Breeding the Gamemaster

It was 8:47pm in

The Witch's Codex

, the smallish comic book and gaming shop stuffed into a side street in a mid-sized East Coast college town. Laina, taking a sip of a late night coffee ("black, just like my ledger", she liked to joke) surveyed the nerds who had assembled for her weekly tabletop roleplaying game.

"Eenie, meenie, miney...hmmm," she said, kissing the lipstick stain on the asylum-white rim of the cup Donnie had brought her. She heard angry swearing and muttering by the comic shelves up at the front, and a wicked smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

"Mo..." she said, taking a sip of the burning black gold in her cup. It was too hot to enjoy -- hotter than she would drink if it was just her on her own -- but she had a reputation to uphold.

"What's going on...

Nick

," she said casually, with a bit of a flirty weight on one of her best customer's names.

"It's just...grrr...it's just..." Nick -- short, chubby, hairy, balding, and pretty much always angry -- was rage-flipping through the latest issue of

Under Osiris

. He looked at her, his anger temporarily protecting him from the intense, green-eyed gaze that Laina had turned on him.

"Have you read this...this

crap

?" he said.

"Not yet," Laina replied in a sultry voice, maintaining solid eye contact as she took another sip from her cup.

"Well, they have completely retconned...I'm sorry,

violated

...the, the Jimson run back in '12, which was a continuation of the Blood River Arc from '04 to '06, which established..."

Laina nodded slowly, pretending as if she actually cared about the character history of one of her least favorite comics. Instead of pondering Nick's aggravated critique, she thought about how very much he enjoyed sucking on a pacifier and being held over her knees as she spanked his hairy ass. Instead of his longwinded rant, she heard the squeals he often made while orgasming, usually from rubbing himself against the silk of her thigh-highs.

"...like seriously, right?" Nick said, finishing up with an incredulous look and gesture.

"Oh I don't know," Laina said coyly. "Don't you think you're being a bit of a

baby

about all of this?"

It took a moment for Nick to recognize the look that Laina was giving him, and then another to remember all of the pacifier sucking, ritualized spankings, and occasional diaper wearing that she had "forced" upon him. His face, already red beneath his dark, scruffy beard, turned almost purple. He looked fearfully over Laina's shoulder at the other patrons in the shop, but the owner shook her head.

"Shh," she said softly, dimpling her lips with the edge of her index finger.

Nick swallowed hard, then looked back down at the now wrinkled comic in his hand.

"I guess you're paying for that, huh?" Laina said. Defeated, Nick nodded miserably, and the shop owner turned her attention to her next victim.

Leaning over a glass display case containing decks, sets, and individual items from a popular trading card game, Lars shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. Laina watched his dance with a good amount of internal glee. The guy was tall, skinny, and decent-looking, with the type of shoulder-length blond hair that was more or less a standard feature on a death metal bassist -- which he was. He was also smart, funny in a dry way, and had a quiet, yet calming confidence wherever he went.

A confidence that immediately disappeared every three weeks or so, when Laina would summon him to her apartment, lube him up, and then peg him until he squealed and shuddered through two or three slow-oozing sissygasms.

"Thinking of building a new deck?" Laina said at his elbow.

Lars snapped upright, almost as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have. He flashed a weak smile.

"But why would I, when I've got such an amazing losing streak going?" he said. There was a thin sheen of sweat darkening the roots of his hair along his forehead.

Laina laughed. "It's true," she said. "You wouldn't want to shake things up, now that you've got everyone right where you want them."

She took a step closer to him, enjoying his wide-eyed stare and the jump of his

Adam's apple as he swallowed hard. "And speaking of having someone where you want them..." she purred, "how does that plug feel?"

As if on cue, Lars shifted from one foot to the next. He chuckled nervously.

"It...uh...it's big," he said at last.

"Oh, I know," Laina said, feigning sympathy. She leaned closer, continuing in a sultry whisper. "But my toy is even bigger. So...stick with the regimen, huh? I wouldn't want to send you the doctor's office...again..."

Again, the Adam's apple jiggled.

"Yes ma'am," he said. Laina winked, then turned and headed towards the gaming table in the back. Along the way, she found Donnie down on one knee, tying the laces on one of his oversized sneakers. With her non-coffee hand, she buried her hand in her messy brown hair, still red at the tips from a fun Halloween costume a year back, and stuck out her chest.

