The Games

Jason Storm was one of the few passengers to look well rested, as United flight 070 disgorged it's tired travelers at London Heathrow. 8am in London, 3am back in New York, and a true red eye for most, though Jason had slept almost the entire way, fully flat in the 900-thread Egyptian cotton of Executive First. It was the first flight in a long time he hadn't undertaken on his private jet, and he had been pleasantly surprised by the experience. There had even been a stewardess, one of those sufficiently exceptional to serve his level of VIP, whom he had deemed worthy of the rare honor of his card. An auburn beauty from Cincinnati, she was the rare woman that may have been suitable. She may call, she may not; Storm cared little, there were plenty more of her, and only one of him.

Storm's bags were at the carousel before he was, and it was the shortest of walks to meet the limousine that would ferry him into Central London. During the drive he made some calls, ensuring that all was as planned; if it was not, it would be too late to salvage in any case. It was a sunny morning, autumnal warmth soft over Buckingham Palace as Storm left the car outside the fabulous Ritz hotel.

Storm left his luggage and check in to the porter, swiftly scanning the lobby for the man he sought. He saw him almost immediately, a tall, golden haired Swede of his own age, flipping a laptop shut and rising to meet him.

"Welcome to London, Jason."

"Thank you, Gustav," said Storm, shaking hands. "Everything is set?"

"The London Games begin tonight as planned," said Gustav. "All is well. You will be collected from here at five PM, it is a half hour drive. You will want to sleep after the flight?"

"Not at all," said Storm, "I slept right across the Atlantic."

"I hoped you would say that," said Gustav with a smile. "There are two Estonian girls in your suite, both nineteen. A gift from the London organising committee."

"Appreciated, Gustav," said Jason. "But first I'd like us to go through the running order one last time. Our first foray into Europe is making me nervous."

*******

Thirty minutes later, Storm slid the keycard into the door of the Presidential Suite, and felt it gently click open. The room spread out in front of him, a separate bedroom and bathroom to his right, a lounge and cocktail bar ahead, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Green Park. On the sofa sat two girls; tall and slim, one with ice blonde hair, the other with fiery orange, but both almost alabaster pale. Storm smiled; Gustav had clearly done his research.

They both stood as he entered, each making a small bow. Both wore slender black negligees, and both were barefoot. Another tick for Gustav.

"Ladies," said Storm, devoting them with the critical eye of a jaded expert.

"I am Sveta," said the blonde, "and this is Lina."

Storm waved away the information as unimportant.

"We have some supplies for you," said Lina, kneeling down to unzip a large suitcase, and giving Storm an uninterrupted view of her milky breasts as she did so.

Storm looked inside the case and smiled. Four pairs of handcuffs, two vibrators, two enormous black dildos, a thick leather paddle, two ball gags, a cane and a riding crop. Gustav had been thorough.

"Well, ladies, we only have six hours," said Storm, thrusting out a hand and grabbing Lina viciously by the hair, "so we'd better get started."

******

The redhead was better. Storm had watched the blonde, Sveta, strip and bring herself to orgasm whilst Lina sucked his cock. When they swapped, he found Sveta's mouth to be harsher, her tongue less agile, his eyes drawn to the moisture bursting from Lina's cunt as she forced the black dildo deeper inside her.

When the redhead had come, he made them both bend over the bed, and fucked them both in turn. Here, again, he found Lina's cunt to be hotter, wetter, more welcoming than that of her friend. As such, he decided that Sveta should be punished.

Storm ordered Lina to tie her blonde friend face down on the bed, wrists and ankles cuffed to the four corners. He felt the soft, gentle rise of her beautiful buttocks, and went to work with the paddle. When her screams became loud enough to potentially alert neighbouring suites, he paused and neatly fastened the ball gag into her mouth, before resuming the spanking. Sveta's pale bottom was now a glowing beacon of scarlet, whilst Lina gently sucked Storm's cock. Perhaps it was the flight, or the hot, burning buttocks in front of him, or the expertly skilled tongue of the Baltic redhead, but without warning, to his complete surprise, Storm's cock exploded, pumping thick bullets of cum straight down Lina's throat.

Being the expert she was, Lina barely reacted, keeping her eyes on Storm, her mouth still softly sucking his cock as she neatly gulped down the strings of sperm he'd left in her mouth.

