0 comments/  47768 views/  8 favorites

The Dice Game

By: Amandas_toy



I slid my key into the lock on Mistress' door and felt the usual thrill of anticipation run through me. What was going to happen? Would I like it? Most importantly of all, would I get to cum? I had no choice, of course, my submission was like an addictive drug, and only she could provide my next hit. And she had made it very clear that if I ever – ever – thought of breaking the habit, then the contents of her "blackmail book" would find their way into the wrong hands. I surely did not want that. The photos of me in her panties were bad enough, but the action shots – me licking my own cum from Mistress' shoe, Mistress fucking my ass with a strapon, me bent over with a red, strapped ass – if those fell into the wrong hands, I was ruined.

I locked the door behind me and stripped down to my lacy black panties. I had been made to throw out all of my male underwear, except one pair for emergencies, which could only be worn with Mistress' permission. I folded my clothes and piled them neatly – Mistress could not abide messiness – then knelt on a cushion she had set there, to await her.

In just a few moments she turned up, looking incredibly hot in a short, short black velvet skirt over a lace and satin teddy which hid and yet highlighted her fantastic breasts. She was luscious, and any man would have grabbed her to fuck her right then and there. But I am no longer a man, I am a slave toy. I waited, but my eyes and my cock betrayed my arousal.

She stood atop the short flight of stairs in the entryway, looking down upon me, striking a little pose to ensure she had my full attention. "Come here, sub toy."

I rose and walked silently up the stairs, stopping one stair short of her so our faces were level. Her arms snaked around me and we began to kiss, a few soft kisses at first, followed by deeper, more passionate kisses. My tongue slid into her mouth and caressed hers, but then she took control and slid her tongue into my mouth, kissing me aggressively and possessively. Even her kiss reminded me that she owned me.

On a nearby table was a small velvet rectangle, which Mistress had instructed me to hem up at the same time, and with the same fabric, as I made the skirt she was wearing. I had no idea what it was for, but it looked like I was now going to find out. 

Mistress produced a dice, black with red pips, and explained tonight's evil plan. "In a moment, sub toy, I am going to get you to guess a number from one to six, then I will roll the dice. If you guess right, you cum tonight. If you guess wrong, no cumming for you. And the number I roll ... that is how many orgasms you are going to give me before you may go. Understood?"

I understood. Multiple orgasms for her, and a one in six shot for me. That sounded fair. But fuck, I hoped I guessed right. I was horny as hell before turning up, and seeing Mistress looking so hot, then kissing her deep, had only made things worse. "Now, sub toy, turn away."

I turned, and heard her toss the dice onto the velvet square. "Oh, I am going to have fun," she said softly, as though to herself but clearly intending for me to hear. So did that mean I should guess a higher number? Or was she faking me out? "Tell me your guess, sub toy."

I took a deep breath. One number was as good as another really. "Four, Mistress."

"You may turn around."

I turned, and my eyes went straight to the velvet square. It was empty. I would have no idea whether I was going to cum until the moment arrived, and I had no idea how many orgasms Mistress was owed. I groaned softly and she laughed, leading me by the dick into the bedroom.

Mistress allowed me to undress her. Unzipping her skirt, I followed it down to her ankles with a train of kisses, then set it to one side. Instead of immediately removing the teddy, I kissed her sweet pussy through the lacy fabric, soon soaking it with her juices and my saliva. Mistress ran her fingers through my hair until she decided it was time to continue. At that, she gripped my hair in her fingers, pulling it. "Nobody said to eat me, subtoy."

I helped her from her teddy, folded it atop the skirt, and took in the incredibly hot sight of Mistress' naked body. She was mouth-watering. 

Mistress had me lay down on my front on the bed, with my knees bent and my hands behind me. In a trice, she snapped wrist and ankle cuffs on me, and joined them, holding me in a hogtie position. When I raised my head, I was in the perfect position to eat her pussy and she lay, with her legs spread wide for my tongue. I began by kissing her inner thighs, hovering over her pussy, warming it with my breath but not actually touching it. She began squirming, trying to move her lips towards mine. Eventually, after she had chased for a few minutes, I began licking the outer lips of her labia in long, slow strokes, slower towards the bottom when her juices were flowing and tasting so good. My tongue snaked into her open pussy, tongue-fucking her as far in as I could, while the tip of my nose began teasing her clit. I felt like I was drowning in pussy juice, and I loved it.

