My improbable adventures in sexual domination started completely without warning, on a Saturday night a couple years after college.
I was sitting on the couch in my apartment, with my arm around my best friend, Rachel, who was sobbing into my favorite Renaissance Faire cloak.
āThis is pathetic,ā she said, sitting up, blowing her nose, and putting her glasses back on.
She had done this three times already ā said something final-sounding and started cleaning herself up as if she intended to change the mood, but none of her previous attempts had lasted long enough for us to make a start on the new RPG campaign Iād designed for us.
I was kind of glad she wasnāt set on playing the game. Iād put a lot of work into it, with the expectation that her boyfriend, Cameron, would be joining us. Iād put in lots of little moments where the two of them would have to work together, and although it would be possible for Rachel to just play multiple characters to get through it, I suspected it would be more of a painful reminder than a distraction from the fact that Cameron was, for whatever reason, not here.
Rachel hadnāt gotten around to sharing the details yet, and knowing her, theyād be sparse when she did.
Another wave of tears hit her, she took the glasses off, and I put my cloak back around her. I would have liked to hug her properly, head on, but then she might rest her ear on my chest and hear how rapidly my heart was beating.
This was not the first time we had gone through these motions.
Rachel had had eight boyfriends over the course of the seven years Iād known her, and every single one of them had left her sobbing into one or another of my costumes somehow.
It felt like I was going to die, every time. Partly because it hurt so bad to see Rachel in pain, and partly because whenever she broke up, it meant the guy was going to disappear from my life too. It almost always happened once Iād come to think of him as at least a casual friend, which I didnāt exactly have a ton of.
These guys werenāt the stereotypical red-flag-athons youād expect to see with someone whoād had eight serious boyfriends in seven years. I never knew what happened between them behind closed doors, but Rachel always seemed, at least from an outside perspective, to have pretty solid taste. Cameron had been my favorite so far. Heād shown up to my momās funeral with a bouquet of daffodils, which I think Iād mentioned her liking maybe once before.
But Iād be lying if I said that was what was bothering me most.
The truth was, Rachelās breakups sent me into a cold sweat, because her having a boyfriend made thingsā¦ simple.
When she had a boyfriend, I could tell myself that that was it. The current guy across the gaming table from me was the one who would be her permanent, endgame partner. Any window where I could have been that guy was closed and gone, and that was just the way things went.
It was fine.
It was good.
It was better that way, in fact, because it meant Rachel and I could stay friends forever. Iād always have her in my life, for this one sacred gaming night, every two weeks.
There was no risk of ending up a footnote on her list of exes.
As long as Rachel was with Cameron, I was safe.
But if she told me right now that Cameron was fully out of the picture, or had done something that meant he should be out of the picture, there was a very real danger that I might try to kiss her, and end up making everything worse.
Rachel blew her nose again, and let out a long sigh. My heart hammered in the silence.
āI wish I could just feel normal things,ā she said, clutching her d20 die to her chest. āWant normal things. If I could just do that, maybe Iād be happy by now.ā
āIāmā¦ not sure what you mean by normal,ā I said honestly. āAre youā¦ are you trying toā¦?ā
My stomach tightened with the opposing hope and horror of finding myself truly, permanently safe.
āBecause, I meanā¦ā I forced myself to say it. āIf you were gay, you could tell me. It wouldnāt changeāā
āIām attracted to men,ā Rachel stopped me, firm and confident, and the pressure on my stomach lifted, or at least shifted angle. āTrust me, if all I was missing in a partner was boobs, Iād have gone and found someone who had them by now. What I wantā¦ Iām starting to think it may not be out there.ā
āOh,ā I said. āUm, well, what do youā¦ If you donāt mindāā
āI know you want me to tell you, Seth,ā Rachel said flatly. āHow it ended. How it always ends.ā
My breath caught in my chest. So it had ended, then.
āI know Iām being cryptic and ridiculous,ā she said.
āNo!ā I said. āBut I mean, if you wanted to tellāā
āI feel like Iām taking such horrible advantage of you,ā she said. āBy not telling you. Itās like Iām tricking you into not making fun of me. But I just donāt know if I could take hearing it from you too.ā
āI wouldnāt make fun of you,ā I said.
āOh, you would,ā she accused. āYouād say, āThat does it, Rachel. Youāre living proof that women have an insatiable appetite for asshole, metaphorically and possibly literally, and itās your own fault you canāt ever be happy!āā
āThat doesnāt sound like me,ā I said. āOr like making fun of someone. More like a prelude to violence.ā
āWell I donāt have an insatiable appetite for asshole!ā
āOkay.ā
āI canāt stand it. When a man treats me like he thinks Iām something other than a person, I literally want him dead.ā
āIām aware,ā I said. āI was there when you punched Codey. It was dope.ā
āAnd then I want to vomit all over his corpse,ā Rachel ranted on. āDoes that sound like an insatiable appetite?ā
āNope.ā
I paused a moment, in case she wanted to keep going.
When she returned to silence, I asked, āDid Cameron turn out to be an asshole?ā
Rachel sighed again, heavily, winding her braid around her fingers.
āNo. I donāt know. I donāt think so.ā
I watched her, helplessly, for some scrap of anything that I could say something intelligent about.
Rachel watched me watch, snorted grimly, and shook her head.
