The T Or D Version

I went with my older brother's friends, to a big, old house on a busy street. It was a party. My brother left with his friends. I stayed. I went up to the attic with a few guys to smoke pot. I had just turned 18 and was still in high school, they were a little older. Someone had a deck of cards. I made a joke we should play strip poker. I was the only girl. Also, it was summer and I was barefoot, and I only had some baby blue shorts and a t-shirt on, along with my bra and panties. So four things on. Of course they wanted to play, and were pretty persistent about it. I kept joking that I wanted to play too. I was pretending that I wanted to see them naked as much as they wanted to see me naked. That wasn't really true, but I really wanted, even then, for them all to see me naked.

So we started playing. It was a real game, and I didn't loose anything for the first few rounds. One guy lost his shirt before I lost anything. Then someone said, "do we want to play stock rules or T or D version?" I said "what's T or D version?" They explained that if you loose all your clothes you have to keep playing, and you have to do a mandatory truth or dare if you loose a hand while naked. But if you don't want to do the dare you have to give up an item of clothing permanently... they slice it up so you can't wear it.

Well I didn't think I was gonna loose, and I was very high. Anyway I said I wanted to play that version, the T or D version. But what I didn't realize was that that meant the game wouldn't end when somebody got naked, like in the normal version. In the T or D version, there's no real place to end, and you're not really allowed to quit.

So basically, that's how I got trapped.

So this all happened first to one of the guys, so as they explained the other rules as we went, it wasn't happening to me, and everybody was just laughing, nobody really cared that the guy got naked and his clothes were ruined, I think it was his house anyway. They had a lie detector thing. I know now that it was just a toy and it didn't really work, but nobody brought that up, they all treated it like it worked when they did the "truth" parts.

Well I lost my clothes, eventually, and the guy who lost his clothes first had some other clothes to put on, but I did not. I was naked, and they wouldn't give me back my clothes, even though everyone else was dressed.

And it was fair, too, I mean it seemed fair at the time, because it had happened the same to the other person, and I hadn't objected when it happened to him, I had agreed to it when it wasn't happening to me, so now I had to do it too. Anyway I started drawing a lot of low cards, almost in a row but not quite, but I started loosing more rounds than I was winning.

Oh by the way one of the rules was you could only choose three Truths in a row before you had to choose a Dare. That was the same as normal Truth or Dare, the way we played it in my home town.

For my first truth they asked me if I masturbate, to which I shyly admitted that yes, I do masturbate. I did want to fit in and make them think I was grown up, and it was the truth. But I still remember wanting to say it... I had an urge to tell them, and I thought they would tease me about it, and I remember I wanted them to tease me.

But that first truth was the only one that did not set off the lie detector. The next one did. They asked me this:

"When you are masturbating, do you ever fantasize about being raped?"

To which I said no. That's when they made me put my fingers in the little clips with the sensors, to see if I was telling a lie. So then the guy, Mark Hassler, who originally asked the question, turned to face me and asked again:

"When you are masturbating, do you ever fantasize about being raped?"

Mark was older than the rest of the guys, and he was in college, and had a clean shaven face. He looked like a scientist from an old movie. His voice was very matter-of-fact, like it was the most normal thing in the world to ask a girl this sort of a question. I tried to look him in the eyes while I said "no" again, but when I did, the "lie detector" thing made a beeping sound, and Mark picked it carefully up off the coffee table and turned it to show me that the dial was in the red, which meant I was lying.

They all started to get kind of more serious and a little mad at me, and they were all staring at me. I was very conscious of the fact that I was lying, and I felt like they could read my mind like a book, and that the fact that I was blushing so hard made it obvious to everyone there I was lying.

"It's actually not uncommon," Mark said in his matter-of-fact tone. "Thirty percent of women fantasize about being raped, according to studies." He had a very educated, authoritative way about him.

I was pleading to them that I wasn't lying, and Mark suggested "How about we test the machine and then ask the question again, so everyone can see how it works?" I said okay, so they asked me my name. "January Josephine Cunis" and I could see the dial barely move at all. Then they asked me my address to which I said "I live a 2395 Grove street" and I noticed one of the guys typing my address into his phone, but at the same time I was looking at the dial, which barely moved. Then they said "Have you ever been to France?" and I said no. So they explained that they were going to ask the same question again, but now I'm supposed to say that I have been to France. So again they asked, "Have you ever been to France?" to which I said "Yes" and the dial jolted up into the red section, and it made the beeping noise again.