Mistress reached down to grab my hair again, pulling me upwards slightly. She wanted my tongue on her clit, and she wanted it now. It was beautifully swollen, and I began teasing it from one side to the other and back, feeling Mistress shudder each time, soft moans escaping her. She must have been hot before we began, to be this close this quick. I increased my pace, rhythmically painting her clit with my tongue. So close. She began talking dirty, which I adored. "Fuck yes, you pussylicking bitch. Eat me. Fuck, I'm gonna cum so bad ..."

I felt the spasms start deep within her, and rise to the surface. Her moans reached a crescendo and teetered for a moment on the brink, before she fell over it and came hard, her hands holding me in place and her hips bucking against me. Mistress rode my face through her orgasm and eventually sank against the bed, her breathing rapid and deep. Still locked in place, I began lapping the juices from her thighs, avoiding her too-sensitive clit.

When she recovered, Mistress unlocked me and kissed me deep again, telling me I was the best pussy eater she had ever known. I flushed at the compliment. We relaxed together for little while, laying on the best for a glass of vodka and some light conversation. I grew anxious after a while. Had she rolled a 1? Was the night over? Eventually, though, she took my drink from me and propped a pillow upright against the bedhead. "Sit against the bedhead, toy."

I sat, and she tied my wrists to the bedposts, my arms reaching out to the sides. An additional binding at the elbows gave me support and made the arrangement inescapable. She spread my legs as wide as they could comfortably go, and smiled broadly at the sight. "Stay there a moment." Yeah, as if I could go anywhere. She returned with a camera and snapped a couple of photos of me. "This is too nice to miss."

When she was done, Mistress produced her favorite vibrator, a long pink one with a clit stimulator. She sat opposite me, her legs spread and over mine. She was so close, within easy touching distance ... and yet I could not. Mistress grinned wickedly and popped the tip of the vibe into her mouth, giving it a wicked teasing blowjob which I could feel from memory, my cock iron-hard at the sight of her show and at the memory of just how good it feels. Leaning back slightly, she eased the vibe slowly inside her pussy, all the way in until the clit stimulator connected. Oh, how I envied that fucking vibe. I wanted to be inside her, feeling the tightness of her pussy, not watching some vibe take her instead.

When it was in, she turned it on low, and began stroking gently. Her eyes became unfocussed her head lolled back, as the vibes and the strokes, and the buzzing of her clit, transported her. I was irrelevant to her at that moment, all that mattered were the waves of sensation flowing into her from the vibrator. It was one hell of a show, her breasts moving and swaying with her body, her muscles tensing, relaxing, then tensing again. Where her legs crossed mine, I could feel even those muscles responding. Mistress' other hand began toying with her nipples, gently pinching them, rolling them between finger and thumb.

I felt my muscles tensing too, my arms pressing uselessly against the ropes; my hips humping pathetically into nothing, my cock bobbing, seeking but finding nothing. It was so erotic, yet so utterly frustrating. 

The speed of the vibrations increased, followed shortly by the speed of her strokes. Soft moans became higher pitched and shorter. Her eyes were completely closed now, her entire body focused on her pussy and clit. The futile thrusting of my hips matched her for pace, but not for sensation. Faster, she went, and faster. Her high pitched yips came closer and closer together until a low, continuous groan replaced them, starting deep within her and building up, her hand working faster and faster as the groan rose, until every muscle in her entire body tensed at once. She teetered on the edge, then fell over it, a crashing orgasm flowing through her, leaving her slumped back on the bed, quivering, the vibe falling from her to rest between her legs, her pussy splayed wide, so close to me yet so unreachable. All I could do was watch, and try to remember to breathe occasionally.

I have no idea how long Mistress lay there. I watched as her pussy seemed to pulse, then slowed, still puffed with arousal and leaking a tiny rivulet of her juices. Eventually, she stirred and sat up, looking at me just a little abashed. Now that she had cum, I think she was even a little embarrassed at having lost it in front of an audience, even if the audience was just me. She brought the vibe so my mouth and I sucked it hungrily, tasting her on the long pink shaft. Even second hand, she was delicious. As I did so, Mistress stroked a finger once along my cock, which was hard and slick with pre-cum. "I think you liked my little show," she breathed softly. Mouth full of fake cock, all I could do was nod enthusiastically.

