The Dinner Game (Of Most Clueless)

They had a ring on their finger and two red bracelets: they did not seem interested in having sex with other people. I imagined they were husband and wife, perhaps just curious, or mere spectators: voyeurs. The salon was full of exhibitionists, so, I thought, it was normal that there were also people who just watched others.

Her costume was not very complicated: she wore a cape with several flounces, covered in a sugary glaze, and above one boob was a card with "Eat Me" written in beautiful calligraphy. I guessed that she must love receiving cunnilingus from that big muscular man: the Petite Lady and the Big Guy. I also thought that perhaps Carroll was aware, that when a man "eats" his woman's pussy, the man's size changes considerably... unless he is wearing a metal cage like I was at that moment!

Furthermore, I thought that she most probably enjoyed provoking the men and women in the Club's Hall, by walking around with a sign inviting them to "eat her", and then rejecting them by showing the red bracelet... which meant that that invitation was reserved for the only one who was allowed to eat her!

I also looked at the man, to see what kind of costume he was wearing. But I couldn't guess. He was bald and had a huge dark brown cloak wrapped around him completely. While he drank tea or ate almond biscuits, he used a bare arm, so I would have deduced that he was naked underneath the cloak: but I couldn't figure out what character he might represent. From Carroll, or Perrault's fables: maybe Bluebeard, but without the beard? The only blue, here, were my balls.

The Big Guy was huge. I looked at him all huddled up, and he seemed twice as tall as I was, with his chin erect and his eyes upwards, proud and fierce.

Maybe he was a Dominator and forced his wife to let him eat her pussy in public, and he commanded her to orgasm in front of weird strangers while they jerked off watching her. Maybe he forced her to be facialized by a crew of unknown men and... and.. oh, I don't know.

He seemed so self-assured and peaceful. Maybe he was a professional Dominator like you see in porn movies. And his shoulders were muscular: twice as big as mine.

And he certainly wasn't skipping leg day at the gym: his thigh muscles looked like a bull's neck, sculpted and defined. His wife must have been very proud to show it off to her vanilla girlfriends. I wonder if he was showing it off to other women... maybe like Butler, naked except for the short metal cage, forced to pour champagne to women dressed in fancy dresses and high heels while he walked barefoot on the floor... CFNM... OMG...

While I was lost in my wandering and dreaming thoughts, the Petite Lady looked with interest at the crocodiles biting Consuelo's nipples, and addressed words of polite praise to Kimberly (who was at that moment torturing her with the Magic Wand, again, yet without effect):

"A very appropriate choice of dresses for this Event, young Owner... may I quote some verses?"

How doth the little crocodile

Improve his shining tail

And pour the waters of the Nile

On every golden scale!

How cheerfully he seems to grin,

How neatly spreads his claws,

And welcomes little fish in

With gently smiling jaws!

.

Please accept all my congratulations! Some fools neglect details, and to save a few coins, use plastic clamps that cause unnecessary pain... whereas, choosing two golden crocodiles to tightly clamp those two dark pink fish was truly a nice touch. Chapeau! And please also extend my compliments to your submissive girl... the verses speak of little fishes, but here we see two magnificent great nipples bitten tightly! Bravo, my kudos!"

Kimberly was flattered while Ursula was just reddened: someone was stealing her role as the center of attention!

The two of them hadn't noticed, but the new interlocutor avoided talking to us because she didn't want to break the ban imposed by our red bracelets.

Petite continued: "And tell me, is it easy to open those marvelous shining golden crocodiles, or do you need a key? I'd like to buy them too..."

"Perhaps you are too old to hang chains from your slack nipples, woman." Barked Ursula, who had already drunk too much.

The Big Guy did not say a single word. He did not get up. He simply shifted his chair by moving a single thigh. Ursula fell silent.

He was tall and muscular. Now we could also see that he was naked under the huge brown cloak. Naked, and with a golden cage much shorter than mine imprisoning his cock. Underneath, two huge, swollen, heavy blue balls made it clear that the Petite Lady had not let him cum in a long time. He exhibited calmness and composure but was loaded with testosterone and sperm... and ready to obey eagerly.