"Fix us a drink," Storm said to Lina, recovering himself a little. "Pineapple juice for me, but you have whatever you like."

Lina nodded and padded over to the drinks cabinet, whilst Jason replaced the paddle in the suitcase, and took out the cane. He took it to the front of the bed, and held it out for Sveta to see. He enjoyed watching the ice blue eyes swell in fear, as she realised that he planned to use it on her defenceless bare buttocks.

*****

The Limousine slid gently through the London traffic, and out towards Surrey. As the roads turned steadily less urban, Jason Storm began to fret again about what he would find. Taking the Games franchise outside of America for the first time was a considerable risk, as well as a massive opportunity. He flipped open his tablet and scrolled to the members-only homepage of his security-encrypted website. Somehow, he found reading the introduction to be beneficial, reminding him of what he was trying to achieve.

Welcome, it said, in stylish black script. You are now a member of the world's most exclusive club. (And exactly one million dollars lighter in pocket, smiled Jason).

The Games are entirely committed to worldwide expansion, for the convenience and enjoyment of our members. For that reason, our annual schedule for the first time includes three events outside the United States. Please see the confirmed dates below.

September 28th - 30th; London, England

November 4th - 6th; Scottsdale, Arizona

December 21st - 23rd; Christmas Extravaganza; New York City

January 17th - 19th; Cape Town, South Africa

March 12th - 14th; San Diego, California

May 1st - 3rd; Munich, Germany

June 12th - 14th; Charleston, South Carolina

July 28th - August 3rd; Summer Holiday, Location TBC

Attendance at all events is priced at a flat fee of $250,000 in addition to your annual membership, and includes full VIP access to all sessions, plus two nights' luxurious accommodation on site. Each event is strictly limited to 200 places, and advance booking is required. Members unable to attend will be able to run a live stream of the event, including participation in interactive elements, for $25,000. At all events, facilities for private jets and vehicles are available. Please visit the links to individual events for more details.

Storm smiled, and clicked on the link to the London site. Here, as he knew, were detailed booking instructions and directions to the site, which his own car was now approaching, in the heart of the Surrey countryside. He scrolled down to the event preview; he needed to make sure that everything went ahead as promised.

"The Special Relationship," (it read).

Our very first event overseas will celebrate the Special Relationship between the United States and Great Britain.

"Here, Sir," said the chauffeur through the car's speaker system, interrupting Storm's reading.

Storm looked out, the darkness suddenly illuminated by the swooping of armed security guards. They were unobtrusive, all ex-military employees of The Games, all there to ensure that no prying eyes, law enforcement or otherwise, infringed on the event. The car was swiftly waved through, and they drove up a long, winding drive towards an immense slab of a house.

Storm knew plenty about the place, because he had attended most of the meetings that had surrounded the planning of the event. A Jacobean mansion, owned for generations by the Earls of Cobham, it had fallen on harder times of late, and the impoverished aristocrats had been glad to sell to a nameless American consortium. Storm would use the place for his event, refurbish it a bit, and then sell it on for what he guessed would be a considerable profit. As the house loomed closer, he saw a set of marquees in the grounds, ready for the outdoor events over the weekend. For tonight, though, all of the activity surrounded the house itself. All the windows blazed light, and a welcoming committee were ready to receive Storm as soon as he stepped out of the Limousine.

"Welcome, Chairman," said Gustav, now in full tuxedo, extending his hand.

"Thank you, Gustav," said Storm. "And well done on the Estonians, most enjoyable."

"Of course," said Gustav, inclining his head like a waiter whose diner has enjoyed his recommended dish.

"Mike," said Storm, turning to the short, thickset man on Gustav's left. "No problems, I trust?"

"No Sir, quiet as church mice," said the ex-Navy SEAL, now Storm's Head of Security.

"Hi, Mr Storm." There she was, immaculate and fabulous as ever in long, slinky black dress, stockings and glittering shoes.

"Hi, Danni." His regular host, ever since the thing had started out. Plucked from the obscurity of being a local weather presenter in South Dakota, Danielle Green was now, thanks to Jason Storm randomly tuning in whilst overnighting in Rapid City, a multi-millionairess.