We took another break, Mistress slipping on a dark blue satin robe and untying me from the bedhead. It suddenly hit me that if my guess had been correct I still had to help Mistress cum twice more. I would be a mess by the time I got my turn. But I was still loving every second of it.

When we had rested enough, Mistress shed her robe and led me back to the bed. She lay on her back and spread her legs wide. The sight had immediate effect upon my poor, denied cock, which stood up and began straining towards her. "Come over here and slide inside me," she said softly. I moved quickly to obey, supporting my weight on my elbows and nestling my cock at the entrance to her pussy, then slowly pushing inside her, feeling her warmth envelop me, and sliding slowly against the slick wetness of two orgasms tonight already. I had to go slowly ... too quickly and I'd have cum immediately, such was my arousal. When I was fully inside her, I leaned down and kisses her softly as she spoke my thoughts. "I love that feeling, slaveboy. Fake cock just isn't the same as this."

She continued. "Your third challenge, little slave, is to give me ten slam strokes without cumming. They don't have to be one after another, but there do have to be ten."

My eyes widened at this. "Slam strokes" was Mistress' term for when I fucked her with my entire weight driving the stroke. Normally they were only used during the rare occasions when Mistress allowed me to fuck her like a man, and only ever when I was on the point of cumming. To give her ten ... without cumming! ... seemed almost impossible. And yet I had to. I am her slave, and it is her cock, and she decides what she wants.

I drew my body back for the first, leaving my cock only just far enough inside her to be secure. Poised on hands and tiptoes, I thrust upwards with all the strength in my legs, slamming my cock inside her. Mistress moaned, a guttural animal moan. She loved slam strokes. For a moment my cock threatened to cum, but a few deep breaths and a few still moments pulled me back from the brink. When I was sure I was in control I began slowly pulling out again. Mistress' hand crept between us, and her fingers found her clit, rubbing it in soft circles. When I was at full stretch, she pulled her hands away and I slammed her again, and again teetered on the edge before regaining control.

So the pattern went, with Mistress stroking her clit between strokes, and me managing – just – to stay in control. The pauses between slam strokes became longer and longer. By number 7 the effort was unbelievable, and Mistress was responding more and more to her fingers between strokes, the muscles of her pussy teasingly massaging my cock inside her. I had no idea whether I could keep this up without erupting inside her. But I had to. I lifted myself, paused for a moment, then thrust had down into her, causing a happy moan from her and a groan of massive effort from me. Eight. She was getting closer and closer with each thrust. I concentrated on my breathing, feeling the sensations from my cock fall slowly away until I could manage again. Mistress' fingers caused more ripples and spasms inside her. Eventually, millimeter by slow millimeter, I pulled out of her, and thrust back in. Nine. Oh, fuck, I was going to cum, fuck fuck fuck ... breathe ... slowly, slowly, I pulled back from the brink. One more. Just one more.

Mistress' fingers were a blur as I drew out of her this time, getting herself closer and closer to her third orgasm for the evening. She began to thrash under me, right on the point of spilling over. SLAM, I pounded into her and sent her over the edge. Her hands went to the cheeks of my ass, nails digging in as she held me into her, her pussy alive all over my cock, recovery almost impossible for me ... almost ... but somehow I held off. When her hands left my asscheeks, I slowly drew out of her and sat back, my rigid cock standing tall but frustrated.

Mistress noticed too. "Looks like somebody really, really wants to cum."

"Yes, Mistress, so badly!"

"I am proud of you, my slave, for making it through that. I didn't think you could, and was going to deny you for two weeks as punishment." I shuddered at the thought.

"May I make you cum again, Mistress, then cum myself? Please?"

She must have known what the answer was, but she made a show of pausing to consider. Stretching out my agony. "Slave, get me my cellphone." I was confused. What could that have to do with whether I could cum or not? Still, I stood, my cock seeming to project about three feet in front of me, and got her phone. She pressed a few buttons then showed me the screen. On the screen was a photo, taken with the phone's camera. A dice. Showing three pips.

It took a moment for the consequences of the photo to sink in, then I realized. We were done! Three for her, and none for me. I was to be sent home like this, straining, wanting, driving myself crazy. I should have cum while slamming her, and taken the punishment. Except that I wouldn't have done it. I needed to obey. Fuck!

Mistress watched, amused, as realization hit me. "Slaveboy, it's time for you to go home now. But you have impressed me tonight, so I'm willing to let you cum in the morning. Make yourself a slice of toast, cum on it, to thoughts of tonight's fun, then have a yummy breakfast. Goodnight, my slave."

