Warning: Kinky adult themes ahead. Don't read if you shouldn't.




What have I got up my arse? It doesn’t feel like a regular butt plug and it’s not painful, but it’s not exactly comfortable either. Sort of like I was half way through on the loo and it got stuck.

 

As I am marched down the short corridor, I try to look over my shoulder and see what’s hanging out of me, but the collar of the straitjacket is too tall and stiff and all I see is my husband’s smug face as he pushes me along. My lapse in concentration at walking in the impossible boots is almost my undoing, but Ben catches me and restores my tenuous balance.

 

“You’ll find out what it is soon enough,” he says with a cheerful glint in his voice.

 

“Mmmmmaah,” is all I can say back.

 

We reach the door to the ‘play’ room with its notice, lovingly carved by one of our number into a piece of walnut. “Bother yee not with safewords, thee who passeth through this door” it reads in a Ye Olde World style of writing. I am bundled through into the room which to my surprise, is rather bare today. I was expecting the usual mass of kinky toys that normally make the place look like a dodgy porn film set, especially as Ben said they had ‘something special’ planned for tonight, but although the dim lighting leaves plenty of dark spots where ‘stuff’ could be lurking, there’s nothing much on show except a round card table and chairs in the middle of the room. The others are already here. Mike, George and another man I don’t know are seated at the table while Melanie, Gill and an unknown woman are standing very upright behind their respective partners.

 

“C’mon you two, we want to get started,” says Mike. “I don’t think you know John and Elaine. John and Elaine, this is Ben and Kay.”

 

There’s an exchange of pleasantries between Ben and John, and I try to make some sort of friendly gesture, but it’s not easy when you’re in one of those bolero style straitjackets and your mouth is full of rubber. Even so, I’m slightly offended that the newcomer, Elaine seems not to even acknowledge us, until I notice that the collar of her straitjacket is fixed to the top of a pole which runs down to a large metal disc on which she’s standing, effectively rendering her immobile and explaining her upright posture. A closer look and I notice her nipple chain is looped around the pole, and her ankles are secured in clamps at the base of it. Yikes, she really isn’t going anywhere. And actually, neither are Melanie or Gill as they’re similarly secured. And ominously, there’s a fourth metal disc on the floor behind the empty chair at the table. And yes, it’s got a pole sticking up from it.

 

I’m ushered forward until I’m standing on the disc. Mike gets up from his chair and secures my ankles while Ben takes my nipple chain and forms a loop in it. Unlike the others, my pole is not much more than waist height, but I soon see that it’s actually telescopic and Ben extends it upwards through the loop he has made in my chain, and up till it reaches my neck. A click of a padlock and I’m fixed. But then he has to go and push the pole up a bit further to make me stretch and tilt my head back before he secures the telescopic clamp. Now I’m as upright and immobile as the others.

 

I wonder what sort of kinky shenanigans is about to unfold here tonight. ‘Something special’ eh? I look at the other women, trying to see excitement or dread in their faces, but from what I can make out around their gags, they’re as mystified as I am. There’s pouring of drinks and the men settle at the table to do whatever it is that’s going to titillate or torture us ladies. Like the others present, I do love bondage games, otherwise we wouldn’t come here, but I’m getting a bad feeling about this one.

 

“OK, here we go,” says Mike, who seems to be the self-appointed ring leader tonight. “Ladies, there’s only one rule you need to know. You’re not allowed to look away or close your eyes when there’s a game in progress. Automatic penalty if you do. Okay gentlemen, it’s one pound minimum buy in. One pound equals fifty millilitres in the jug. Winner’s jug goes back in the tank. Jugs go in at the end of a game if there’s more than five hundred mils in them. I’ll deal first. Game is five card draw. Draw up to all five if you want.”

 

So they’re going to play poker? And we have to watch? That’s it? OK, so standing like this in these boots is going to get a bit like torture after a while, but that would be a bit mild for us seasoned bondage ladies. Maybe we’re going easy tonight as there’s a new couple. I look across at them. He looks okay. A bit thin on top, but not unpleasant to look at. She’s a stunner though. A beautiful, curvy body with large breasts and a long mane of blond hair that she’s wearing in a platted pony tail, which runs over her shoulder and hangs down in front of her, reaching down as far has her securely folded arms. My bitchy side notices that she’s not a natural blond and needs to do her roots. I also notice that her nipple chain is wound, not once, but twice round the pole, making it tight and pulling her breasts together so that the pole disappears into her cleavage. Whoever did that certainly wasn’t going easy on her. I imagine myself strapped to this newcomer, our breasts squashed together and wearing a double ring gag with a bendy rubber double-ender in our mouths that’s long enough that at least one of us has to have it in our throat. We dangle, slowly spinning together from a chain and gallows, and while we silently try to negotiate a schedule for whose turn it is to empty their throat and breathe, our husbands take turns at purpling our bottoms with a perforated wooden paddle. Ah yes, that’s better. I’ve been a bit slow to get going tonight, but I’m getting into the mood now. Actually I think I’d rather enjoy that little fantasy about the new girl, and looking at her now, I think she would too. She might be a newcomer to our little group, but somehow she doesn’t look like a novice that needs a gentle introduction. I remember the promise of ‘something special’ tonight. Yes, there’s going to be more to this game than meets the eye, and there might be a clue in some items that are on the table which you wouldn’t expect to see in a poker game but they don’t make any sense to me. My bad feeling suddenly shifts up a gear. It’s getting really bad. Or maybe good, depending on how I look at it.