"This is Kate O'Hara, Jason. My British colleague for the weekend." Danni had her arm low around the waist of a blonde girl almost as tall as she was, and just as slim.

"Hello," said Kate, looking suitably nervous to be meeting the Chairman himself.

"Kate is a relatively recent drama graduate," said Danni, smiling, "and she auditioned remarkably well."

Storm found himself wondering if Danni had conducted the audition personally. He knew exactly what type of skills Kate would have had to demonstrate during the interview, and imagined that Danni would have made a very eager recipient.

"Are we all set up inside?" asked Storm. He knew that the former ballroom and library had been merged to form the main indoor auditorium.

"Of course," said Gustav, "follow me. We start in ten minutes, so the girls should go and get ready."

Storm nodded at Danni and Kate as they made for the back of the house, whilst Gustav led him up the stone steps to the front door. Inside, the lobby was palatial, gold chandeliers and red carpet, and the entire place was lit purely by candlelight. It made for precisely the Gothic, ethereal atmosphere Storm had envisaged when he bought the house. Glancing around, he saw that refreshment tables in the reception rooms were being cleared away, the members all having presumably taken their seats in the auditorium. An at-seat drinks service was available during the show itself, with an interval scheduled midway through, so no-one would go hungry or thirsty.

Storm followed Gustav through into the auditorium itself. Four rows of fifty seats each rose above a large stage area, currently curtained off. There was an expectant hum amongst the assembled members, as waiters flitted amongst them delivering last-minute drinks. Masahito Sakho, Storm's Head of Technology, was making final checks on the lighting and video equipment that would be live-streaming the event back to members all over the world. Storm allowed himself to be conveyed to a front row seat, and accepted a glass of Champagne. On both sides of him sat the key executive members of The Games; eight of them in total, including the organisers of the next two events, in New York and Arizona. They had meetings scheduled at various points during the weekend, but first and foremost, they were here to enjoy the show. Finally, the lights dimmed, the arena fell silent, the curtain drew back, and the shimmering dresses of Danni and Kate appeared on stage. Once again, thought Storm happily, it was time for The Games to begin.

*******

The thick curtain drew back, revealing Danni alone on the vast stage, her silver dress shimmering amid Sakho's powerful studio lights. A murmur of appreciation rippled through the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she began, in the soft, sweet accent of the Dakotas, "a very warm welcome to The Games, coming to you live from London, England. Joining me as Mistress of proceedings this weekend, to celebrate our transatlantic visit, is a beautiful girl from right here in Surrey. Please give an exceptionally warm welcome to the gorgeous Miss Kate O'Hara."

The statuesque blonde swept on stage, heels clicking beneath a long, low-cut black dress. The crowd whistled and clapped appreciatively. Storm considered the girl again. A good choice, all things considered. He'd given his blessing to a co-host, wanting the London Games to have a fresh, distinct, local feel, whilst keeping the same essential format that had served him so well for six years. The girl herself seemed an excellent choice; exquisitely beautiful, of course, though that was a given. She held herself well, affecting just the right mix of nerves and confidence. Her accent was the clipped English that his father would have termed "BBC". It spoke of private school, and even as jaded a sexual mind as Storm's momentarily flitted off to visions of Kate in uniform, in an all-girl dorm...

"Thank you Danni," said Kate, kissing her co-host on each cheek. "I believe that this evening I have the honour of taking you through the house rules, as directed by Mr Storm."

She caught Storm's eye, and gave a heartbreakingly perfect submissive nod. Dropping Storm's name, of course, ensured that the rules would be followed without question.

"Firstly, I would just ask for those members viewing the online stream to bear with us for a moment. For those of you here, you will have noticed that our waitresses will be serving drinks to your seats. Please note that the waitresses are unable to offer any sexual services during the show, as this will delay the service of drinks to your fellow members. On your interactive screen, you will find a booking system, should you wish to schedule some private time with your waitress during the course of the weekend. You will note that your seat possesses a privacy screen and a lap cover, enabling you to masturbate in privacy during the show. Mr Storm particularly requests that any, er, mess, be deposited in the cups provided. Below your feet is an immeasurably valuable fourteenth century Persian carpet, it would not do for it to be stained. Finally, we ask that audience interaction and participation be strictly limited to those times when it is particularly sanctioned by your hosts. Now, it's time for the lovely Danni to introduce our participants."