Mistress rolled over and let me see myself out. It would be a frustrating night, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Dice Game



Cheri, Laura, and Gwen were best friends but almost nothing alike. 

Gwen was aggressive and passionate. She'd competed in gymnastics as a child and still practiced a little for fun and exercise. She also captained the university's debate team and was bound to be a high priced lawyer someday, which got her into trouble when she contradicted her professors a little too much. The short-haired brunette hardly went a day without talking about her next hiking trip to the mountains.

Laura was outgoing and lithe. She aced every college class yet still found ample time to bury her nose in Victorian romance novels. She was blonde and knew perfectly well how hot she was. She liked the attention she got from men whenever she put on a tiny dress and went to a club, teasing them with the nautical star tattoo on her shoulder. At times, it took both Gwen and Cheri to keep her properly grounded. Laura taught late night Pilates classes, saying she needed the cash. She didn't though, as her family was incredibly rich.

Cheri was slightly shorter than the other two but made up for it with her enviable bustline, to the point where she'd been forced off her track team in high school from the discomfort of running any faster than a jog. Born in France before moving to the US at a young age, Cheri's parents were doctors and had transferred their love for science to her daughter. Analytical but also warm, Cheri made friends easily and already had an impressive summer internship lined up with a research lab.

Enduring an unpleasant Geography elective their freshman year helped the three become fast friends and soon they rented an apartment together. Secrets never lasted long between them after that, and thus they discovered a few interests they did share. One of them was bondage.

Laura had always been into bondage and couldn't hide her fetish for long. One day Gwen and Cheri had returned home to find her searching the sofa for a lost key, wearing nothing but handcuffs and a ball gag. Laura, understandably, had been embarrassed but her friends both found the concept intriguing. Soon they were all helping each other experiment with Laura's extensive collection of toys.

Not that these young women always agreed. A normal Friday night for this trio usually involved heated debates over local nightlife. Each girl always wanted to head to a different part of the city from the rest and it became something of an ongoing rift between them. That was, until Gwen invented the Dice Game. The Dice Game allowed the three friends to make quick decisions about their plans by adhering to strict rules. More than anything else, the Dice Game acted as a deterrent. If the girls agreed to use it, one of them would spend the night bound at home while the other two went out. It was harsh, but in most cases that stiff penalty helped the girls reach consensus voluntarily. 

The girls rarely invoked the Dice Game but after two years together it had been around enough for each of the girls to have been on the losing end at least once, left bound in some form or another (the game determined that) while the other two went out and partied. They had every piece of equipment they ever needed thanks to Laura's credit card. No matter how much they each enjoyed bondage, being the odd girl out was always less than ideal.

The last Friday of the semester, with final exams finally over, caused something of an explosion on campus. Thousands of excited and carefree students flooded the area's night life. It was the night of the semester. Cheri, Laura, and Gwen naturally couldn't wait to join in the festivities.

"F.L.E.X., tonight, please," Laura pled with her friends. Strobe lights and dance music. Guys eagerly buying them overpriced drinks. Yes, please.

"Ugh, I can never hear the next day, it's too loud and the guys get grabby," Gwen complained, "C'mon girls, martini bar on 2nd is doing jazz tonight!"

"Kill me now," Cheri hated jazz. She personally wanted the frat parties. Cheap beer, the hottest guys. The argument went on and on for half an hour. Finally Cheri got fed up enough to go and shower. When she came back the other two bickered on. Cheri decided to break the stalemate.

"Are we really doing this, Laura? Gwen?" she asked pointedly, drying her hair with the towel. "If we can't agree, that means Dice. You really want jazz, Gwen?"

"Yes, I do."

"Laura, F.L.E.X.?"

"Hell yeah."

"Ok," Cheri sighed, slightly nervous. "I'll get the dice."

Cheri went to her room and retrieved a small lockbox with two locks. Twisting both keys, she took out a small wooden tray with the black and white dice rumbling within. The rules were written down inside but by now they had them all memorized. Laura bit her lip. Gwen put on a tough face but it was clear she was nervous too.

Without commentary, Cheri placed the tray with the dice on their coffee table. She picked up the white die and gestured to Laura.

"1 and 2," she said without hesitation.

