Sunday morning we all woke up early for some reason (okay, it was my fault, I woke up and couldn’t stand being awake all on my own.) ;-) Anyway, after some hair pulling, cocksucking, and discussion about the fun we’d had at the play party the night before, showing off my rings with windchimes and beating hell out of me in front of a roomful of perverts, we all went downstairs for coffee. Ad and I needed to head home soon, but I wanted just a little more time together, so I suggested a game of Scrabble–but with special rules.
Here’s the thing. The Boys tend to take a wee bit more time to play (ahem) than I do and I, umm, tend to get bored. So…I suggested the following method to keep Jade from getting bored:
Rule 1: Jade will get spanked/caned/whipped/whatever by one Top for as long as it takes the other one to play.
I clearly hadn’t thought the new rule all the way through before I suggested it. I realized my mistake pretty quickly though, and how spectacularly this could go wrong, when Ad took ten minutes to play his first move, and W caned me the entire time. Ummm…ouch?!?
So when Ad suggested a change in the rules, that they strike me as many times as points that I made for that turn, I jumped at the chance. He called it “behavioral modification” (would I choose more points even if I knew I’d get more whacks?) but I called it divine intervention. I wouldn’t care if I lost, right? Uh, yeah–riiiight.
Rule 1 revised: Jade gets as many whacks as points that she scores in a turn.
But then I discovered the fundamental flaw in this rule: my first turn I got 32 points. A cane in Ad’s hand for 32 strokes hurts like the dickens(!), especially as hard as they had hit me the night before at the play party.
But here’s where karma comes into play. I had scored that many points by, umm…sort of…cheating. Not REALLY cheating…just, well, playing a word that I knew damn well wasn’t totally sure was spelled correctly. And…I thought I had bluffed the guys. But apparently W is one smart cookie. He knew darn well it wasn’t spelled right, but let it go anyway. As he later said, 32 strikes with the cane was punishment enough for cheating–and amusing for them to see me get.
Anyway, that episode spawned my next wise idea. How about the guys have to use found objects to whack me with? I mean, how bad could it hurt to get whacked with office or kitchen implements, right?
What followed was an exercise in “Thinking Things Through” before implementing them.
Rule 2: Tops can only use found objects.
It was like BDSM with 5th graders. You never saw so much glee on two Top’s faces. They competed to find the least innocuous-seeming item and make it hurt the worst.
W’s first choice was a 4lb phonebook. Besides almost hurling me through the wall, it also destroyed a perfectly good phone book. Thank goodness he has about 12 more laying around.
Next Ad chose a rubber band. You can’t see it here, but he made perfect “x”s with the damn thing. It’s amazing how much a little rubber band can hurt in the hands of a sadist. But I was getting smarter–I made myself play low points for the couple rounds.
But then I did it. I couldn’t help it, I just couldn’t deliberately lose. Even to save my hide. I played a fifty-five point word. And waited, while W thought long and searched hard for his perfect, 55-strike-worthy weapon implement of choice. He ended up using the metal strip that holds a file folder up in the file drawer.
Oh yeah, he was serious. Fifty-five stripes with that across my upper thighs. I thought I was gonna die. At least I would have died with the winning score though.
By this time I was getting pretty floaty. Apparently being floaty makes me play better. Or play more stupidly, because my next three moves were worth 35, 28 & 22 points. And the boys got successively stranger in their implement-choices.
But guess what? I may have got beat, but I won the game!
At least, I think you could call it winning.