The Game Ch 01 3

It had been a week. That was all. He'd been fucking me on a regular basis for just over a year, and it had been finished for a week. Okay,

eight days

, but who was counting?

I'm not sure if I was coping well or not. I mean, how do you separate these things? I missed his body. His strong legs. His wondrous lips. All right, his big hard cock, okay? I missed the shuddering sweaty orgasms, the three AM seductions, the telephone calls. The panties he purchased and sent me from wherever he went. I missed discovering him in the shower, eyes closed, cock in hand.

I didn't miss the lies, the smell of slut on his body, the devious evasions. I didn't enjoy the wrong numbers. I didn't like the sudden extensions of his business trips, the abrupt excuses, the shameful returns.

What did I have? Memories. An inexplicable need for kitchen sex. Empty nest syndrome between my thighs, and sore fingers. Oh, and panties. Lots of panties.

All of this was stumbling through my tired brain as I left the library. A full backpack weighed down my body, the situation weighed on my mind. I'd worked too late again, and I needed to get home, eat something, and hit the sack. Tomorrow would be another big day.

I normally had the sense to avoid any shortcuts when it was this late, sticking to the well lit streets for peace of mind as much as anything, but this time I just wanted to get there, and strolled carelessly across the park, never even thinking about it.

I was quite a way through before my befuddled mind realised what I'd done, and I wasn't about to turn back from there, so hitching my backpack up properly, I looked around cautiously and continued along the path.

Nothing happened until the lights at the far end of the park were in my sight. I relaxed a little, strolling down the middle of the path, considering my food options, when a flash of movement from the left caught my eye.

Before I was able to attempt a guess as to what was going on, a body, dressed totally in black, with a matching mask covering everything except for eyes and mouth, grabbed hold of the backpack. Unbalanced, I stumbled in the direction I was pulled, off the path, and out of sight from any other pedestrians, in the unlikely event that any passed.

As we disappeared from sight, my assailant suddenly brandished a sizeable knife, and slashed the backpack straps, letting my books and papers fall to the leaf-strewn ground, as they burst through the bag.

All of this happened much too fast for me to say anything, and as I gathered the will to scream, a gloved hand clamped my mouth shut. The other hand, still holding the knife, wrapped around my chest, pressing my breasts hard against my body and making it difficult to breathe.

A mouth hovered near my ear, and spoke quietly, calmly, in a deep voice.

"Don't scream, Heather. Just listen. First, I need to talk to you. I'd rather you could respond, so I want to take my hand off your mouth. You need to agree to keep your voice down. I need to know if you understand me, and are willing to do as I say. Nod for

yes

, shake your head for

no

... I can't tell what that means Heather. Calm down. That's a yes? Okay. Just stay there. No, don't

look

at me, either."

I had nodded, feeling strangely calm now, and the hand was removed, though the voice stayed near my ear.

"Okay, Heather, I have no intention of hurting you. It's not like that at all. I need to find out if I've guessed something correctly though."

"Okay, okay. I'll be good. What do you want?"

The deep, quiet voice continued. "'good' isn't really what I'm after, Heather. But I need to know, first of all. Need to check. I've accosted you, dragged you into the bushes, cut your backpack. Are you

scared

?"

"Shit, of course I'm scared!"

"That's good. But I think, as well as being scared, you're just a little excited."

"Excited? Are you out of your fucking mind?"

"Yeah. You like the adventure."

"I do

not

!"

"No?"

"No. Of course not. How dare you?"

"You're not a little bit... intrigued?"

"I... No! Fuck! I want to know who you are. How do you know my name?"

"All in good time. You

are

excited."

"I'm terrified, you lunatic."

"Your life is not in danger, Heather."

"It's easy for you to say that.

You

have the knife."

"You don't want the knife, Heather. You might hurt someone."

"Yeah, you."

"Maybe. Can we get back to the question?"

"Fire ahead. You're obviously in charge."

"I am. Here we go. Think before you answer. I want to know, Heather, if you want to play a game."

"A game? What, fucking tiddlywinks?"

"I'm not divulging the nature of the game."

"No?"

"Not at all."

"A game out

here

, in the woods?"

"It would take longer than this."

"And you won't

tell

me?"

"No."

"Well then,

no!

Of course not!"

"Think carefully. I know you better than this. You will regret it if you say no."

"How do I know you won't hurt me?"

"I won't. Whichever choice you make."

"Why would I say yes?"

"You want some excitement in your life. Something to fill the void left by Ray."

"How the fuck do you know about that?"

"It's just one thing. There are others."

"You already

know

, don't you?"

"Know what?"

"What my answer will be."

A deep chuckle, and then "I would be foolish to go this far without some confidence."

"Then you

know

I will."

"You will?"

I whispered then, ashamed of myself. "Yes."

"What did you say, Heather?"

"You fucking heard me!"

"Good. I was confident. I was not certain."

"I'm pleased to have distressed you so much."

"You want to know how the rules work, Heather?"

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"I will meet with you from time to time, and give you instructions. You will follow them. Understand?"

"I'm scared, but I'm not feeble. Of course I understand."

"Then listen. Tomorrow, you will go about your business as usual. Tell no one of this meeting, of the game, or of what happened to your belongings."

"That sounds... a little ludicrous. You don't want me to do

anything

?"

"Yes, one thing. Wear the denim skirt."

"Do I know you?"

"Not nearly as well as you think."

"But the skirt..."