"Thank you, Kate. You will all know the format of our main Game by now, I'm sure. Three teams of two girls each will compete to earn the ultimate prize: their freedom. The winning pair will battle it out in Sunday's finale to escape the clutches of The Game. Thus one girl will claim her freedom, whilst the five losers will be auctioned off to Members; those of you at home intending to bid should ensure that you have your auction plugin enabled by tomorrow morning at the latest. We find that this incentive ensures full effort from our contestants."

Many of the audience laughed. Storm grinned ruefully; capturing them was easy, freeing them was the hardest part of all. He looked around him, seeing many familiar faces in the crowd. Most Members were well known to him, especially those who attended live events. He was pleased to see that his goal for a thirty percent female audience was not far off successful. The dominant, ultra-wealthy lesbians were frequently the most enthusiastic bidders for the girls.

"Team One, wearing blue," continued Danni, "both appropriately hail from England. Please welcome onto stage Jasmine and Chloe."

The crowd jeered as the two girls walked onto stage. Each wore a powder blue t-shirt with 'The Games' emblazoned across the chest. They wore white sports shorts, with bare legs and bare feet. They looked warily around them, and walked nervously towards Danni.

"Please introduce yourselves, ladies," said Danni, as if they were members of the public on an afternoon quiz show. "Jasmine?"

"I'm Jasmine," said Jasmine. What could she do? Since being taken by The Games, she, like all girls, had been made to understand very clearly the penalties for disobedience. She was of medium height, slim, with full breasts and wavy dark brown hair. A beauty, a rare find, but Storm insisted on nothing less. "I'm 24, and I'm a hairdresser from Rochdale, just outside Manchester."

"I'm Chloe," said the other girl, a short, flaming redhead. "I'm from Barnsley in Yorkshire, and I'm a student. Or I was, before they came for me."

Storm had never laid eyes on the girl before , but he knew the main outline of her experience to this point, as it was a tried and tested method. Some local informant would have singled her out, in a bar or club, perhaps, or even just on a train. Research would follow, the capture request sanctioned by the country manager, and the girl would, one night, be flipped into a transit van before anyone could say they saw what happened. Basic training would have been in their facility in the Scottish Highlands, three months of gymnastics and fucking and caning to instill discipline, and to see if she would make the cut. Those who did not were put on planes to Dubai, Beijing, Lagos and Mumbai, where the highest prices for nubile white girls could be found.

This girl, though, had made it to Games training. She would have been flown to the main training facility, deep in the Ozark mountains of southern Missouri. There, at least a year would have been spent ensuring that she were pristine, ready to be enjoyed in a live tournament. Punishments were very different; marking was not allowed, as Storm insisted on perfect skin, at least until the Games started. Mental discipline was enforced, whilst physical and sexual skills were honed. When the girl was deemed ready, she would have been allocated a position in a live show, perhaps a main contestant, or in one of the subsidiary events. A long, arduous and expensive process. But with each of the 200 guests paying $250,000 just to attend, Storm could afford it.

"Team Two," said Kate, "is our Green team."

Two more girls joined the stage, in the same costume as the others, save for their t-shirts being emerald green.

They were Eastern European, though both spoke impeccable English. There was Ana, an improbably beautiful, fat breasted former model from Zagreb, Croatia, and Hazel, a slender, dark redhead student from Szeged in Hungary.

"I like the brunette," said Storm, nodding appreciatively at Gustav. "Ana."

"Indeed? Would you like me to make arrangements? For later?"

"Let's wait a little," said Storm, judiciously. "See how she performs."

"Finally, we couldn't have The Games without some contestants from the good old US of A," said Danni, hamming up her accent. "So let's rectify that with our beautiful yellow team."

The last two girls were welcomed onto the stage with catcalls and laughter. Their bare feet pattered lightly on the wooden stage as they made their way tentatively across to Danni, who nodded that they should go ahead with their introductions.

The first girl, Max, was much the oldest on stage, probably in her early thirties. Storm considered her full figure, oceanic blue eyes and long dark hair, as she explained that she had previously worked in insurance in Connecticut. The brunettes, he thought, were of particularly fine vintage this evening.