A Different Ind of Dungeon Master

I know I've teased this a few times, but here it finally is, a follow-up to the mingled tabletop and bedroom roleplay of "A Different Kind of Dungeon Master."

If you haven't read it, all you need to know is that Rachel asked her friend and DM, Seth, to run a sex adventure for her in the style of his TTRPG adventures. They had a great time, but their relationship remains undefined.

In this one, Rachel brings in her friend, Olivia, who she thinks can benefit from Seth's fantastical dom style.

Please note, the BDSM elements are much lighter and switchier in this installment, as Seth gently guides Olivia from brat to a bit of a dom role of her own, at his expense. Expect lots of flirting, teasing, f/f fingering, and both male and female masturbation. Everyone is consenting and, of course, over 18.

***

It had been two weeks since Rachel and I had hooked up, and my streak of missing appropriate windows to talk about stuff had firmly resumed.

Rachel had practically asked me what I wanted, and I hid behind my dice. I'd been in the zone all night, so in tune with her, pushing and pulling just hard enough to keep her fully, ecstatically in the moment. But I still couldn't tell her that I wanted to be more than a friend, and more than a port in a storm. I couldn't get past the terror of what it would mean if she didn't want the same.

Tonight would normally have been game night, but with Cameron gone from our long-term campaign, we hadn't really made a new plan yet. Every time I'd thought about asking Rachel what she wanted to do, or if we were even going to hang out, I'd frozen up over all the other places that conversation might turn once it started.

My phone buzzed while I was busy pitying myself over a solitary bowl of Cheerios.

Rachel

: Can I ask a weird question?

My blood pressure spiked, and I could hear my pulse in my own ears as I answered.

Seth

: Sure, what's up?

Rachel

: So, I was talking to my friend, Olivia, and she's going through kind of a rough time. I hope you don't mind... what you did for me kind of came up. And she was really into it. It's like, she's right where I was a week ago. So, feel TOTALLY free to say no, but if you're into it, I'd love to bring her to you.

This was... none of the possibilities I'd been anticipating.

Rachel wasn't cutting me off, or demanding answers. She was... setting me up? For a date? For a joke? For a chance to say, "No thanks, the way I feel about you and what I want to do to you is kinda non-transferrable"?

Flattering, that she thought I could handle that.

Seth

: Uh, I guess so. Help her roll up a character and send me the details.

Rachel

: Sure. She's super excited.

I stared for a long time at that last message, trying to decipher how

Rachel

felt about it, hoping the next message to pop up under it would clarify. It didn't. It was just a link to a character sheet and brief backstory.

Feeling like I was stumbling through a dream, I opened a blank document, and started cobbling together the pieces of a game.

#

I had snacks, and maps, and lore. I had a moody playlist of Celtic folk instrumentals. I had electric safety candles with flickery plastic flames.

I had

two

beautiful women sitting on my couch, across the gaming table from me, waiting for me to convene the session.

Rachel was looking exceptionally cute with a tailored blazer over her t-shirt and jeans, looking like the charming, rebellious hero of a salaciously inaccurate FBI procedural.

And Olivia... I had to admit, if my brain weren't completely saturated with Rachel, with her smile and her scent and the addictive urge to touch her again the way I had last time, Olivia would definitely have been one of my types.

She had a classical look, and a soft, femme sense of style that contrasted intriguingly with the casual yet powerful way she carried herself, with her long limbs spread wide to fill the space around her.

I took a deep breath.

"You're arriving in the bay of Sinnifree Isle," I narrated. "The ship you've chartered is dropping anchor an inconvenient distance away from the shore. The crew is muttering behind your back about curses while they prepare a rowboat for you. They're not even bothering to hide it from you anymore, how much they don't want to be anywhere near this place. But every clue surrounding the recent disappearances seems to lead back here. As you two are looking out at this stark mound of rock and grass, cottages and standing stones, how about you both tell us who you are and how you're feeling?"

Rachel clapped her hands excitedly together and started.

"Well, I'm playing Arianna Brighton again. I'm a Human, a Rogue, and a spy for my government, mostly against the forces of hell. I'm feeling pretty great. I'm on track. I'm going to find those missing men, and this is where it starts."

Olivia ran her finger across her character sheet.