His wife pretended not to have heard the drunken Ursula's rude words, and continued talking, addressing only Kimberly, who was closest to her.

Ursula was next to me; I was next to Consuelo; she was next to Kimberly, next to the petite lady, next to the Big One.

Kimberly murmured that to make the two golden crocodiles open their mouths, a key was not required: a simple pressure on the tail would be enough and they would slide out. But one had to press on both sides at the same time: even if the submissive had tried to hit them with her chin, it would not have been enough.

The Petite nodded in satisfaction.

Then, suddenly, the little Lady changed her tone and asked Kimberly point-blank what she was torturing the submissive for if she was in love, if they were a couple, and what was their inner motivation.

Kimberly stammered something about the fact that there was a bet against time going on, and about a project of the three female friends to open a niche online site where they perform torturing young virgins in forced chastity.

Overbearingly, Ursula interjected, laughing forcibly, that we two bunnies were indeed virgins in life: and that we were "also" locked in enforced chastity that night, but that she had made us wear the White Rabbit costume to emphasize that we were retarded in life.

Nobody laughed.

La petite asked: "But you two girls, are you aware of the important psychological fallout of the game you are playing? That it is not a game but a real Lifestyle?"

Our rambunctious experts were speechless.

I took a closer look at the Big Guy. He is a six-foot-tall huge man with the broad shoulders of a professional boxer. Next to him is a slender, petite woman. He has parted his thighs and holds his wood-coloured cloak open. Without any inhibition, he shows us his cock locked inside a very short, almost flat cage.

"Damn, sir: so much dynamite, and such a short fuse?"

"This is the most comfortable size for my keyholder when she wants to tease me with a fake blowjob. We've also tried wearing the flat cage, but I'm afraid it's not suitable for the two of us: not because I can't fit in it (when flaccid, the penis is as pliable as an octopus tentacle!) but because she loses most of the fun!"

Our two torturers look at Petite with wide eyes: "But then you madam, you are a Sadist!"

"No, not really. I perceive myself as non-dominant, and I was very reluctant from the start. But, how can I put it? The two of us were in love like lovebirds, and I would have accepted whatever perversion he confessed to me. Communication is the key... not the key to the lock, the key to the relationship, let me tell you that as if you two were the granddaughters of an old grandmother!"

"You're not old, honey..." hummed the Big Guy.

"Don't try to flatter me, little prisoner, the evening will still be long for you!" hissed the wife, flaunting the key that hung from her necklace.

"An eventual happy ending FOR YOU is yet to be earned!" Then turning to Kimberly, she confessed: "My husband's costume is a reference to the doorknob. Alice goes through the keyhole... Well, when my husband is standing, the brown cloak represents the wood of the door, from which both the golden cage and the blue balls come out: like a gilded knocker in a medieval doorknob. And as for the hole... in the middle of the tip, right from his knob, there's a hole from which the sperm comes out... when I let him, of course... Maybe it's not a perfect costume, but it's so many years that we've been members of the Club, nobody has objected to it... You know, we... "

I interrupted her (very politely) because I was genuinely too curious: the word "EARN" had deeply affected me. "Earn? If I may ask, please tell me, madam, if I'm not being indiscreet, do you apply a point system? That is, if he irons his shirts or cooks dinner or does the chores, does he proceed in steps towards release?"

"Oh, dear, no. Not really! I find both point collections and calendars very silly. If my husband knew he was getting a release on the 4th of July, how would he act the day before?

He would be both demotivated and cocky!

Demotivated, because he already knows that there is no need to be enthusiastic: freedom only comes tomorrow, even if he behaves well!

But also cocky, because even if he misbehaved, I would be forced to release him because it was his day.

No, no calendars. I firmly believe that the only way is to keep him in uncertainty. It's like when two boyfriends are at the beginning... nothing is taken for granted. Will he want to kiss me today? Who knows! If I touch his hand, will he be excited or bored? I don't know!"

"Oh, ma'am, described like that it sounds like a beautiful lifestyle!"

"It is."

"But he doesn't look feminized at all... in fact, he has significant muscles."

"Listen... you two look like you are the age of my grandchildren. Grandma here, maybe can drop some knowledge useful for you. The more a man is strong, respected, and powerful, the more fun it is for his wife to boss him around... in the bedroom. Or in the Club: behind closed doors.