"5 and 6," Gwen went next. That left Cheri with three and four. To start the game, each girl chose two numbers on a single die, which was then rolled twice. The first roll chose neither the winner nor loser. It just took that girl out of the game. With the next roll, the girl who got her number won, and got to choose their plans for the night. The loser of the second roll was the "victim," who wouldn't be going out at all. The rest of the game merely determined how naughty or nice her night in bondage would be.

Laura rolled the first time. All three watched as the die tumbled around the box, finally landing on a six. Gwen exhaled audibly in relief. It seemed jazz was out of the question, but at least she wasn't the victim. Cheri, impatient, grabbed the die and rolled again. The die ominously read two. Laura giggled with excitement and jumped up from the table. They kept all their bondage equipment in a locked, innocent looking chest along the wall. Opening it, Laura pulled out a short, thick strap.

"Shit," was all Cheri could say. 

"Clubbing ain't looking so bad now, eh?" Gwen laughed. Cheri stood up but Gwen quickly followed and grabbed her by the arms while Laura pressed Cheri's wrists together palm to palm. Cheri's chest, covered only by her towel, rose and fell rapidly.

"Wait, c'mon Laura," Cheri stammered. Her heart was already thumping. "You won, let's just go where you wanted."

"Too late," Laura chucked, wrapping the leather around Cheri's wrists, "We played the Dice Game and you lost. You know the rules."

A small padlock closed on the buckle. Cheri wouldn't be getting her wrists free without the key, which Laura had already stowed safely in the pocket of her jeans. Cheri's towel was already jarring itself loose, but she could no longer adjust it on her body.

"It's just a game, we don't have to..."

"Just saying that cause you lost," Gwen smiled. The victim always immediately had her hands bound precisely so she couldn't back out.

Cheri was set forcefully back onto the sofa, with Laura and Gwen on either side. Pulling at her hands, Cheri began to feel rather trapped. Of course, that excited her, but she tried to hide it behind pursed lips.

Gwen picked up the box and dropped the second black die into it. Round Two required both dice and determined the position Cheri would be bound in as well as how stringent the tie would be. The higher the number on the black die, the tighter Cheri would be bound. On the white, each number corresponded with a position.

"Any bets?" Gwen asked mockingly, "I'm pulling for a 6 myself."

Cheri groaned. Six meant a strappado. Personally, she hoped for a four (chair tie). Gwen had a bad habit of shutting down the bars.

"Whatever works for me," Laura quipped, "I can make anything fun." She easily knew the most about bondage. No one that Laura tied ever escaped.

But, it turned out, Cheri was on the worst losing streak of her life. Laura rolled the white die and it came up two. Fucking two. That meant a hogtie. 

"Oh no," Cheri complained, "Laura, please..."

"Quiet!" Gwen had a rather commanding presence, "Let's see how tight it'll be."

She let the black die tumble into the box. It struck two walls before rolling itself into a rather ominous 6. Gwen and Laura both giggled. 

"Shit!" Cheri yelled. Laura and Gwen could make quite a sadistic pair and the dice basically just told them to go for broke. As tight a hogtie as they could make it. Cheri licked her lips despite herself, thinking about how sore she was likely to be tomorrow.

Cheri was made to lie down on the sofa. A second leather strap bound her ankles so she wouldn't try anything, and Gwen threatened to gag her if she heard even the slightest peep down the hall. After a while, Gwen and Laura both came back dressed to the nines and made up for the clubs. 

"Gwen, Laura, really," Cheri began, "It's the end of the semester, I want to go have fun with you two."

Laura and Gwen just smiled at each other.

"Nope."

"Besides, you're wearing something different tonight," Gwen said wickedly.

Cheri was made to sit on the edge of the couch, hands and feet still bound. Laura laced her into a leather underbust corset while Gwen prepared knee high ballet boots. Cheri started to protest them but another warning from Gwen kept her quiet. When Laura finished they untied Cheri's ankles and wrapped the boots around her ankles. With Laura's help, Cheri was made to stand so her feet sank fully into the toe of the boot while Gwen snaked the laces up the boot as stringently as she could manage. Cheri's heart beat faster thinking how far her friends might go, and whether they'd still be friends in the morning.

"Hmm," Gwen said, looking around, "Coffee table?"

"Naturally!" Laura said merrily, "but don't you think something's missing with this outfit?"

Cheri stood there silently, balancing in her impossibly high heels and stuffed into a tightly laced corset. Breasts and pussy there for anyone to see, what could possibly be missing? she thought sarcastically. The Dice Game, if nothing else, fostered camaraderie among the winners. They bonded by tormenting the victim.