"Hey there, big boy," she said in a 1940s bombshell type voice, perfectly imitating a buxom cartoon character that she knew he had a deep-seated fetish for. "Are you proposing to me or what?"

"Oh! N-n-no, no," Donnie said, immediately getting to his feet. "I was just tying my shoe."

Laina raised an eyebrow at him. "Well ya did a bang up job of it...daddy-oh." She deliberately emphasized the

daddy

, enjoying how it made the six-foot-six gentle giant squirm.

"Oh, ha, ha, yeah," Donnie said.

Laina let him stew in his own awkwardness for a few seconds. Then she nodded towards his sneaker.

"Well aren't you going to tie it?" she asked innocently, finally dropping the bombshell accent as well as her hair.

"Oh, yeah, right, ha ha," Donnie said, getting back down on his knees. Laina took another sip of her coffee.

"Mm, that's right," she said, stepping past him. She paused, allowing her free hand to just gently run through his hair. She briefly grabbed it by the roots, her motion so smooth and natural that only somebody who was actually watching her and waiting for her to do that would have noticed her touch him.

"Kneel for your queen," she said. He mewled like a sick cat, likely remembering all of the times that she had grabbed his hair in the same way and pulled him in to lick her, his blindfold firmly affixed to his face...

And then Laina was past him. She smirked, thinking of how she liked to ride him once she was finished with his mouth -- with him still unable to see, and barely able to feel her through the thick condom filled with numbing cream. She always bit down on her hand to keep from moaning as she came, and she always sent him away with his good-sized cock still stiff as he stuffed it into his jeans.

"Hey, Sawyer," she said, finally reaching the table. "What's up, buddy?"

Sawyer -- dorky, pale, and just on the legal side of eighteen -- looked up from his phone.

"Hi Laina," he said. "Not much." He looked back down at his phone, adjusting his thick glasses as he peered at his texts. Laina checked the digital clock at the top of the display. 8:57pm. Just about go time.

She stretched, thrusting her large chest forward, allowing the second button of her shop-branded black polo shirt to pop open. When Sawyer didn't even glance at the display of cleavage a mere foot away from his face, Laina smiled. She knew why he was nervously checking his phone. She knew why he was more afraid about what he was -- or possibly

wasn't

-- finding there than to be excited about seeing the soft curves that were barely contained by her shirt.

"Is your cousin going be here on time?" she asked, looking down and pretending to pull some lint off of her chest. She saw him look up, and for a moment his lust overcame his fear.

But his fear quickly returned.

"Of course," he said, trying to feign confidence. Then he realized how obviously he was lying. "I mean, I think so."

"You think so?"

"He said he's going to be late," Sawyer said sheepishly. "But he said he'll bring the pizza!"

"You know the penalty for being late to my game," Laina replied coldly. It was 8:59pm, and almost as if on cue the other three patrons took their seat at the table -- Lars moving a little more carefully than the rest of them.

"I...I know, I explained it to him. I'm sorry, he's never played before-"

"And it was kind of me to allow him to join our group for the evening, wasn't it?" Laina said.

"Very kind, mistr-" terrified, Sawyer realized that the table was full, and it wasn't just the two of them anymore.

"Ten dollars for every fifteen minutes that he's late," she said. "You can pay it or he can, I really don't care."

She leaned back. 9:00pm. Time to begin.

"Welcome, boys," she said, "to the Friday night game. You all have your tributes, I trust?"

Each of the men around the table pulled out their wallets and handed over thirty dollars in cash. Sawyer gave an extra thirty for his cousin...then sheepishly added a pair of tens to his total.

"Just in case," he winced. He took one last look at his phone, sighed, and put it away.

"Very good," Laina said. She folded up the bills, then slowly stuffed the wad in her bra, revealing as much breast as she could without flashing any nipple. After all, they didn't deserve to see

everything

...

Laina held back a chuckle. She couldn't help but wonder how much longer she would stick with the shop before deciding to go the fully digital, big tiddy-goth-egirl-financial domme route.

"Just a little longer," she said out loud. Then, realizing that she had spoken, she shifted gears.

"Just a little longer, is how your survival is looking after last week's adventures in the catacombs of Dez'noth. Where we saw-"

She was interrupted by the

clunk

of somebody attempting to open up the locked front door. Everyone at the table turned to look at the stranger at the glass, holding a stack of pizzas in one hand and a plastic bag with sodas and cups in the other.

