The Friday Night Card Club

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.

*****

This story starts slow because it takes a bit of setting up. After the slow start, however, it becomes an intense session of semi-non consensual female-female, masturbation, spanking, electro-punishment, rug munching, and mechanical bull riding.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2019 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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The Friday Night Card Club has been a staple of life at the Westhill Country Club for over seventy years. The criteria for membership are simple. You have to be a member of the country club. You have to be invited to join. You have to be a woman. And, most importantly, you have to be willing to abide by all of the rules of the Card Club.

The first rule of Card Club is:

NOBODY

talks about Card Club.

The Friday Night Card Club meets at the old club house located at what is now the back of the golf course. Before the interstate came through and cut off Country Club Road, that was the main entrance to the Westhill. Now there isn't even a frontage road on that side of the property and all traffic comes in from the county highway on the north side. The highway department would have torn the clubhouse down, but it was far enough away from the road and close enough to the river that it ended up almost under the approaches to the new bridge but out of the way- and even out of sight- of the highway. That section of the river is no good for fishing, so nobody goes back there anymore. The oldest portion of the old building has been torn down, but the newer hall, which had been added to the old building, still remains and is sometimes rented out for special occasions... except on Friday nights.

The second rule of Card Club is:

NOTHING

is more important than Card Club.

Some of the women in the Card Club are very young- in their early twenties; some are older- thirty-nine and holding; but all of them are rich... very rich... old money rich. And their Friday night sessions are more than cards. This is the regular meeting of "The Westhill Good Ol' Girls Club." Plans are made and deals are completed. Careers are made or destroyed. This innocuous little club is the center of power for Westhill... and for the state... and beyond. So, the meeting of the Westhill Friday Night Card Club is sacrosanct. It takes a very good excuse to miss a Card Club night.

The third rule of Card Club is:

ALL

debts are settled before the night is over.

When you are rich... very rich... old money rich... money is literally no object. Multimillion dollar deals are sealed with a handshake. What then is a few hundred or even a few thousand that might be won or lost on a game of cards? Over time, other things more precious than money- like pain or dignity- came to take the place of cash in the game.

Two wheels are spun each Friday night. One at the beginning of the night and one at the end- well, at the end of the card game itself. The first wheel determines the game. The second determines the forfeit. Like life itself, it only matters if you win or lose. Coming in second gains you nothing and almost losing means only that you didn't win. The forfeit is from the loser to the winner- or at least controlled by the winner- and is witnessed by the entire club.

At one time there was an actual wooden wheel with six numbers on it which was spun by the chairwoman of the club. Now there are virtual wheels on the same computer that calculates the final scoring. The game wheel has six choices: bridge, euchre, pinochle, rummy, canasta, and poker. Those are old card games, but the Card Club has been playing cards for well over half a century. The forfeit wheel also has six choices: money, self-abuse, spanking, electro-punishment, rug munching, and riding the bull. Some of those choices are obviously much newer.

The severity of each forfeit is determined by how badly you lose. There is a formula in the scoring program that adds together how far behind the winner the seven losers finished. An average is determined and the loser's score is converted to a loss ratio relative to the average. If you lose by less than twice the average, your score is one. If you lose less than three times the average, but more than twice the average, your score is two. And so on. After the wheel has determined the forfeit, a small table appears on the computer screen with the severity of your forfeit highlighted in bold.

The losers always hope for cash being the forfeit. In this club, even if you lose badly, the cash amount is trivial. Remember, when you are rich... very rich... old money rich... ten thousand dollars- the maximum cash loss- is just a pleasant night out. Thus the money spot on the wheel is effectively a pass on the forfeit. The one in six chance is much better than the chances in real life, but the cash spot on the wheel reflects the reality of life that sometimes- even when you lose badly- cash can help you can find a way out of your problems. If money comes up, the amount goes into the club treasury to help with the sundry expenses of the club, including the upkeep on the old building.

The fourth rule of Card Club is:

EIGHT

is the perfect number.

Eight women started the Friday Night Card Club. The number has always been eight, never more, never less. Only if someone moves away or dies or becomes enfeebled does an opening come up in the club. Then new members are proposed by the current members of the club. After much discussion and several votes, a new member is chosen. None of the charter members are still alive. None of the second generation of members are still active. Only one of the third generation is still an active member. But the club remains at eight members.

Harriet Buchanan is a great-granddaughter of one of the charter members. Her mother was never invited to join, but she was. At age twenty-two, she was one of the youngest members ever invited, and she has been a member for twelve years. That makes her... twenty nine... or at least that's the age she always gives if asked.

Harriet has one very irritating habit. She is always late. By the time she arrives, everything is set up, drinks are poured, and the other seven are waiting for the first spin to tell them which card game they are playing for the evening.