What is the point of bullying a notoriously weak, failed, frilly little man?

It would just be cowardly bullying.

I WANT him to be in perfect shape, I want him to be strong, and I want everyone who knows him to respect him: at work and among friends. And then, I want him to be my obedient slave in the bedroom... but a respected, strong slave, admired and envied by all men and women. You understand?"

I inserted it again. "If I understand correctly, it is a psychological game. The greater the power of the prey, the greater the glory of the predator."

"Exactly! Good Bunny-boy. If I catch a small mouse, that means I am just a small kitten. But if I catch a huge rhinoceros, with a long, hard horn and inviolable armor plates all around its body, it means I am a giant tigress!"

With her eyes misting with wine, Ursula grimaced. "You wouldn't have us believe that your husband has a long cock, would you? In words, wives are all braggarts, but from what I can see, he'll be two inches at most..."

The wife expected that reaction. She pulled her mobile phone out of her handbag and said "These are some of the photos I have in the archive folder. Believe it or not, you see now some completely natural photography, without filters or retouching. This is my face. That bar of flesh you see as long as my whole face, that's his cock when I free him... and yes, the knob is impressive. Those blue ones, under the cock ring, are his blue balls. Honestly... his isn't the biggest cock I've ever seen... because, frequenting this club, I've seen bigger ones, like an arm baby holding a red apple. But it is my husband's dick (it's MINE), and I am fond of it. I hope these photographs may satisfy your curiosities, youngsters, because at this hour it is not my intention to use the key and open the lock after so long, just to give a practical demonstration to two incredulous people."

"I believe her!" said Consuelo, who was opening her mouth for the first time. She seemed very interested in everything the Petite Lady said.

But perhaps it was that spark of independence shown by Consuelo that triggered Ursula's rage. Until that moment, I had always spoken in the obsequious and doubting tone typical of the White Rabbit, as a sort of role-playing. My questions were as silly as those of the Court Herald and always phrased as if I were incapable of understanding anything without the guidance of my owner, the Ugly Evil Duchess.

But Consuelo had spoken with the freedom and independence of Alice. Consuelo's voice didn't sound like that of a frightened Herald: it sounded like that of a woman a mile or maybe two tall, capable of crushing those little girls like a deck of playing cards.

Ursula could have taken it out on Consuelo: but, perhaps clouded by too much wine, she decided to attack our gentle interlocutor. Ursula tried to overpower the woman: after all, she was taller and sat on an upper chair (the logic of drunk people often builds syllogisms on sand).

But the words Ursula chose to say, sounded ridiculous... and in an instant, all the arrogance and haughtiness disappeared. Ursula was not a dominatrix, nor was she a Keyholder: she was a poor insecure girl pretending to be a sex expert.

Ursula stood up, towering on her heels, and looked down on the little lady. I have a hallucinated memory of what happened next. I thought several times about what words I had heard, but the memories overlapped with Lewis Carroll's text: as if Life imitated Art and not vice versa, contrarywise.

.

"Hold your tongue!" said Ursula,

pretending to be a real Queen of Hearts,

turning purple in her face.

"I won't!" said the Lady.

"OFF... WITH..." Ursula shouted at the top of her voice.

"...her ...head!" the Big Guy concluded the quotation.

Nobody moved.

"Who cares for you?" said the Lady (she had grown

to her full size by this time)."You're...

... nothing but a pack of TARTS!"

.

A deck of Cards, a pack of Tarts! Consuelo and I couldn't help laughing: I had finally understood why the Knave of Hearts had been accused of stealing some "TARTS" from the kitchen!

Tarts, which the Queen of Hearts herself had made such: how the madam of a brothel trains young whores.

Ursula realized that although she was taller than the petite lady, she was the keyholder of the most massive and muscular man I had ever met. A keyholder who was aware that he would obey any order she gave: even lifting a conceited wannabe off the floor and throwing her into a tub of water.