"I'm... Trippy Carnage. I'm a tife... a teef... one of those part-demon people. And... um... a Sorcerer."

Rachel looked at her expectantly for a while, but Olivia didn't add anything else.

Whatever more there might be of Trippy, it would have to come out through play.

"The people here look on edge," I said. "When they notice your arrival, their expressions range from hostile to guardedly hopeful. You can see an older woman walking away from the center of the village out to the standing stones, and setting down a basket of what looks like--"

"So, there's a tavern, right?" asked Olivia.

"Sure," I pivoted, "no sleepy little island village like this one could get by without the warm embrace of a public house."

"Great, let's grab a drink."

"Both of you?" I asked.

Rachel nodded, watching Olivia out of the corner of her eye, like she was showing her a movie with a gut-punch of a twist and wanted to be sure not to miss a second of her reaction.

As ever, I couldn't help but feel flattered by her faith in me.

"All conversation stops when you walk into the tavern," I described. "This is not a place where strangers are common or easily overlooked. The Minotaur woman behind the bar sets down the glass she was cleaning and asks in a gruff voice, 'What can I do for you?'"

"Woman?" Olivia asked me, like she was expecting me to correct myself for some reason.

"Yeah," I said. "Minotaurs can be women."

"Sure, okay, but the gruff bartender we're going to be pumping for information, you really want them to be... You know what? It's fine. A woman is fine. Good evening, ma'am, nice place you've got here."

"And it'll be a nice line forming behind you," I answered, pitching my voice down to simulate the resonating chambers of a much larger body. "Will you be ordering, or won't you?"

"Is there really a line?" Rachel chimed in.

"Not even a little bit," I said.

"We're actually looking for a place to stay," said Olivia. "While we're sorting out this whole missing persons thing for you guys."

"The proprietress sighs heavily. 'There's a room upstairs,' she says, 'but I'd advise you to turn around and go back where you came from instead.'"

"Nah," said Olivia. "We'll take the room. Only problem is, we can't exactly pay you in gold for it."

"Yes, we can," said Rachel.

"No, we can't," Olivia hissed back, and then unfastened the top button of her silky red blouse. She leaned forward, toward me. "But we can come to some kind of arrangement, right? Even if it means one of us might have to bunk in with... someone else?"

I sighed. "Go on, roll Persuasion."

Olivia rolled her die. To my relief, it came up on a two. We didn't even have to do the math.

I leaned back and crossed my arms. "Just what kind of establishment do you think I'm running here, miss?"

Olivia looked genuinely surprised. "Can't I get, like, what's it called... advantage?"

"You just walked into this woman's bar in a super insular, superstitious town and asked to sleep with her without even asking her name," I summed up. "What part of that would give you advantage?"

A snort escaped from Rachel.

"Okay, fine," Olivia sighed. "Can you just tell me what you know about the whole mystery thing?"

"The proprietress looks completely done humoring you," I said. "She picks her dish rag back up and says, 'Order a drink or get out.'"

"What the fuck?"

"Here, let me talk to her," said Rachel.

#

Rachel took the lead for a while, chatting with the NPCs, following my breadcrumbs around the town, and doing her best to corral Olivia along.

It was bizarre, almost unnatural, to watch my favorite troublemaker having to be the sensible one for once, in the face of a whole different level of trouble.

Olivia hit on

everyone

-- the frightened old widower buying a fresh bouquet of flowers, the shy young florist with dirt under her fingernails, the drunken mayor who blusteringly tried to order them out of his town for prying into their private affairs. And when each character either turned her down or (in the mayor's case) responded with a prohibitively off-putting yes, she ran away, regardless of what else there might yet have been to accomplish, usually breaking something on her way out.

I had to relocate clues on the fly, as Olivia made them impossible to find the way I'd originally intended, but finally, at long last, Rachel put together the essentials.

There was a mysterious power contained within the standing stones, and the mayor was using an ancient artifact to harness it and use it to disappear his rivals and perceived threats. The elders of the village believed the power to be a tortured and restless spirit, and even had a name for him.

Rachel and Olivia, or rather, Arianna and Trippy, hurried to the stone circle, racing to get there before the mayor could gather the supplies he needed to turn the power there against them.

