also, with whimpers and a variety of other noises. Looking forward to seeing you there.

Management.

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My bracelet would indicate to everyone that I was there exclusively for private play.

My experienced friend Ursula, on the other hand, would display a shiny green bracelet, which let everyone know that she, who was experienced, was open to all kinds of new experiences.

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Belinda had brought a boy I didn't know: his name was Rick, and he had a goat's beard. But it was obvious that he would run away immediately. He hadn't even agreed to wear the things that had been prepared for him.

I, on the other hand, had worn everything my "temporary Owner" had arranged for me for the Mad Hatter theme.

The three "experienced" girls were all going to be disguised as the Tweedledee and Tweedledum twins.

We three "clueless" virgin losers would each be dressed as the White Rabbit, with some variations on the gold pocket watch chain, and wearing somehow something like a waistcoat. The idea, which seemed very funny to Ursula, was that to get into character, each of us would have to complain about being late: in the sense that being a virgin at the age of 21 was like being late with all the appointments of a lifetime.

I wore long white male bunny ears, which should have attracted the attention of everyone in the club. But on my wrist, I wore a red wristband, which guaranteed that no one would bother me. It was a very garish red, which not even a color-blind person could mistake for the very dangerous "Amber color" (or at least, it looked dangerous to me that night).

I was also wearing other things, which would have prevented many occasions from bothering me, from a strictly material point of view. An anal plug was stuck in my anus: unceremoniously, Ursula had said that I could not be accepted as a Rabbit if I did not flaunt a fluffy, cuddly, all-pure tail. At the very least, it was a barrier against any unsolicited touching, by fingers or penises or whatever.

But before making me wear the plug, Ursula demanded that I wear a metal chastity cage. It consisted of a ring that encircled the testicles, and then a short, curved tube made of small bars. She laughed and said that that device would help me preserve my precious virginity: and she helped me put it on, reducing the size of my penis with a towel soaked in cold water and then using a nylon stocking to slide it in (genial idea) while it was covered in lubricant.

Ursula laughed as she locked my cage with a brass padlock. I kept silent.

My "Owner" wanted to parade some knowledge, reading from a written note a passage from Lewis Carroll:

"Suddenly she came upon a little table, all made of solid glass.

There was nothing on it but a tiny golden key".

And then Ursula sneered: "I suspect that Carroll was a real pervert and that the fairy tale hides a lot of allusions to chastity. Anyway, here on this little table is the key that can open the lock of your cage. I will keep the key: it will always be here, hanging from my necklace. You will see that no one will bother you. A leather strap buckled behind my kidneys helped to hold the cage and also to prevent me from even thinking of slipping off.

[Note. I always shaved my pubic hair, because our coach at school had explained to us that it reduced the risk of infection in the event of an accident. I don't know if it was true, but we all did it. And in all the porn films I saw, all the straight actors had bald pubes. Maybe in some photos from the 1970s, you can see some actors with curly pubes, but that's material for archaeologists of anthropology].

I asked: "What about the watch? How can I complain that I'm late? You know, no..."

Coincidentally, I remembered the exact words from the book.

"It was the White Rabbit returning, splendidly dressed,

with a pair of white kid-gloves in one hand and a large fan in the other.

He came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself:

"Oh! The Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! won't she be savage, if I've kept her waiting!"

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I recited from memory, marking the pronunciation of the letters "T" with a marked British accent.

"Ha, ha! You have studied a lot, bravo! I really think that for tonight, you could just call me Duchess: instead of Ursula, as usual. It has a very aristocratic sound, don't you think? But I've also been thinking about how to justify your anxiety about your delay... existential. You'll wear this waistcoat but without the jacket. It's very short, as I like it on your body, and it shows off your beautiful soft-tailed ass. And, you see, it has two pockets: in one you'll put this watch and in the other the hook with its golden chain. Gloves and fan in hand, but you won't need them anyway those are just useless accessories, for the sake of the show. Useless like YOU: their function is to remind you that you are as limp as an empty glove. Ha, ha! And, last but not least, these are two pairs of solid metal handcuffs. One pair for each wrist, like the ghost visiting Scrooge. The only key is here on my necklace, near the other one. What's missing? I think I have said it all."

"And my shoes?"

" Which shoes? No shoes. You're already too tall to look like a Bunny. You'll come barefoot, and if that sounds humiliating, it means you haven't seen anything yet: you are clueless."

