Boys' Night In

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Master has invited two or three of his mates round for a few beers. This may sound perfectly normal, but the events that take place on this night are far from normal.

On their arrival at Master's house, his mates are immediately taken with a new addition to the living room. A small coffee table, black and shiny, set up in the middle of the room. On this table sits a half full beer bottle and a large, heavy ashtray. The men all stare in amazement, voicing their compliments in tones suggesting sheer delight.

What is so interesting about Master's coffee table? Well, it is basically a human table. A young woman, to be precise, every inch of her hidden beneath a shiny black latex catsuit and hood. She is on all fours, her back perfectly straight, her head bowed. A thick penis gag saturated with her own juices keeps her silent. Ropes are tied between her wrists and her knees, anchoring her firmly in place.

The human table has been in this position for two long, uncomfortable hours. Her hands and knees are feeling numb, and her neck is sore from being held down. But she dare not move even an inch, because if she does, she will make Master very angry, just as she will if her contents should slide off her back and fall to the floor.

Master fetches beers for his mates and they settle down to drink and talk. Now more beer bottles are placed on the table, which remains perfectly still. The girl trapped within the skintight latex prison listens to the stories exchanged by the men, noticing how they are gradually moving from sober, to tipsy, to full on drunk as time goes on.

Eventually the men fall silent. Then Master says 'Let's play a game.' His mates don't seem bothered either way, but when he leaves the room, only to return a moment later, their interest is rekindled.

'What the fuck is that? A TV aerial?' one asks amid fits of laughter.

'No,' Master says. 'We can't go to the fair, because it's shut for the winter, so I've brought the fair to us.'

The human table wonders what the hell Master is going on about. He is very drunk and making no sense whatsoever. But it soon becomes very clear what is going on.

The ashtray and beer bottles are taken away, and the girl gives a silent sigh of relief. But she stiffens with fear and anticipation when a zip is opened at the back of her suit, baring her lovely round arse cheeks and her smooth shaven pussy, dripping wet, the smell mingling with that of beer and cigarettes. It is all she can do not to moan as Master's hand, cold after handling so many chilled bottles, is laid gently on her arse. She wonders if she will be spanked, but this is not his intention.

This time she does give a moan, as he slides a single finger into her pussy and then uses the juice to lubricate her tight little arsehole, which he penetrates with ease. She relaxes as the finger is withdrawn, and allows him to insert something long, hard and thick inside her. The zip of her suit is then done up again, only about an inch left open.

Now there is more hysterical laughter as Master explains himself.

'We are going to play ring toss. There are three rings and you have to get them all onto the pole. We'll take it in turns, and the first one to get all three rings on first time wins £50 and a chance to do my lovely little slavegirl up the arse.'

The girl goes cold at these words, but her face is flushed with shame and, she hates to admit to herself, arousal. She is glad of the hood obscuring her face to spare her blushes from the men. They are all heavily built; no doubt they will have cocks to match. She is afraid at the thought of taking any one of those monstrosities up such a tiny little hole, and yet the thought makes her juices trickle even more.
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As she waits for the men to decide who will play ring toss first, the poor little slavegirl tries hard to compose herself, but the truth is that the thought of taking one of those big brutes inside her arse scares and arouses her. A part of her hopes that all will fail in their attempts, but another part of her wants them to succeed, so that she can take someone inside her. The ring toss plug is long and thick, but is nothing compared to a real, thick, meaty cock.

'Okay,' Master says, 'off you go.'

The slavegirl hears the whooshing sound of a ring being hurled across the room. It lands on target, and as it does so, it tugs at the pole sticking out of her arse, jarring the plug impaled inside her and making her twitch with excitement. It happens again with the second ring, and she moans at the thought of the man succeeding at his task and what his prize will be.

But, unfortunately, the third ring fails to hit its target and clatters to the floor, to the sound of smug laughter and groans of disappointment. The man playing is not the only one who is not happy; the slavegirl had been wondering how he would feel inside her.