"Is short. Yes, I know."

"I

never

wear that in public."

"You do now, Heather."

"I... all right. Denim skirt."

"Choose a nice top."

"Nice?"

"You have good taste Heather. Work it out."

"Yeah, okay. Skirt, nice top."

"Good. There's just one more thing."

"Oh, yes?"

"Yes. Heather, I can't take the chance you will follow me, and I need to make sure you realise, now you've agreed, that I intend to keep you to your promises."

"So now you are going to kill me after all? Stunning piece of negotiation on my part, I

must

say."

"No, Heather. I won't hurt you. Of course, if you don't hold still,

you

just might hurt you."

"What do you mean?"

"Can you feel this pressure against your stomach?"

"Pressure? Oh, yes. My God, is that the

knife

?"

"I'm going to remove my other arm from your chest. Don't move, Heather."

"I'm not going any place."

"Good. Now look straight ahead. Not down."

"Okay. Look, do you have a name, or something?"

"A name? Don't look down, Heather."

"Yes. I need to call you

something

."

"You do not. But if you feel you do, how about... Birch."

"

Birch

?"

"Like the tree in front of you."

"Oh. Weird. All right. Birch."

"Okay, now hold still, Heather. You feel the metal now, on your skin?"

"Oh, God, yes! Fuck, what are you

doing

?"

"Relax. The sharp edge is facing outwards. It's the point that you need to be concerned with."

"

Relax

? You have a major kitchen implement poised just above my jeans, and you want me to relax?"

"Just don't move. I'm going to slide this knife down. I wouldn't want you to get hurt."

"No?"

"No."

I could feel the tip of the knife slide down my skin, down past the waistband of my jeans, slowly slithering down between my skin and my panties. The blade slid down over my pubic hair, and I could picture some of the hairs being snipped on the way past. The knife followed the line of my skin, and eventually I could feel the edge of it slide down past my clitoris, slightly to one side, and then the cool steel slid down my labia.

It's ludicrous I know, but right then I thought of Ray, of how he provided for this moment, sending me all these panties. It must have been the stress.

The pressure of the blade between my skin and jeans was eventually too much, and the sharp blade sliced down the front of my pants and panties, as I stood motionless, much too scared to move. I wasn't just scared though. I was wet. Excited wet. Horny wet. That cold steel was almost more than I could stand, sliding down my damp skin, touching me so intimately. It's like art. I don't understand it, but I know what I like, and as terrified as I was, I sure liked this.

Suddenly, the clothing had parted enough for gravity to assist, and my ruined jeans fell to my knees, followed quickly by the much lighter cotton panties.

The knife fell away from my body, and I dared to breathe. The mouth moved closer, and quickly kissed my neck. Before I could collect my wits, the dark body – I mean

Birch

– and the knife were gone, running away through the woods.

I was tempted to follow, but as soon as I took a step, I realised I had enough problems of my own. I pulled my trousers up as best I could. It was rather pointless really, as I had to drop them again to crouch and collect my books.

With my broken backpack in one hand, barely able to contain the books now, and the other holding up my pants, I stumbled home, looking behind myself frequently, half expecting someone to creep up behind me. I was terrified, and just wanted to get inside. At the same time, I didn't want to meet anyone and have to explain.

I fumbled at the door for my keys, eventually dropping my pants yet again in the process, and hoped none of the neighbours were watching. I got the door open, and fell through it, dropped the bag, and the trousers.

I flicked the light on, and called out, but as I expected, no one was there. That was when I surprised myself.

Standing numbly, but knowing exactly what I was doing, I pushed each of my shoes off with the other foot, and kicked them away, before pulling my legs back up, and letting my jeans and ruined panties fall to the floor.

Wearing only a shirt and a bra, I dropped to my knees in the entranceway. I spread my knees on the hardwood floor, and reached down between my sopping thighs with both hands.

Fingers flew all over my skin as I stroked myself desperately, wet and aroused beyond belief, dripping on the wood, pushing fingers deep inside myself, removing a hand from my crotch to clutch a breast as best I could through my bra, crushing the nipple painfully as I strummed my clitoris to a quick but incredibly intense orgasm.

My body shook as I knelt, motionless for just a moment, feeling the muscle tension flow through me, feeling my whole body join in the frenetic party centred between my legs. My legs tried to clamp shut, but the weight of my body was keeping my knees apart, so my most delicate parts just continued to drip shamelessly on the floor while my pelvic muscles contracted over and over again.

I started again, continuing to stroke and coax my clitoris, running up and down my labia with slippery fingers, having given up on my inaccessible nipples, reaching down to tease my perineum at just the right moment, and collapsing in a second orgasm before I was really sure the first one had finished.

This time I couldn't take it any more, and I fell backwards onto the floor. I lay there for a while, shaking, before realising that I needed to get up in case anyone came home. I stood, but stumbled, unable to walk properly with the muscle spasms in my thighs.

I grabbed the books again, picked up my torn clothing, and walked, slowly but surely to the bedroom. Dropping everything in a heap, I tried to work out what to do next.

No answer came immediately to hand, and I was suddenly desperately tired, so I showered, cleaned up a little, and fell into bed.

I'd have thought I would have been asleep before my head hit the pillow, but I'd been mulling over everything that happened, while I was in the shower, and I managed to successfully snuggle into the bed, and put an exploratory finger between my again slippery nether lips before falling sound asleep, despite my arousal.