That was proof I was lying, and that the machine worked. It recognized my lie.

Everyone was staring at me. And at that moment I realized there was no way out of this, and I began to feel very weak at the pit of my stomach, but also I felt very tingly down there... in my stomach but also down lower. I was feeling extremely helpless, and hopelessly in trouble, with no way out. And it was making me feel sick. But also, the terrible feeling had a thrilling feeling too, which was like a very warm feeling, almost a fun feeling, like when you are on a roller coaster at the top of the turn-around, just about to teeter into the steepest and deepest downhill plunge. You are terrified, but you can't stop the ride, and although you can't stand it you also know you really want this to happen. You've put yourself there on purpose, just for this to happen.

The truth was, at that point in my life, I did fantasize about being raped all the time, and tied up and whipped and all kinds of insane things, much worse things, things that I did not want to admit to anybody. And I was pretty sure that these were only fantasies and I had no intention of making any of them come true in real life, ever. But now, all of a sudden, although I was frightened to death, still another feeling was waking up inside of me. Something terrible was about to happen to me, and I was very curious about it, and excited. My stomach was upset, but also my nipples were becoming hypersensitive and I could feel them puckering up and hardening, right in front of all these guys, who were staring at me with evil grins on their faces. And although I was squeezing my legs closed so no one could see it or smell it, my vagina was definitely lubricating, enough that the insides of my thighs were already slippery.

So they returned to the questioning, and Mark, the original questioner, asked me again if I masturbated to rape fantasies. I said "No, I don't, really guys I don't!" But the dial went straight up into the red area and almost to the very top, and they turned the machine around so everyone could see it. Someone said "there are consequences for cheating in this game" but someone else said "no no, quiet about that." That's when Mark looked at me and said,

"Okay Jan, stand up. "We will try this one more time."

I stood up.

"Okay, stand in the middle of the circle," which I did. I could feel everyone's eyes on me, on my stiff nipples, on my blushing, lying face, and somehow I felt they could see or somehow smell my dripping pussy in its little nest of newly grown pubic hairs, although I was clamping my legs together as tight as possible, even to the point where my knees were wobbling and I might have fallen down.

Mark looked directly at my eyes and asked, very calmly: "Jan... when you are alone in your room playing with your... your swampy little twat... do you ever fantasize about being raped, fucked, or sexually used without your consent?"

I didn't say anything at first. "Yes or No?" demanded Mark.

"Um... yes" I said in a very small voice.

Everyone stared at me as I blushed and quivered. The terrible feeling in my stomach was gone, replaced by the rush of adrenaline and the insane, yearning, crazy feeling of needing, desperately, to let someone have me. To let all of them have me, maybe.

One of the other guys said "I can't hear you, Jan. Can you please speak up, and speak in full sentences?" There was a murmur of consent from the other guys. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a phone pointing at me, recording this, my nudity, my confession, but I did nothing to stop it. The momentum was too great.

"Yes," I said clearly.

"Yes what?" asked Mark. I knew what he wanted. I couldn't keep my ass from jiggling as I shivered, even though it was not cold in the attic room with those nine guys. I could feel their eyes all over me, like little joy buzzers tickling me all over. I just didn't want them to notice I was wet. I could feel my "swampy little twat" dripping, and as strange as it may sound, I did feel very ashamed of how wet it was, and I felt very ashamed for lying. At home I had been spanked very hard for lying, and in my confusion I kept thinking these guys were going to spank me. I also felt terribly ashamed for getting myself into this degrading, slutty situation: I could practically hear my classmates and even my own father say "she's asking for it", and in my mind I agreed with them that I was asking for it... oh god I should be ashamed of myself! I truly was asking for it, begging for it!

I couldn't stop my ass from jiggling, but also I wanted it to jiggle, and my titties were jiggling too, and everyone was staring. And it wasn't cold, I guess it was just nerves, but I realized I was hamming it up a little, putting on a show for them, just a little. I suddenly felt very mad at myself and almost as if to punish myself I blurted out "Yes Mark, I like to sit alone in my room rubbing my vagina... and fantasizing about being brutally raped!" I said it in an exaggerated, hammy tone of voice, and way too loud.