"I know!" Gwen said suddenly. She went over to the chest and pulled out two thin leather straps. Laura held Cheri still while Gwen held one just below Cheri's left breast. Laura instantly looked gleeful but Cheri protested.

Gwen ignored Cheri and wrapped the first strap around the base of the perky orb. Gwen held the leather carefully in place as she pulled the loop tighter until it gripped Cheri's skin and began to squeeze. Cheri groaned as the cinch of the strap made her tit bulge like a balloon, seeming to defy gravity completely. A moment later Cheri's helpless tits jutted out in near perfect spheres, traced by the leather supporting them. Buckling the straps in place, Gwen caressed each magnificent globe for a moment. Cheri gasped sharply. She'd always loved having her breasts played with. Did Gwen know that?

"Much better," Gwen seemed satisfied.

"But..."

"Coffee table, now," Laura warned. Cheri needed help with even the couple steps to the table, and was actually happy to get off her booted feet. That is, until she was made to lie on her stomach. Gwen's hand pressing her downward, Cheri winced as her body weight compressed her newly bound breasts into the table. She tried to protest but another threat of the gag kept her silent. Tossing her hair to one side, she tried to watch what her captors were doing above her.

Laura fetched a leather armbinder and Cheri, much to her chagrin, felt her arms being fit into it. Laura didn't even bother to remove the strap binding Cheri's wrists as she began tightening the laces methodically. Cheri groaned as the soft leather stretched over her like a second skin, forcing her arms and soon her elbows to touch behind her. Once confident that Cheri's arms were welded together behind her, Laura knotted the laces tightly and wove attached leather straps over Cheri's shoulders, pulling them fully back and ensuring the sleeve could not be worked down her arms, as if there was a real chance of that. Each buckle received a padlock. 

Gwen decided to put icing on the cake. Grabbing a stiff strap, she wrapped it around Cheri's elbows and tightened it until there was absolutely no gap between them, depriving Cheri of even the minuscule slack the armbinder provided. Another strap soon wrapped around Cheri's arms and just below her breasts until her arms pressed rigidly against her back. Both were padlocked. Cheri's fears were confirmed: Gwen and Laura were taking that six very seriously. The thought made her quiver but she was already helpless to resist them.

"Jesus, Gwen, don't you think this is a bit much?" Cheri struggled and found her arms completely immobile. 

"Someone's a sore loser," Laura taunted, "and the dice aren't even done yet."

Cheri's eyes widened as the box was placed before her eyes. She was dreading the next roll even more than the last. It determined her "entertainment" for the evening which always meant toys of the vibrating persuasion. Numbers on the white die determined how intense the victim's toys would be, while the black die stipulated how many orgasms she would have (like it or not) during the evening, minus one to keep things interesting. Rolling a six meant five orgasms, five meant four, and so on. Theories varied whether higher or lower numbers were better.

Cheri held her breath while the dice tumbled before her. Turns out it really, really wasn't her day. She would have suspected cheating if she didn't see the roll herself. The white die tumbled into a six while the black settled on one. Maximal stimulation with no orgasm. Cheri cried out indignantly, but Gwen was ready for her.

"No way, this is too much. Ow! Wait, Gwemmmph...NNMPH!" Cheri's last words were cut off as Gwen pulled her head back and shoved an ample ball gag into her mouth. Cheri struggled, wide eyed, as the ball was wedged between her teeth. Gwen clamped a hand over her mouth to keep it in place while the strap was buckled tightly behind her head. A corresponding chin strap soon forced the jet black ball to nestle itself in her jaw. Writhing on her belly, a newly defiant Cheri tugged against her leather-bound arms with all her strength. Laura and Gwen discussed her future without taking notice.

"Wow...these dice have it in for Cheri today," Laura bit her lip nervously.

"Isn't it fun?! The dice say intense tease and denial. Looks like Cheri will have a night to remember," Gwen chuckled. She was far more amused.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm thinking..." Gwen fished through their box of toys and pulled something out. Cheri couldn't see it behind her. "...this. And Mr. Snuggles."