Ursula made a sign in the air with her fingers: CFNM.

"What?" (I didn't understand the gestures in the air. I knew that acronym, but I couldn't decipher the letters she meant to write).

"CFNM: Clothed Females, naked males. In the next Future, this will be the basic paradigm of the humiliation in a Gynarchy. There will soon come a world in which men will be treated as objects, and women will constantly humiliate them.

The difference in clothing will function as a mark to indicate the different ranking in the hierarchy. Completely naked, and caged 24/7/365, the loser and failed slaves; naked with a few accessories the desirable males; clothed, albeit provocatively, the women, mainly to emphasize their empowered freedom.

I imagine a fashion made specifically to tease, with wide openings to show subordinate males those pussies and nipples they will never have access to... swinging the key that might grant those Betas a brief release... for their short limp penises... but I will never allow that to happen, ha, ha!

I want you to become my butler and always live with the anxiety of not having served me with enough devotion. I can already imagine how agitated you would be if I had hidden the gloves I ordered you to bring me..."

Ursula opened the book, searching the pages of the Court Trial. Then she read the text near to the Royal Herald's portrait (me). Imitating my voice, she pretended to be me disguised as a harried White Rabbit, worried about losing the gloves:

"The Duchess! The Duchess! Oh, my dear paws!

Oh, my fur and whiskers! She'll get me EXECUTED,

as sure as ferrets are ferrets! Where can I have dropped them, I wonder?"

Ha, ha, what a funny face you made! I don't intend to have you beheaded, if that's what you're afraid of, ha, ha! But I could be your cruel Duchess, give you humiliating orders, and then frighten you with my threats! I could make you lick my feet or my pussy, or even order you to serve dinner naked and caged to the girls when they come to our house... The only difference is that the real White Rabbit can count on Mary Ann, his obedient housemaid, while in our case, you would be my denied lonely Frenchmaid, ha, ha!"

I would have liked to reply with many words, but they would not have been consistent with the Carrollian character. I thought that Ursula must not know the characters well, because the Duchess was not a very wise choice: besides, she was wearing somehow a half-naked Twidledum costume, and she did not look like an aristocrat, but anything but. I kept quiet and glanced ostentatiously at my pocket watch. We were late for Tea: not just me, but everyone.

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That Rick, who would have run away at once, must have protested at length against Belinda's clothing requirements, because he was not wearing any of the things I was wearing, except rabbit ears and a long coat. He was also shoeless, but he protested all the time. He was not the right person at all and would ruin everyone's mood. he was too nervous. He kept saying "I'm not going in!" She tried to convince him, promising him all kinds of sexual services, but he was shaking like a leaf.

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We all waited in the flat for which Ursula and I paid rent, sharing only expenses and coffee, and nothing else. It was already 8.30 p.m.: we would be late because Kimberly was still missing her boyfriend. Ursula was all happy because she said that only losers arrive on time: lateness is chic. I remarked that this sentence of hers contradicted all the things she had said before about clueless virgins being late, but she chased the idea away with a wave of her hand.

Finally, Kimberly arrived in the taxi. We rushed up to avoid being seen by the neighbors. Along with Kimberly, there was the third White Rabbit. But, surprise: the Rabbit was a girl!

When the girl saw us, she blushed violently. I recognized her: she was Consuelo, a linguistics student at university (she specialized in some neo-Latin language: French perhaps? I wasn't sure). She was completely nude, wearing nothing but a rabbit's tail and ears: a tail much smaller and fluffier than mine (but similarly stuck in her little rosebud, I guessed) and a pair of short ears, almost more kitten-like than bunny.

Officially, though, she was a White Rabbit like me.

How could she wear the gold pocket watch chain?

Well, the only way: a gold chain was hanging from her dark nipples, with two crocodiles clamping them tightly. The two clamps were similar to clothes pegs but had little teeth... I was sure Consuelo was in a lot of pain.

Instinctively, she tried to hide from our predatory male gaze - me and Rick - although the most aggressive one was undoubtedly Ursula.

Ursula laughed mischievously and first gave a sharp tug at the golden chain: "Let's see if these two crocodiles are tightened properly!"

Two big tears gushed from poor Consuelo's eyes, but she did not utter any safewords or words to defend herself. She only tried to cover her nakedness with her shoulders. Without her hands.