There was silence as they all looked at me in shock. Suddenly I couldn't breathe. I could feel my pulse in my blushing red cheeks. Obviously I had over spoken, over-shared. Even in this unbelievable situation, I had somehow made it worse. I was newly mortified."Who said anything about 'brutally'?" quipped one of the guys. They all laughed nervously. "Do we keep playing?" asked another, rhetorically. "Hells yeah!" said someone and others made assenting noises. Mark said, "Okay Jan, have a seat now," and motioned to my place on the floor.

I sat down, and another hand was dealt, a 22 year old college guy took off a shoe, and as I remember it I lost the next hand. I wasn't ready to face revealing anything else about myself right at that moment, so I chose "dare".

"Oh good, said Mark. I was hoping you'd choose dare. He turned to the other players. "Can I take this one, guys?"

"Go for it," said a lanky ginger-haired guy next to him, as the others murmured their approval.

"Okay Jan, this is your dare. I want you to lean back against the couch. Here let me make this more comfortable." He grabbed a cushion and propped it against the front of the couch, giving it a pat. Go ahead, do it."

I did. "Good. That's not the whole dare though, of course. Lean back."

I followed his instructions.

"Good girl," said Mark. "Are you comfortable?" I nodded. "Good. Now Jan, and this is not the dare yet. I just want to point something out to you." His voice was still utterly calm and matter-of-fact. The rest of the boys were silent. "Jan Josephine Cunis, you are a slut. No, you don't have to admit to it or anything, it doesn't matter. This is just a statement of fact. I mean seriously, look at what you are doing right now, Jan. This game you are willingly playing, this situation you have put yourself in. And now you are willingly telling a room full of guys that you masturbate, that you rub your own pussy for pleasure. I mean here you are, totally naked, sitting on the floor boards of an unfinished attic in an unfamiliar house, with a bunch of guys you've never met before, who are all staring at you." Mark gestured towards the guys and some of them in the back maybe couldn't see very well so he gestured them in closer. Everyone came in close. I could feel all nine pairs of eyes boring holes into me.

"Jan, you don't have to answer this, because this is not part of the dare. Jan, what do you think these guys most want to see right now?" He smiled at me, and then glanced down at my lap. I still had my legs clenched tight. "They've seen your tits, right? What else do they want to see?"

I blushed and swallowed. Somehow I felt guilty for not answering, but I didn't dare.

"They want to see your pussy Jan".

He looked up at the guys surrounding me. "Am I right?"

The guys laughed nervously, but affirmatively.

"But you don't want to show it, Jan, do you? And here you are, the biggest slut anyone has every seen, totally naked in front of all your new boyfriends, but you won't show us the goods. Hmm... January Josephine, you know, that doesn't make much sense, when you think about it. Why are your legs clamped closed so tightly? He tapped the side of his forehead thoughtfully.

I began to realize what he was getting at. Even at this moment, my face blushed two shades redder. He turned to the guys..

"Boys, I think Jan might be enjoying this whole situation just a little too much, maybe. I think she might be enjoying this even more than Raymond here," and he gestured toward a pimple-faced boy who was wearing Dockers, which are tailored more loosely in the groin so he was tenting like he'd shoved a salami down there. Everyone snickered.

"Yep," Mark mused, turning his attention back to me. "Oh Jan, Jan... I think these guys have got your number. I'm afraid these guys are getting wise to what's happening here for you... yes Jan, they know," he whispered. Don't they? "they know, and you know they know. And they know that you know that they know."

He looked at me, shaking his head slowly back and forth. "Oh my slutty little princess. there's no more hiding it. Why don't you just tell us? Why don't you want to open your legs, Jan?" He looked back at Raymond and the rest of them. "Am I right, boys? Is dirty, slutty little January Cunis here, maybe, ah-hem, enjoying this whole scenario just a wee bit too much? Is that what it is, Jan? Are you clenching terribly embarrassed by, ahem, the evidence of your arousal?"

And then he leaned in and whispered in my ear: "it's no use honey, we can smell it."

