It’s been too long since I’ve tied you up with a vibrator and sat back to watch you thrash and squirm through orgasms.
“Let’s try this again, Kinsey. Did you, or did you not, invite me up to your dorm room for the express purpose of tricking me?”
She shook her head, hair falling down over her eyes, which were large and dark and innocent.
“So the toy currently seated inside you–did you buy that in the belief that you could somehow humiliate me by getting me to, ah, insert it? Or did you buy it for your own use?”
Her eyes darted back and forth, not sure which answer made her look worse.
“Have you already forgotten? Let’s remind you exactly what I’m talking about.” He slapped a button on the side of the remote, turning it on to full.
The toy was not a small one, and its high-discharge battery pack had barely started. Kinsey yelped through the tape and wriggled around, which only made her little black shorts ride up and tuck the vibrator more firmly into its place inside her. She opened and closed and flexed her hands, bound with tape even more securely than her mouth, unable to get to any position that would help. Little frustrated grunts of breath escaped through her nose as he watched. And waited.
Finally he slapped it again, and she sagged in relief. “So. You remember exactly which toy I’m talking about, Kinsey?”
This time her nod was quick and emphatic.
“Let’s continue with the sequence of events. You plied me with alcohol–inexpensive alcohol. You challenged me to a card game. You lost deliberately but lightly, while getting me to what you believed was a point of intoxication where I’d take you up on some rather outlandish wagers. Do you agree with any of that assessment?”
Kinsey rolled her eyes as she nodded. He flicked the switch just for a second. She jumped, and kept her eyes on his face when she nodded again.
“And then you tried to cheat.” This time it wasn’t a question. He tapped the remote against his chin. “And I caught you.”
Kinsey tried to protest at length through the tape; he let her, watching carefully, not letting the cheap scotch in his system show in his face. (Though maybe in his actions.)
“Now, you didn’t disagree with that, Kinsey,” he said when her muffled words ran out. “Which is good! I’m glad you’ve decided to adopt a little honesty. But we still have to figure out what an appropriate forfeit is.”
Her eyes widened, then narrowed, in a face that clearly said: I thought this was the forfeit.
“Nope,” he said, smiling cheerily as he turned the speed dial down to low and flipped the switch back on. Kinsey started to squirm again, but this time she was watching him, starting to figure out where he was going. “The forfeit, I think, is this: I get to use this toy you so kindly bought for me until the batteries die. And I get to record it. On the camera I strongly suspect you hid in that closet.”
She panicked, jerking and kicking desperately as he slowly turned up the speed, but the tape held fast. He turned and flicked open the closet door with one finger, smiling at what he found.
“Well, Kinsey,” he said, “little cheater, it looks like I’m the one who’s going to have the blackmail footage when we’re done with the evening’s games. Might just be that I pocket it before I get around to untying you. Might just be that unless you want it distributed, I get to come back here any night I want, and bring some fresh batteries, and start a new game.”
The power was all the way up now, and Kinsey could barely get a squeak out for gasping. He slapped it off. Then on. Then off. Then on again. Each time, she thrashed like a caught animal, even as her big, pretty eyes were starting to glaze over with pleasure and a rapidly growing need.
“The thing I like about games is the element of chance,” he grinned, picking up the scotch bottle. “And there’s a chance I’ll get tired of this before I make you beg me to leave it switched on.” He took a swig and settled down in the chair, smiling, tapping on, off, on, off, on. “Or there would be. If I were going to play fair.”