The second man's attempts at the game are truly dismal. All three of his rings miss their target. The poor slavegirl, by this point, is starting to think that she won't be getting a cock up her bum after all. And then another thought occurs to her. What if Master blames her for his friends' failures and punishes her for it? Even worse, what if he carries out her punishment in front of this audience, who she and Master both know will be only too appreciative?

The slavegirl is distracted from her thoughts as the third and final man then takes his turn. She is struck with a sudden urge to wiggle her lovely little bum, and despite the way she is bound up she is determined to give it a damn good try, to entice all the men and distract them, even though she knows that will result in the man's failure and, ultimately, her denial of a lovely cock.

The first ring lands on target. As the second comes flying through the air, she wiggles her arse; not as much as she would like to, but enough for the men to appreciate. However, the second ring too lands on target.

It feels as though everyone in the room is holding their breath as they wait for the third and final ring to be thrown. It whizzes through the air in what feels to all like slow motion; all is silent, the slavegirl's heart pounding.

The third ring lands on target.

The men cheer and laugh as they realise what this means. The girl too is delighted, clenching her sphincter muscles tightly around the ring toss plug. She can't wait for it to be replaced with the winner's cock, and can feel her excitement dripping down the inside of one thigh.


Master's voice, combining envy and arousal. The slavegirl hears some notes being counted out.

'Now you may claim your other prize.'

Her zip is unfastened just enough to allow for the removal of the butt plug, and she moans softly at the sudden sensation of emptiness, following it with a gentle sigh as she realises that this emptiness is only temporary.

Sure enough, a moment later, she cries out into her gag as she feels a massive cock, clad in latex, thrust deep and forcefully into her pussy, sliding in with ease. She clenches tightly around her precious gift, but it is quickly snatched away. But then she feels his finger lubricating her arsehole, and then the cock she has been praying for is finally pushed slowly up where a cock shouldn't be allowed to go.

He fucks her hard, relentlessly, grunting like an animal as he gives her everything he's got. She pushes back onto him, feeling him pushing in deep inside her, only the tiniest amount of pain, but a sweet pain, which she accepts only too happily.

And then his fingers are inside her pussy; one, two, then finally three, pounding away at a speed to match that of his thrusting inside her arse, his thumb resting on her clit and rubbing her until she gives in to her orgasm in a delirious haze of pleasure, just as he too climaxes, deep inside her.

He pulls away from her then, leaving her feeling used but sated. Conversation resumes, and the slavegirl is ignored, until the room falls silent except for a few drunken snores. Then she feels a hand gently caressing her bare arse, and knows instinctively that this is Master.

'Good girl,' he says softly. 'I am very, very proud of you.'

The games are over now. He frees her from her head to toe latex and bindings; naked now, she curls up with him on the sofa, next to a fucking huge beast of a man. Master is soon asleep, and as soon as this becomes evident, the man on the other side of them strokes his hand up the girl's leg; meeting her eyes, he smiles and gives her a sly wink.
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The games are over now. He frees her from her head to toe latex and bindings; naked now, she curls up with him on the sofa, next to a fucking huge beast of a man. Master is soon asleep, and as soon as this becomes evident, the man on the other side of them strokes his hand up the girl's leg; meeting her eyes, he smiles and gives her a sly wink.

But, but, but the last line which I have provided gives the hint of more than one. A-a-a-a-a-are you sure there is no more?
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The present tense used is more atmospheric than if you had used past tense. The way you haven't mentioned races or countries, and the complete lack of any names, using "Master" and "the slavegirl" instead, brings an element mystery, whilst also opening up a branch of thought as to who these people are in their everyday lives. Is he an accountant? A taxi-driver? Is she a shop assistant? Could she Asian? Or white? Could he be black? Where are they? To me, this shows how diverse the BSDM culture is, because you haven't placed any such restrictions on the character or the scenery.

I just woke up, and that's what comes to mind at present. Should I have any more thoughts, I'll be sure to post them for you.
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