"Go let your cousin in," Laina said to Sawyer haughtily. "And lock the door behind him."

Sawyer jumped up, stumbled over his chair, then stumbled over his feet as he made his way to the front door. He opened it and a blast of cold air flowed into the shop so quickly it even reached the table in the back, making everyone shiver. Laina could feel her nipples harden up, and internally she grinned. It would give the guys something else to thirst over as they started the game...and serve as a good test for the newcomer.

She reached up and gave her nipples a quick pinch while everyone remained watching the door, ensuring they would stay hard. Her breath caught in her throat -- sometimes, it was easy to forget how sensitive they could be in her own hands. Fortunately, her gasp was covered by the sound of the bells as the front door was shut and locked.

"What's up, Whitewash?" the new guy said to Sawyer, flashing his smaller, geekier cousin a big smile.

"I...really hate when you call me that," Sawyer replied, taking the bag away from the stranger. The pair of them approached the table, giving Laina time to assess this newcomer that had entered her sanctuary.

He was tall -- not as tall as Donnie, who was a minor freak at six foot six -- but he was at least six-three, if not six-four. He was dressed in sharp, yet unassuming grays and blacks, and with a little bit of burgundy in his scarf and the inside lining of his coat. His glasses had the thick black frames she associated with geeky hipsters, but his sandy brown hair was teased up in one of a half-dozen standard fuckboy styles.

Laina's handed drifted unconsciously to the thick silver ring she wore on a black choker around her neck. He was good-looking, no question about it. And he had an air of quiet confidence, not dissimilar to Lars, that Laina really,

really

wanted to penetrate.

"Let's see," he said, putting the pizzas down on a nearby table that Sawyer had cleaned off for him. One by one, he pointed to each of the people around the table.

"Nick. Lars. Big Donnie. And you, of course, are-"

"Laina," she said, hooking her finger in her collar ring and tugging slightly. This time, the move was deliberate. She liked to use the collar to draw guys in -- making them think about all the things that they'd want to do to her if they could get her on a leash -- not realizing, of course, that they were the ones who were about to be led wherever Laina wanted them to go.

But the newcomer seemed completely unfazed by the move. "Laina, of course. Absolutely. I'm Brian," he said, turning his attention back to the group at large. "Thanks for letting me play tonight. Whitewash here told me you like pizza, and I brought a couple of different kinds so please...dig in."

Four pairs of eyes sneaked glances over at Laina, all of them wondering if it was okay to delay the game in order to shuck down some 'za. She paused for a moment, regarding Brian with a cool stare as she continued to stroke the silver ring at her neck. He looked at her, then at everyone else, his face breaking out into a goofy grin that had just a smidge of arrogance in it that really rubbed her the wrong way...and that she would really enjoy training out of him.

"I don't eat pizza," Laina said.

"Yeah, Whitewash told me," Brian replied, putting another bag on the table that she hadn't realized he was carrying. "Which is why I got you a tofu stir fry from Mama Chen's. I hear it's your favorite."

"Did he also tell you-"

"That you like three packets of soy sauce, chopsticks, chips on the side with duck sauce, and to ask for the two-chili stir fry instead of just what's on the menu. Girl, of course. I might not have ever played

Oubliettes & Oni

before, but I know how to order food."

She thought about tearing into him for referring to her as "girl" in the establishment that she owned. She, the queen of the nerds, who had every man who came into her store groveling at her feet within minutes, couldn't allow for such disrespect to go unpunished...

But...the thought of Mama Chen's tofu stir fry overrode her desire to test the newcomer with her bitchiness. Besides, they had the next three hours together...more than enough time for her to start digging her needle-claws into his brain.

"Well that's very sweet of you, Brian," she said. The group let out a collective, if silent, sigh of relief. She got up and made her way over to the table where the food was, and the rest of them took their cue from her to go and get their own.

"And I like the attention to detail," she said. "Very nice."

"Yeah, I've always been pretty anal about stuff like that," Brian said, stepping to the side so that Nick could snag a paper plate and the first few slices of pepperoni from the top box.

"That's funny," Laina said, fixing him with a cool stare. "I've always been into anal." She almost could hear Lars's sphincter tighten around the silicon stuffed in there.

Once again, Brian was unfazed, laughing instead of blushing, or choking on his own saliva, or getting the hungry, wide-eyed look that so many other men did before finding out what she

really

meant by that statement.

