This story contains femdom and bdsm themes. If you are likely to be offended by such material please find yourself another story.
Forfeits – Chapter 1
The eight of us had known one another from our university days since when we had paired off and married. Whilst the other three girls were all desirable in their own way I knew that, in marrying Claire, I had got the pick of the crop. She was intelligent, vivacious and was blessed with a body that was almost too perfect to be true.
We were now all coming up on out thirtieth birthdays but we still kept up the ritual of organizing a dinner party every three months on a rotation basis. On that fateful evening Claire had excelled herself. She had cooked a wonderful Thai meal and was basking in compliments when I went to fetch the Trivial Pursuits board. This, too, had become customary. We had all enjoyed playing since University but there was now an added spice in that the losing couple had to carry out a forfeit. Tradition had it that the losing couple, having paid their penalty, got to choose the forfeit for the next game even though they themselves might fall victim to it.
David and Diane had lost last time round and their forfeit had been to spend a night in the hosts’ guest bedroom. This would not have been too bad except that the bedroom was in the process of being redecorated and there was not a single scrap of furniture or carpeting. When we met up the following day David and Di did not look at all happy and Claire suspected that they would chose a harsh forfeit on the basis that they were unlikely to lose twice in a row.
I poured some more wine and set up the board.
“Okay, so what’s the forfeit?”
Di looked across at her husband and smiled before opening her handbag. She took out what appeared to be a steel tube. It was about three inches long, an inch and a half in diameter and girded by three flexible notched belts. She placed it into the middle of the board and everyone immediately craned forward.
“What the hell is it?”
Di seemed to take great delight in explaining.
“It’s a male chastity tube. It will fit all sizes unless one of you boys really has a surprise in store for us.”
We all laughed but I sensed an undercurrent of unease. Several of the past forfeits had been a little risqué but this one seemed to be a shade more sinister. Claire asked the obvious question.
“What about you David? Are you prepared to wear it for a night if you lose?”
David smiled.
“Of course – and you and Peter can be keepers of the key if you like.”
Adele, our self-appointed champion of fair play piped up.
“How do we know there isn’t a spare?”
Di answered her.
“You can use a padlock of your own choosing – as long as it’s a reasonable size.”
I guess, in retrospect, that it was machismo that made us play along with it. None of us wanted to wimp out in front of the others. Di picked up the dice cup to start the game and then dropped her bombshell.
“Oh, by the way, it has to be worn for a fortnight; after all, it has to be a forfeit for both partners.”
I was willing one of the others to protest but it did not happen and before I knew it the die were cast and the game began. Over the years that we had played I guess that Claire and I had probably paid the fewest forfeits, not least because of Claire’s phenomenal range of general knowledge, and that night we got off to a good start. I thought that we were going to win at a canter but then, unusually for her, Claire made a couple of careless errors. Even I knew the answers but we had to answer alternately and I was not allowed to prompt. About an hour into the game we were in third place and Claire drew “Arts and Literature”. The question was on Hemingway and I gave a silent cheer; Claire had finished reading the book just the previous week. I looked across at Patrick, who now seemed doomed to pay the forfeit, and it was a second or two before I realized that Claire had answered wrongly.
I looked at her aghast but she just shrugged her shoulders and mouthed a silent apology.
On the next go Patrick and Petra answered correctly to go ahead of us and then, on their turn, Mark and Adele won and, because they had been the last to start, the game was over. I sat there bemused and tried to digest the implications. Di, meanwhile, picked up the tube.
“Time to get you dressed Peter.”
Claire turned to her.
“Who’s going to put it on?”
Di laughed.
“Well we can’t trust you or the boys. He might get their sympathy vote.”
In the next few seconds the atmosphere was as strained as I had ever known it to be in our small group. Over the years there had always been some innocent flirting, as you would get with any group of people who had come to know one another so well, and before we settled on our established pairings we had dated in different combinations, but there had never been any suggestion of intimacy once they were settled. I hoped that one of the men might protest because Claire was certain to and I did not want her cast in the role of spoilsport. Di rose from the table.
“Come on Peter, we’ll do it in the bedroom. Adele and Petra can come and ensure fair play.”
I waited for Claire to blow a fuse. One of her few bad points is her quick temper and Diane must have realized that she had pushed it too far. I looked at my wife and prayed that she would remain diplomatic but there was a curious half smile on her face and when she spoke it was with an unmistakable hint of amusement.
“Don’t be too long. I’ll be timing you.”
I now looked at Mark and Patrick hoping for rescue from that quarter. I was sure that they would not let their wives get this heavily involved in Diane’s devilment but I could see that they too were nervously excited and curious.
Looking back, I should have risked their derision and called a halt right there but I suppose that I still believed that Diane would not go through with it. She took me by the hand and pulled me from my seat and the others cheered mockingly as she led me to the stairs. Less than a minute later I was in my own bedroom with my three closest female friends and Diane was locking the door.
“The moment of truth Peter. Get undressed.”
“Di, you’re not serious? We’re going to go back downstairs and pretend that I’m wearing it right?”
“I’m very serious. No one’s ever reneged a forfeit up to now.”
She was right but then no one had ever been asked to do anything quite so outrageous before. I decided to call her bluff. I’ve got a good body. I row and play tennis and my Mediterranean ancestry has left me with dark, healthy, complexion. I also knew that I had nothing to fear in the manhood stakes as, like me, my three friends were fairly averagely endowed. I started to unfasten my belt betting with myself that Adele would be the one to break ranks. She is our paragon of virtue and easily embarrassed but she stood quietly as I dropped my trousers.
“It will be easier if you take your shirt off.”
Diane’s matter-of-fact tone was getting to me but I removed my clothes until I was standing in just my designer boxer shorts. They had all seen me in swimwear in the past and I had a feeling that this was the break point. I expected them to laugh, tell me I was a good sport, and call it a day.
“Take them down Peter.”
I looked for a hint of a smile but Diane was in deadly earnest and now I was in trouble. All three of them were looking down at my groin and it suddenly began to appreciate the attention. I hesitated as I felt the familiar stirrings but Diane was impatient; before I could react she reached forward and tugged my shorts down. I covered myself with my hands but there was no disguising my excitement.
“Well, well. We’re pleased to see you too. Take your hands away Peter”
“Look, Diane, let me go into the bathroom and put it on.”
“No deal. Let’s see the goods.”
I dropped my hands but now it was with a perverse sense of pride.
“Very nice Peter but you’re going to have to lose it. Adele. Your wine glass will do.”
Petra and Adele had brought their glasses upstairs with them and Adele’s, having been recently refreshed with Sancerre, was frosted with condensation. In the next few seconds my opinions concerning Adele changed forever. Far from being shy she came forward and, without another word, she knelt in front of me and touched the cold glass to my ball sac. I yelped, as much in surprise as from the shock of the cold glass. I stepped away and clutched my manhood but the glass had had the desired effect and my erection began to wilt.