Just as I was beginning to describe their arrival on the site, Olivia got up from her chair and clasped her hands above her head, stretching one shoulder and then the other.

"So," she said. "How long does this part usually go on?"

"What part?" I asked.

"You know, rolling dice, sitting at a table... wearing clothes."

"Four to six hours, plus breaks," I answered, deadpan.

Olivia's eyes widened.

At least I'd been able to get that much of a response out of her on purpose.

I pushed my dice tray to the side and folded my hands.

"What did you come here for?" I asked her.

She sighed and leaned over to page through her character notes.

"No, not Trippy," I stopped her. "You, Olivia, why are you here?"

She paused and looked down to watch her weight shift between her feet. "Rachel told me... she said you could..."

"You came here to get fucked?" I cut right to it.

"I mean... kind of, yeah."

"Is that a difficult thing for you?" I asked. "Is there a shortage of men willing to stick their dicks in you?"

Just looking at her made the next answer obvious enough.

"...Not exactly," she acknowledged.

"So why me? You don't know me. I'm not a model, and I promise you, my dick is no more exceptional than the rest of me. Why do you want it so bad?"

Olivia shrugged. "I just... I got the impression you know what you're doing."

"And you don't?"

This got her to look at me again. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, there's a whole market full of toys designed to help you touch yourself however you want. Some of them can even thrust on their own now. I assume you know your own body and what it likes. If you just want the feeling of getting railed over the edge of a table, you can have that whenever you want."

She got a sulky little look around the corners of her mouth. "It's not the same."

"So, let's be clear, then," I said, leaning a little closer against the table. "You don't want me to fuck you. Not really. Sticking tabs in slots doesn't do it for you, not on its own. You want me to

play

with you. You came here to have a human being look you in the eye, and say, it's okay, you can stop tamping your soul down into that tiny, boring, acceptable box you present to the world. Give me your passion, your wildness, your weird, and I'll hold them for you."

Olivia's eyes were still wide, with a bright shine overtaking them. "Yeah. Something like that."

"Then what do you say you sit the fuck down and pick up the die?"

She sat down.

She picked up her die.

"What was I..." she sniffed and cleared her throat, "what was I supposed to roll again?"

"That depends on what you want to do," I said.

"Right, okay. I guess I want to step into the circle."

Rachel must have been holding her breath as she watched, she was so quiet. I resisted the urge to look at her, and gave Olivia a small smile.

"You can feel a thin membrane of magic stretched between the stones. The air pressure tightens against your eardrums as you cross to the inside. Even with the open sky above you, it's stuffy enough in here that you can feel the push and pull of your own breathing... and something else breathing, too."

"I say... I say... what the fuck was this ghost's name again?"

Her voice wasn't dismissive anymore, just annoyed with herself and the gap in her memory.

"David Thregar," Rachel whispered.

"David?" Olivia called out, looking to the dim ceiling above us, like we were having a séance right here in this room. She moved stiffly, kept hunching and glancing at me and Rachel, like we were about to laugh and reveal this whole evening as a prank on

her

.

I could relate.

But she was shaking it off, like a statue coming to life, reclaiming her confident posture. It was actually pretty hot to watch.

"David, talk to me," she said. "I mean, you

can

talk to me, if you want to."

I took in a slow, wheezing gasp, and answered as David. "Am I in hell?"

"No," said Olivia. "You're still in Sinnifree. I think someone trapped you here."

"But aren't you...?"

I looked to Olivia's forehead, where Trippy's demon horns would be. She clapped her hands to them like she could feel the sharp points, and wished she could hide them.

"No, these are just... I'm material. I'm alive. See?"

She reached out. I took the hand that had been holding my iced coffee and reached it across the table. I just barely brushed the very tips of her fingers with my half-frozen ones, and then pulled away again. She actually shivered.

"What's going to happen to me now?" I whispered.

"We're here to help you leave," said Olivia. "Is that what you want?"

I shivered a little too. "I think so. I don't think I did anything worth sending me somewhere worse than this. But it's hard to remember."

"What

do

you remember?" she asked.

I thought for a bit. Or rather, I tried to look like I was thinking, while I actually searched Olivia's face, the hints in Rachel's text messages, every trace of what might have brought this stranger to my table tonight.