Cheri whined into her gag, but Laura held her down easily. Gwen worked a wide leather chastity belt underneath Cheri's waist, but that wasn't what concerned the bound girl. Mr. Snuggles was Cheri's name for her best vibrator, but that didn't really do the magical device justice. They'd all bought one of these things together as a kind of suicide pact some months ago. Cheri called hers Mr. Snuggles—Laura's was Brutus and Gwen's was Marshall. Whatever the name, each one was an apparatus comprised of two generous vibrating plugs, one long and ridged and another short and bulbous. Another small rabbit-style vibrator jutted out for her clitoris. All three vibrators joined into one large toy designed to be worn with a harness. 

What made Mr. Snuggles truly impressive was the chipset and receiver built into it. Controlled by a deceptively innocent-looking app from Cheri's phone, Mr. Snuggles could be programmed any way Cheri (or in this case, Laura and Gwen) wanted. What's more, it learned. Cheri's reactions to Mr. Snuggles' stimulation, everything from tightening her vaginal muscles around the plugs or shifting her hips, were recorded by sensors inside the toy and used to improve future performance. If she wanted orgasms, Mr. Snuggles knew exactly what kinds of vibration and intensity she liked. If Cheri wanted to be teased and denied, Mr. Snuggles knew exactly how much stimulation made her cum, and the exact moment to stop short and drive her wild. With months and months of data to draw from already, Mr. Snuggles could be rather potent. Normally, Cheri loved this about Mr. Snuggles but without control over it...

Suffice to say, when these monsters had first arrived in the mail, Laura and Cheri had surprised Gwen, tied her spread eagle to her bed, inserting a gag and Marshall. After choosing some random settings, Laura and Cheri left to watch a couple movies. When they came back Gwen was climaxing every twenty minutes like clockwork, just as they had unknowingly set the toy.

With that memory and more in mind, Cheri refused to cooperate when Laura asked where Mr. Snuggles was kept, but Gwen already knew and retrieved it. Cheri looked on apprehensively as Gwen carried the rather well-endowed toy behind her. Cheri struggled as best she could with bound ankles, but Gwen grabbed her hips and lifted until Cheri's genitals were exposed against her will. Laura lubricated Mr. Snuggles and bore down on Cheri menacingly. The toy drew a gasp as its long, ridged center plug parted the lips of her pussy. Laura pressed gently but firmly as several inches disappeared into her victim's hole. Cheri gasped sharper still when the fat conical anal plug reached her ass. Cheri moaned and bucked but despite her protests the plug stretched her until, finally, her ass was allowed to tighten around its base. Laura caringly spread Cheri's labia so that it rested directly on her sensitive clit. Cheri's mounting arousal forced another moan past her lips.

Gwen fed the wide hourglass strap of the chastity belt between her things and pulled as stringently as she could manage, parting Cheri's soft cheeks and thighs with a wedge of stiff leather. Mr. Snuggles pressed inward as Gwen buckled and locked the belt in place, sealing off Cheri's loins completely with the toy buried inside. Only the power cord snaked out from under her, which Laura dutifully took to a nearby outlet specially modified for their bondage games. Plugging in the cord, she then closed a small cage around the plug which was held in place via two small screws. Finished, Laura twirled the screwdriver in her hands, giving Cheri a knowing look.

"I feel better knowing your pussy will be locked up safe and sound all night," Gwen chortled. She rapped a knuckle loudly against the leather cleaving Cheri's thighs. "Now only Mr. Snuggles can play with you."

Cheri exhaled bitterly. Her one secret hope had been that she might be able to reach herself with her bound hands and steal an orgasm. With a chastity belt there was no chance.

The two captors now turned to their victim's legs. Cheri thought briefly about struggling, maybe even trying to run. But it was pointless. She had no leverage and nowhere to go. She'd regret her complacency later.

Cheri's ankles were already bound but new straps soon appeared above and below her knees as well as high on her thighs. Then Cheri felt her legs being bent up behind her until the backs of her ballet boots brushed her wrists and rotund ass. Gwen held them in place while Laura looped a long strap between Cheri's ankle and thigh restraints, cinched it tightly to keep her legs fully bent, then attached the remaining slack to a metal ring on Cheri's armbinder between her shoulder blades. Cheri grunted uncomfortably as the strap tightened, forcing her to model an exquisite and severe hogtie. Shoulders pulled fully back, feet forced against her ass and pulled fully forward by taut straps that would never budge. A small gap appeared below her arms where her back arched. For good measure, Gwen fed yet another strap around the spikes of Cheri's ballet heels and wrapped it around her forearms. Pulling it tight forced Cheri's feet to retain the elegant en pointe position her ballet heels molded.