"Okay," he said, then turned to Sawyer. "Whitewash, you having any?"

"Of course," Sawyer said, still annoyed. "But please, you've got to stop calling me that."

"Yeah, why does he call you...what was it, 'Whitewash'?" Nick asked through a mouthful of melted cheese and hot dough.

Brian opened his mouth to respond, but before he could Laina spoke for him.

"It's from Mark Twain," she said. Then, seeing the blank looks in her direction, she sighed. "

The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

? Tom is supposed to whitewash his aunt's fence, but he tricks the other boys in the town into not only doing it for him, but

paying

him for the privilege."

The others, chewing thoughtfully, still had no idea what she was saying. She pointed to Brian's bespectacled cousin. "Sawyer...Tom Sawyer...Whitewash. Don't you

bitches

read anything that doesn't have pictures in it?"

At the word "bitches", each member of the group -- except for Brian -- wilted, caught in the sweet spot between horniness and shame that Laina strove to keep them in.

"Impressive," Brian said. "Not many people could put that together." He actually did seem impressed, rather than condescending, and yet somehow even

that

rubbed Laina the wrong way.

"Of course, it's also because Sawyer here is pale as fuck," Brian said, putting a hand on his cousin's shoulder. Everyone laughed, and even Laina allowed a quiet grin to tug on the corner of her mouth. She put the first forkful of tofu and vegetables between her lips, and that annoyed her even more...because it was fucking

delicious

, and this charming, kinda hot guy had not only brought her some of her favorite food, he seemed completely immune to her opening salvo of seduction.

"So you've really never played before?" she asked.

"Mm. Never.

Sawyer

here," he said, "explained some of what's going on. I'll probably be more of an observer, but as long as everyone's okay with helping explain a few things here and there-"

"Well, just don't distract the group," Laina interrupted. She thought about all the things she was going to do to this guy who, for no real reason she could put a finger on, was digging further and further beneath her skin with every second of his presence.

"I've got a few pre-mades you can choose from," she said, handing over four pairs of paper, each stapled, with complicated looking boxes and runes drawn all over them. "I'm assuming

Whitewash

here didn't walk you through creating a tenth-level character."

Sawyer's cheeks flushed at the nickname. "No, I figured it would just be too confusing for a first-time player-"

"Yes, we're lucky I keep a few characters on ice," Laina replied. She watched Brian as he flipped through the character sheets, an intense look on his face as he examined stats, skill blocks, and inventory lists. He dug a finger into the patch of skin beneath his nose, pulling down his top lip into a funny-looking face without realizing it.

Laina wanted to lock his dick up in a chastity cage for a month and forget about him.

"This one, I think," he said, separating one packet from the others and returning the rest to Laina. "Gildoyle. A smallfolk thief."

"Hrm," Laina said, noncommittaly. In truth, the group needed someone with the thief's skillset. Someone who could disarm dungeon traps, gather information around town, and sometimes get their hands on things through less-than-fully-ethical means.

Unfortunately, as a new player, she didn't expect him to

actually

be able to contribute in any meaningful way.

She checked a few of her notes, especially some hard to find ones in regards to the character he'd picked, smirked, and took another bite of her stir fry. It was still delicious. And she was still planning on finding a way to force Brian to shave his legs and balls bare, then squeeze him into too-tight pink and white striped thigh-high socks.

"So," she said, "while we eat, who wants to do the recap of last week's game?"

Three hours of play passed, by which point Laina had fully lost her patience with Brian. He was, she had found, like the proverbial sand that slipped into the oyster's shell...except that instead of a producing a pearl, he drilled a sand-grain-sized hole right through the oyster's brain.

He'd hung back at the start of the game, seeming to take his time in adjusting to the roleplaying and dicerolling. But bit by bit, he began to contribute. He asked really important questions of the townsfolk that Laina had populated her imaginary world with. He helped the group find the map to the Dungeons of Beelix, then found them a guide who could take them there. Once in the dungeon, he'd disarmed a good half-dozen traps designed to weaken the party before they were to face off against the dungeon's big, bad-ass boss. He made great use of his stealth and sneak attack skills in combat, positioning the little plastic figurine representing his smallfolk thief in the best places to inflict maximum damage. He ultimately solved every single puzzle that Laina had designed and set before the group -- but he did it by holding back and pretending not to have already intuited the answer, giving other people the chance to try their own solutions, and then suggesting his own and making it feel like the triumph had been a group effort.