She says that her lateness on Friday night balances out her having to be an hour early for the Wednesday Afternoon Bridge Club. That club was started by her mother when it became obvious that she was never going to be invited to Friday nights. It is strictly for playing bridge. They even use the American Contract Bridge League system for keeping score and the members can earn something called "Masters Points." Each table has a small input pad that is connected to a scoring program that is kept on the same computer as is used on Friday night. Harriet has to come an hour early on Wednesdays to make sure the tables are all set up and the bidding and scoring cards are all properly in place.

Tonight, she was running her customary five to ten minutes late. "Oh," she said in a surprised voice as she stepped through the door. "Do we have a meeting of some sort tonight?"

What caused her surprise was the fact that all the women were sitting around a single, oversized circular table. It was one of those intended for conferences where four narrow, curved tables push together to form a circle, leaving a big hole in the center. Only three of the tables were set up, so it formed a giant C with the seven women sitting around the outside and a single empty chair sitting in the opening facing the seven.

"Sit down," Margaretta Collins said cooly.

"In the chair of honor," Dolores Roberts added, pointing to the single chair in the opening of the 'C'.

"Is there a problem?" Harriet asked calmly. "Have I done something wrong?"

"That's what this meeting is going to determine," Judy Johnson said flatly. She then opened the laptop that held the wheel and scoring software.

"If this is about the screen getting damaged," Harriet said defensively, "I said I would pay for that repair. It was my fault. I accidentally closed the screen with my keys sitting on the keyboard."

She pointed at Loni Davidson and said, "You even said that your husband could repair it so we wouldn't have to remove all the software before taking it out to a repair shop."

"Oh," Loni replied softly, "my husband did repair it. Then he checked if everything worked. He knows about our little club but doesn't ask questions. After he repaired things, he checked that our programs ran correctly. Then he checked that your bridge programs ran correctly. And being the thorough man that he is, he rechecked our programs before shutting down the computer."

She nodded and Judy pressed the key that would spin the forfeit wheel. It came up with the cash forfeit.

"He found something very funny," Loni continued. She once more nodded to Judy and Judy again spun the wheel. Again it came up

Cash

.

"It seems," Loni said very firmly, "that as long as one of the little scoring tablets is turned on, the wheel will always come up with a cash forfeit."

"In the past four years," Mandy Williams said harshly, "you have lost nine times."

"You really aren't that good a card player," Margaretta said, shaking her head. "I wonder if you had some help with that, too."

"We know you didn't cheat at cards," Loni said firmly, looking over at Margaretta. " But each time you have lost, the forfeit was cash."

"Don't you find that odd?" Dolores asked.

"Not quite as odd," Judy said, reaching for and opening Harriet's purse, "as having an extra key fob on your key ring that emits the same rf signal as the little pads."

Judy turned off the scoring tablet and held down the button on the key fob while she again spun the forfeit wheel. It displayed a cash forfeit. She spun it three more times and each time it came up cash.

"We believe that you have been cheating the forfeit wheel for at least the past four years," Judy said harshly as she tossed the keyring back to Harriet. "What do you have to say for yourself?"

"It was sort of an accident... at first," Harriet said softly. "We had a string of four or five weeks in a row where the forfeit was cash. During that same time, I discovered that every week one of the tablets had a dead battery because it wasn't shutting off properly. I took the battery out to make sure the defective one was off and the next forfeit was a spanking."

She looked around the room and continued in a very strained voice. "I didn't hack anything. I didn't corrupt the program. It just does that... and I made the connection." She remained very quiet for an almost uncomfortably long time and then said in a very fast voice. "Then I bought a universal key fob and trained it to imitate the scoring tablet."

Lois Brookman, the chairwoman of the club who was sitting in the first chair, started laughing. It was a deep, slow laugh. Everyone turned to look at her as she sighed deeply and looked directly at Harriet. "Well done," she said. "You saw a weakness in the system and exploited it to your advantage."

She took a loud, deep breath in through her nostrils and then continued. "If it were a business dealing, we would applaud you." Then her voice became deeper and more firm, "But it was against us. It was against our club! So I'm afraid that, for the first time in our history, we may have to vote on possible expulsion."

"No, NO!" Harriet almost screamed. "I'll never do it again."

"But you already did it," Judy said harshly. "... for four years."

"Then I'll make up for what I did," Harriet replied.

Turning to Lois she said frantically, "Isn't there some way I can pay a fine or something?"

"Money can't buy your way out of this," Lois said slowly, "but if you were to redo those forfeits and then pay a penalty... we might reconsider."

Harriet looked around the table. "But there are nine forfeits," she stammered out. "You can't expect me to do nine forfeits tonight?!" Her voice almost squeaked as she added, "... Can you?"

"And then there is the penalty." Judy said firmly. "For four years you played us as lowly fools. I think four years of being a lowly fool should make up for that."

"What do you mean?" Harriet asked. There was a touch of fear in her voice.

"She means," Lois said in that authoritative way she used when running the city council meetings downtown, "that you will be our naked slave for four years. Your clothing will come off when you arrive- at least a half hour early- and you will remain naked throughout the game. You will be the one to serve drinks and snacks to the other players during the game, and afterwards, you will clean up before putting your clothes back on to leave."