And he was right, of course, I was sopping wet. I could even feel a growing wet spot on the floorboards beneath my ass, and somehow I could feel how my pubic hair too was sopping wet, which didn't even make sense because moisture doesn't flow uphill, but somehow I was a mop down there, from top to bottom. I was slippery, I was slimy, and I knew I smelled enough to stink up the whole large attic room. But the guys had all muscled in close, at this point. Of course they could all smell me. But i couldn't just show them, could I?

Mark took out his iPhone, and motioned to the other guys to do the same. Now I could feel nine pairs of eyes and nine phones all staring at me, boring holes into my naked, blushing skin. I let out a little whimper, which sounded like a sexual moan and maybe it was, a little, and everyone snickered. They were all grinning feverishly.

"Here's your dare, Jan. I want you to open your legs for my camera. For all our cameras. Hold them wide open, so that everyone can see how much you've been enjoying this evening, enjoying this little game. Open your legs and show us what a slut you are, Jan, what a disgusting, perverted rape-slut you truly are. Oh Jan. Your parents would be so disappointed in you. I wonder if they know how filthy you really are...."

He looked directly in my eyes, and smiled way too broadly, letting me know that he was not at all the detached "scientist" type that he was pretending to be. "Your dare is to spread them for us, Jan."

The room full of eyes seemed to pull in closer, and Mark's voice got lower and more intimate. "And then, Jan, I want you to touch it for us. Touch it exactly as you like, Jan, exactly as you do at home, in your own bed. We all want to see exactly what you do to your filthy, needy little pussy, while you are under your covers fantasizing about being raped."

I couldn't believe he was saying this out loud. I could barely breathe. "We want to see it, Jan. We want you to show us how you touch yourself while you are fantasizing about being 'brutally' raped."

My eyes started tearing up, but I wasn't crying. All I could feel was insane, insatiable heat. Mark whispered, but every ear in the room could hear him. "Yes you little rape-whore, I dare you to rub yourself for us, and please, while you are fingering your dirty little twat, please explain to me, and to the boys, and to my camera, exactly what you meant by saying you fantasize about being 'brutally' raped? Isn't rape already brutal?"

I thought it was rhetorical, but he paused, expecting an answer. "Yes," I whispered.

"Then how is being raped 'brutally' so different? Would you have to be tied up?"

He paused again. "Yes," I said.

"Would the guys beat you, whip you, or hurt you in other ways as they rape you?"

"Yes."

"Are the rapists rougher, stronger, or unusually well-endowed?"

"Yes."

"Do they fuck your asshole Jan, as well as your stinky little twat?"

I paused for an awkward moment. I could barely bring myself to say it. "Yes, yes. They fuck me in my anus too, " I finally admitted. "The brutal... rapists... love to fuck my... my poop hole."

"Jan, Jan. You are just.. so filthy." The room was silent. Mark finally asked, in a whisper, "Do they fuck you with their fists?"

"Oh god!" I whimpered. How did he know? Could he see into my mind? "Yes, yes," I finally admitted. "The men fist-fuck me... in my little vagina." I was just barely crying, just a little bit, with no sobbing but with copious tears and just a little sniffling. The humiliation was just a little more than I could bare, and my tears were just like a too-full glass spilling over the brim.

"But they are big men, right? Big men with large fists?"

"Uh huh."

"How do their big fists fit into your tiny little vagina?"

"They don't." I began to heave, just a little, thinking about the big men's fists.

"Jan. Oh you poor little princess. Do the big men rip your vagina?"

"Yessssss. Yes they do, they... rip. it. with their fists. ooooh god, oh god!"

"They punch-fuck your poor, torn vagina with their fists?"

"yesssssss."

"And your anus?"

"Yesssssss."

"At the same time?"

"Yessss. At the. Same. Time." My hands were still covering my twat, but I started rubbing it too.

"good girl, Jan. That's your dare. I want you to explain this to us. And to my camera. To everyone's camera." I stopped breathing, remembering the cameras. Mark smiled broadly, noticing my reaction. "The whole world wants to know, January Cunis. Tell us. And use details from your real fantasies. We're gonna put the lie detector on you so you don't dare cheat." And he reached for the lie detector.