"I thought I had someone," I said softly. "I thought I could see the future, for just a moment. I saw our whole life, and she said she saw it too. But she didn't. In fact, she didn't see me having a future at all."

Olivia took a long breath. "I know how hard that can be."

I blinked. "You do?"

Her hand was still on the table. I wrapped mine around it. My fingers were still cold, but she squeezed them like they were the one thing that could keep her from tumbling into the abyss.

"My last boyfriend was a musician-- I mean, a bard," said Olivia. "I saw a future too. He went on tour, um, a tour of the realm, and I was so happy for him. I stayed up late every night to talk to him. And then the talks stopped happening. Until the last one. The one where he told me I was an anchor around his neck. And that he was tired of feeling guilty about all the amazing sex he was having."

The rest of her breath escaped in a rush after those last few words. She tried to make it sound like a laugh.

I squeezed her hand back. "I'm so sorry."

"It's... yeah, it sucked." She shook her head, refocused on me. "Never mind. It's not like he killed me. I'm guessing that's what happened to you? What else do you remember? Anything about exactly what she did? How you ended up here?"

I looked to the side, like I was chipping my way through an icy cavern of memory. Then, before speaking, I looked right at her. "Well, I remember I was a virgin sacrifice."

Olivia blanched, then slowly broke into a grin. I could see the relief all over her body, softening her cheeks and her shoulders, as she realized that I was still leading this, slowly, in the direction she was hoping for.

"Oh." The grin lingered, became a coy little smile. "So, if you weren't a virgin, then the magic trapping you here wouldn't work anymore? No one could use you to hurt people anymore?"

"I guess not. But isn't that a little hard to change, if my body's dead in the ground?"

Olivia leaned her cheek against her other hand. "Could you use

my

body?"

"Maybe." I lightened my touch and ran my fingers along her wrist. I could feel myself warming toward her temperature. "Would you let me possess it, for a little while?"

"Yes," said Olivia.

Rachel made a muffled squeaking sound into her own clasped hands.

"Really? Just like that?" I asked.

"Really, get in me." Olivia laughed. I smiled with her. It did nothing to break the tension.

"You'll have to stay with me for this." I put my other hand around the one of hers I was holding, squeezing it tighter. "You can't just disappear while I borrow you. There have to be two souls involved, or it's just..."

"Masturbation," said Olivia.

I let myself blush. It wasn't difficult. All I had to do was stop fighting it.

"You feel a cool breeze under your skin," I switched to my narrator voice. "A sad, sweet presence seeps into you, tinged with loneliness that lifts as it mingles with you. David's specter remains in front of you. He's not moving into you so much as expanding to share the space you inhabit."

Olivia shivered lightly. Goosebumps spread across her arms.

"So," I said, as David once again. "How do we start?"

Olivia leaned forward to touch my face, and, I think, to kiss me. I leaned away. "Your fingers can only feel a whisp of a cool surface, before passing through him," I described. "He's even less solid outside of you than he was before, now that he's anchored to the solidness of you."

Olivia looked at her hand, the one I wasn't holding, and ran it over her own neck.

"Mmm," I sighed, like it was the first time I'd been touched in decades. I mirrored her, touching my own neck. "That feels so good."

She walked her fingers down a little lower, twisted them into the neck of her blouse, and looked at me questioningly.

I hooked my fingers into the neckband of my t-shirt, and tugged it over my head.

Our clasped hands separated for only a second, while we tossed the shirts to the floor, and then sprang back together.

She took a moment to rake her eyes over my chest, and I took the opportunity to do the same to her. She was surprisingly muscular under her flowing clothes. She unfastened her bra. The round softness of her breasts stood out against the harder lines of the rest of her, and part of me wanted to touch them with my own hands. But I'd cooked up this ghost scenario just for her, and I was going to stick to it.

She ran her fingers down and over her nipple, which hardened effortlessly. I mirrored that too. I walked my fingers down farther, along with her. We slipped them under our waistbands together.

I couldn't see her below the table, so I just kept watching her face, waiting for that first little spasm of sensation. When I saw it, I took in a sharp gasp myself, and ran my fingers along the underside of my cock. The gasp was just theater at first, but I felt myself swell in response, and a surprisingly sharp stab of pleasure ran upward through me. It was like the forces of cause and effect within my body had rearranged themselves.