Ursula tried to make up for the sentence left unsaid. "Off with... those two losers! I mean: Kimberly, you and I must walk off, leaving here your slave and my beta. I'm so sorry, Mister Big One: no misunderstanding, you two are magnificent, the two losers are our bunnies. Follow me, Kimberly: let's leave the two bunnies handcuffed to their chairs, and go have some fun. The night is still young, and we are sure to find sausages juicier than those on this tea table.

They also hear Belinda laughing loudly on stage, while a stranger much older than her, on her knees and handcuffed, is licking her asshole... so they think the REAL FUN is away from the tea table. They still don't know that with that green wristband, they might be involved in a gangbang.

Ursula huffed to me. "I've had enough of your useless talk. I'm going where Belinda is, who will surely have found stronger drinks than tea, and better sausages than these. Kimberly, are you coming with me or staying with these two losers? They've handcuffed to chairs anyway, they can't go anywhere." Ursula and Kimberly walked away: both because they were intimidated by the Big Guy, and because the two "underlings" were only there to let them in and to play the bet: but since we both seemed intent on staying and since the bet was about stay-or-go, staying together with us was boring for two so-called "experts".

From four, we were now down to two.

The petite lady bent down politely towards Consuelo.

"Don't worry, tender paw: nothing bad will happen to you in this Club. Your wristband clearly states that you are not at the disposal of everyone, because you're involved in a private game: the few crew in your taxi. However, I'm here to protect you. I'm not that tall, but I have a reputation. here. And as a weapon, I have my fully loaded man, here at my command, and I am not afraid to use him if calm needs to be restored! As the saying goes, talk soft, and carry a big stick..."

Consuelo laughed for the first time in the evening.

Oh my gosh, she was so beautiful when she laughed! Her eyes became two happy, curved little slits, and two marvelous dimples pierced her cheeks! OMG... why was I handcuffed? I was standing next to the most attractive girl I had ever seen, and we were even dressed alike!

Consuelo asked to the Lady: "Isn't it humiliating for a wife to be forced to kiss her husband's penis? It is the organ from which he pisses..."

"Oh, sweet summer child! How old are you, darling?"

"Twenty-one... and two months."

"I'll tell you a joke. A spoilt little girl is taken to a fancy Italian restaurant. She asks what the chef's most delicious dish is. The waiter says it is an ancient Piedmontese specialty, dating back to the Savoy monarchy of Turin: boiled ox tongue. The girl is gagging: «Beah how disgusting, I can't even think about it! A body part that has been inside an animal's mouth, in contact with saliva! No, never! Rather, bring me an omelet with lots of eggs!»."

"I already knew that," Consuelo said, but laughed with her eyes, as thin as two happy crescents of the moon.

"The point is this. Everything we have in our bodies is natural. Nature wants us to have it. You have an anus because otherwise you would be dead. You have a vagina, you have udders, it's all-natural. Even a mother rabbit feeds her bunnies with her mammae: we are mammals, not crocodiles. And even kissing him down there, it's natural... I do it to my husband any time I want it, and it's not a submission for me, on the contrary! When I practice fellatio, I am in control, I decide the speed, the rhythm, whether to stop, whether to distract myself, whether to caress his testicles or his prostate. My husband has a penis. Your Male Rabbit here also has a penis. Watch him right now. He doesn't look dangerous or aggressive, right? It's because the chastity cage allows you to look at him calmly: whereas usually males are always hasty, driven by urgency."

"Yes: that's true."

"Do you want to try looking at him more closely? I see your wrists are cuffed to the arms of the chair, but there's nothing to stop you from bending over, except maybe those bunny ears..."

Consuelo brought her eyes closer to my imprisoned penis. The balls were blue, darker than normal. I could feel the warm breath of her mouth through the voids between bars. OMG, no girl had ever been so close to my cock in all my life!

Consuelo drew back, straightening her back slightly. "Tell me, is it normal for a shiny tear to come out of the hole at the tip?"

The petite laughed. The Big Guy (who had never closed his spread wood-colored cloak) said, in a calm and reassuring voice: "The hole has a scientific name, it is called the meatus. It is a blessing from Nature that he has a healthy, functioning meatus: some men do not have it and need surgery. What you see now is a drop of precum: it is not real sperm, but a lubricant, which the penis creates to facilitate penetration in the nearest future."