"Naked?" Harriet asked, looking shocked.

"Nothing," Judy replied, "not even your precious jewelry."

"If I take off my smart watch," Harriet said softly, "it will send out an alarm to my husband. He'll think something happened to me or I had some sort of car accident."

"Or more likely he would think you were in someone's bed and it was on the nightstand," Marcia Wordsworth said with a laugh. "Then you would have to make it up to him." She tried to lower her eyebrows to stare sarcastically at Harriet, but her Botox prevented that much movement of her forehead. So she said as sarcastically as she could, "How many blow jobs would that require?"

"No," Harriet replied hastily. "We both have them and they are set to alarm if I fall hard or get in an accident or..." She hung her head. "... take it off."

"OK," Lois said, "naked except for your smart watch... for four years. And tonight you do seven forfeits."

Harriet looked confused. The faces of the other women at the table- except for Marcia- showed a mixture of confusion and anger.

Lois smiled around the table and said, "There are seven of us. Besides, since cash would have come up once in six times we should give her one... or two... cash forfeits. But we will disregard any cash forfeits that come up on the wheel tonight." Her smile turned back to Harriet as she added, "... just in case she has some other way of rigging the wheel."

Harriet sat looking at the floor for a long time. Finally she stood up and said, "OK." Then she started taking off her clothes.

"I assume the naked fool routine starts tonight," she said as she slowly folded her clothes and set them on the counter. Stepping out of her shoes and turning back to the women in the circle she asked flatly, "Can I get anyone something to drink?"

"I'll have a Manhattan," Lois said, "easy on the vermouth." The other women added their requests and Harriet padded naked over to the bar to fill their orders.

Once everyone had a drink in front of them, Lois looked around the table and said, "For this first spin, I will be considered the winner." She slowly waved her arm as she pointed around the table, "After that, it will move around the table." She chuckled and said, "This is one night where everyone- except for poor Harriet- will be a winner."

Her voice then became very firm as she pointed at the computer and said, "Press the button and spin the wheel, Harriet."

Harriet stepped back into the middle of the circle and pressed the proper key. The screen flickered as the wheel spun. An artificial clicking sound came from the speakers as the different forfeits flashed past. Then with a loud "Ding!" it stopped and displayed

Self Abuse

in big white letters against a red background.

Harriet's shoulders slumped. She hated all of the forfeits, but this one even moreso because it was so degrading.

"I think you might as well place the mat in the center of the circle," Lois said flatly.

"Yes, ma'am," Harriet answered as she went to retrieve the wide, thick, yoga mat reserved for this forfeit.

"Oooh," Dolores said, looking at the computer screen. "She's at level three. That means three orgasms." She looked around the table and said, "The most I've ever had to do was two." Dolores was not a good card player and often lost, especially if the game were poker. Her thin face showed all her thoughts. And right now, she was wishing that she was lying on the mat in the center of the circle.

"We are using her actual standings from the last seven times she spun the wheel," Loni said brusquely. "My husband printed out the scores from those nights."

Harriet bent slightly to roll out the extra wide yoga mat. As she was lowering herself to the floor, Dolores said loudly, "Remember, it's level three."

"Thanks," Harriet replied weakly. "I'll remember that."

"And you should be facing the other way, honey," Mandy said. "We want to be able to see your face

AND

your twat."

"Yes, ma'am," Harriet said as she turned on the mat so her legs were inside the open center of the 'C' while her upper body was outside. She knew that this meant that everything she did to herself would be very visible to all seven women.

"No time like the present," she said softly to herself as she lay on her back with her legs bent and slightly spread. Understandably, she was totally dry.

"I see the collar and cuffs still match," Mandy said dryly. "I owe Lois twenty bucks. She said you didn't dye your hair and I said you did."

Trying to ignore the comments from the table, Harriet reached up with her spread fingers and rhythmically bounced them against her nipples as if they were the spokes of a wheel. Her repeated pattern up and down soon had an effect and her nipples began to perk up and stiffen.

She cupped her hands so she was now running the top side of her fingers over her nipples. She hadn't consciously intended it, but she could feel that her fingers were striking harder and harder against her now very sensitive nubs.

"I see moisture," a voice said from above. That caused Harriet to break the rhythm of her hands. After a short pause and a deep breath, her hands returned to her nipples only this time they weren't wheel rubbing. Instead her fingers were pinching and twisting and pulling.

A soft "aaaaaah" slipped from her lips as both hands crushed a nipple between a thumb and the side of the index finger. Her thumbs pressed and rubbed back and forth, causing the nipples to roll and twist.

As her moans became louder and her body began to undulate on the ground, her fingers turned once more to pinch and twist and pull her nipples as far from her body as they could stretch.

She could feel the almost electric feel of passion overwhelming her body. Her hands now seemed to be acting on their own. One slammed down to her crotch and the fingers that had been seeking her nipple now slid up and down on her slit. The other hand, meanwhile, was rapidly switching back and forth between her nipples, pinching as hard as it could before letting go.