 

Mike deals and four white £1 chips go in the pot. Each player has a wooden frame that he puts his cards in. The frame holds the cards upright, so his partner standing behind him can see what the cards are, but shields them from the other players’ view. I can see that Ben has a two, six, seven and a pair of Jacks. Each player also has a glass jug, and in the centre of the table is a large bowl full of what looks like water and several different sized ladles. I watch as each player fills the smallest ladle and pours it into his jug. Bizarre.

 

“Okay, pounds all in and everyone’s got their 50mls.” says Mike. “George. You’re to the dealer’s left. Care to start the preflop betting?”

 

“I’ll knock,” says George

 

“Err, I think I’ll knock too,” says John, scratching his nose. Maybe that’s a tell.

 

Now it’s Ben’s turn. He pauses for a while, like he always does when playing Poker, before saying “I’ll raise £3.”

 

I can see the sense in that. There’s only four players so a pair of Jacks could easily win, and if a third comes up in the draw, well that’s really strong. Ben throws a green and a white chip into the pot, and then fills one of the ladles from the bowl and pours it into his jug. What’s with the water stuff? I look across at Melanie and then at Gill, and then Elaine, the unknown newcomer, but I can’t see any sign that any of them have a clue as to what’s going on.

 

“Oh, Ben’s not hanging about,” says Mike. “Okay, I’ll call your £3.” He throws his chips in the pot and as with Ben, he starts filling a ladle and pouring it into his jug.

 

“Well I’m not folding on the first preflop of the night,” says George. “So I’ll call your three quid as well.” More chips and water move around the table.

 

“And John Turnball’s not one for folding the first hand either so I’ll call your three.” He does his chips and water stuff too.

 

“Okay, dealer says we’re all done with the preflop. Time to draw. George, how many cards?”

 

“I’ll take two please.”

 

“Okay, there you go. John?”

 

“Three cards.”

 

“Okay, Ben?”

 

My husband hesitates as always, but then asks for three. He throws in the dross but keeps the Jacks and gets his three replacements. An ace, a seven, and whoa, another Jack! Nice going Hubby. You’re gonna whip ‘em with that.

 

“And the dealer takes two. Uhuh. Okay. Next round. George?”

 

George smiles and then gives an ironic sounding chuckle. “Ben, you might be a good card player, but Kay’s poker face is hopeless. She lit up like a bulb when you got your draw so I think you’ve got a killer hand there. I’ll fold.”

 

Ben turns and looks at me. “Kay, if you’re going to give the game away all night then we’re gonna lose a shed load of cash, but it’ll be all the worse for you, so I suggest you make an effort and try to keep it under wraps, there’s a good girl.”

 

Patronising bastard! But he’s right. George read me like a book. I never was any good at Poker. But what’s this ‘it’ll be worse for me’ for Christ’s sake? This is starting to get to me. I wriggle against my restraints, but I can’t move and only succeed in hurting my nipples as the chain tugs against the pole. That familiar combination of frustration and excitement churns within me and mingles with my considerable anxiety. A rich cocktail is brewing.

 

“Well as the newbie of the group, I’m going to take advantage of that little titbit of local knowledge and fold too,” says John.

 

“Hmmm. Just you and me then Mike. I’ll go a fiver.” Ben throws in his chips and starts filling his jug again.

 

“HeHe Ben. You wouldn’t have been briefing your good lady on the way here by any chance?” Mike stares at me, knowing that I’m Ben’s weakness. I try to ignore him and blank my face. Maybe I can convince him that I was bluffing. “Well what the hell. It’s only water. And a bit of money too. I’ll see your fiver. Whatcha got?”

 

Ben takes his cards from the frame and lays them on the table. “Three bad boys.”

 

“Dammit. Two pairs. Eights and threes. Your kitty.”

 

Ben rakes the chips in from the pot and stacks them in front of him. “Could have been so much more Kay if you’d kept yer face straight,” he says without looking round to me. He takes his jug and pours the water back into the bowl at the centre of the table.

 

So the winner gets to empty his jug and the others apparently don’t. And Mike, who lost the most, is left with the most water in his jug. Water in the jug must be bad, but why? Suddenly there’s a stifled moan from Melanie and I look across to see an expression of pure horror on her face. Shit, has she just worked it out? What the fuck?

 

“What’s up there Honey?” asks Mike as he tosses in his blind for the next round and reaches for a ladle. “You just sussed it huh? Well you better hope I win this round coz my blind just took this jug to five hundred mils.”

 

Melanie starts shaking and moaning. Her nipple chain and collar rattle against the pole.

 

“Keep the noise down back there Mel. Unless you’d like some weights hanging on that nipple chain. And don’t go giving the game away. You wouldn’t want me to lose this hand would you?”

 

Melanie stops shaking and stands still, but whimpering quietly with her eyes tightly closed. She’s really spooked about something. What could be so…. Oh God no. Suddenly all the pieces come together and it all makes sense. Terrible, horrible sense. No no no no no no no no! You evil bastards. Please, anything but that. I groan in despair as the disgusting thought of what’s going to happen crashes through me.

 

“Ah, Ben. I think Kay’s just worked it out too. She’s not looking too chuffed,” chortles Mike.

 

My husband casually turns and looks at me. “I promised you would find out what the thing in your arse is for. And now apparently you know. So as the night goes on and you’ve started to feel a bit, err, full, and you can see I’m bluffing with forty quid in the kitty, try not to look too scared at the sight of a whole two litres in the jug. Remember Darling, Poker face.”