āFuck it,ā she said. āI asked Cameron to try something in bed that heā¦ wasnāt up for.ā
āOh,ā I said, nodding in what I hoped was a reassuringly adult manner. āLike, a different position, or-ā
āI asked him to pretend,ā Rachel winced at herself and kept her eyes screwed shut as she spoke, āthat heād kidnapped me, and, like, was going to do whatever he wanted with me, until he found a way to make me like it.ā
āOh! Oh, wow. Okay.ā I strained for another dose of reassuring maturity. āI meanā¦ cool. So, you said that, and then heā¦?ā
āHe said something like, āYou know Iām not that kind of guy,ā and I said, āDuh, of course I know, thatās literally the only reason Iād trust you to act like one!āā Rachel rolled her eyes. āAnd it seemed like he almost understood that, for a minute, because he actually kinda tried for me. But it was justā¦ā
ā...Bad?ā
āIt was so bad,ā Rachel confirmed. āHe was all self-conscious and uncomfortable, and he kept asking what I wanted him to do. And when I said I wanted him to tell me what to do, he kind of threw up his hands and said, āCanāt we just do the usual?ā And then I told himā¦ maybe I shouldnāt have told him. It made him really mad.ā
She put a hand over the bright pink splotch of shame blooming on the cheek closest to me.
āI told him Iād been faking with him all this time,ā she said softly. āItās not his fault. He tried so hard, and he had no way of knowing that I wasnāt turned on enough for any of it to work, because I never told him before. But I couldnāt just let him know he was getting nowhere when he touched me, without letting him know why! And I couldnāt tell someone this shit about me, when we were just starting out together. And once I started lyingā¦.ā
She folded her arms on top of her knees and buried her face in them.
āMaybe I should have just kept faking my way through the sex,ā she said. āHe was so good to me, in so many other ways. I could have just gritted throughāā
āYou deserve better than having to āgrit throughā your whole sex life,ā I said.
Rachel shrugged and let out a snort of air. āWhat if itās not about deserving? What if the kind of, you know, sex god Iāve got my heart set on, what if itās not actually possible for him to overlap with the kind of man I can trust and respect? The kind who doesnāt expect to be treated like god of everything all the time.ā
She sat back on the couch and wiped her face.
āI just want sex to beā¦ā she turned her d20 thoughtfully in her hand, āto be like this, actually. Like playing one of your games. I want to give myself over to a magical world, where I donāt know exactly whatās going to happen, but I do know that Iām going on an adventure run by someone who wants me to have fun. Someone who gets that it wonāt be fun if he makes it too easy for me. I want someone who makes me argue. Like, Iāll say, āI should be able to do the thing because xyz,ā and heāll hear me out and sometimes say yes, but he wonāt be afraid to say no when Iām bending the rules too far. When Iām making it less fun. And then, I want him to be able to switch it the fuck off and just be my normal, equal friend again when weāre done or need a break. Thatās what I want. I want my sex life to be run by a good DM. Is that so much to ask?ā
She looked up at me, her bloodshot eyes wide and focused, one eyebrow lifted inquisitively upward.
Jesus Christ, if thatās not what a window looks like, Iāll never recognize one.
āGive me ten minutes,ā I said.
Ā
#
Ā
It was the fastest, most slapdash setup Iād ever done, for the most important game of my life. I was going to have to improv so much stuff on the fly.
Yet from the moment I sat down at my bedroom desk and started sketching characters and writing out stats, I felt calmer than I had at any point on the couch that evening.
I knew exactly what I was doing.
When I returned to the living room, Rachel burst out laughing, and I didnāt even care.
I had changed out of my wizardās attire and into a black roughspun shirt, with a lace-up neck which I left deliberately loose. Iād done my eyeliner too, something Iād never done for anyone but myself before. I hadnāt yet learned how to be the most precise with it, but I didnāt need to be, to get that sunken, punky, ambiguously undead look I was going for.
Rachel put a hand over her still-smiling mouth.
Laughs always came first for new characters, and then all the other feelings.
I sat in the folding chair on the opposite side of the coffee table, where I would have been sitting all along if Cameron had been there on the couch with her.
āYou remember that young human spy character you were working on?ā I asked.
āArianna Brighton?ā she said.
I tossed her the character sheet.
āYou, Arianna, have just been sacrificed to the demon prince, Bastidio, as his latest virgin bride.ā
Rachel giggled again, and her eyes glinted with joy, as well as amusement.
āIt was your own idea, a way of infiltrating his home in Hell,ā I went on with the setup. āGetting yourself on the bride roster was the easy part. This guy goes through ābridesā on a monthly basis, so even the regions that worship him unquestioningly are in constant short supply. The real challenge starts now. Your top-secret mission here is to search Bastidioās personal files for the sins of one particular dead man, one Earnest Kniles. As a failsafe, your handler sent you in with a magic escape word: flutterby. If you so much as think this word with intention to use it, youāll be instantly transported back to Earth. The longer you spend in Bastidioās presence, however, the more you expose yourself to his infernal gifts of persuasion. It would be easy to lose yourself here, and forget that you ever had a will of your own.ā
Rachel rubbed her palms together in anticipation.
āAfter you allow Bastidioās Earthly acolytes to kick you through the sacrificial portal, you materialize in a palatial dining room, sitting at a table long enough to host a hundred people. All of that space is empty at the moment, except for yourself, and, on your left, at the head of the table, the prince himself. Right now, he looks basically like a man. Very handsome, in a sickly, malnourished, Burtonesque kind of way. But he does have a prominent pair of ridged horns, and when he moves, you notice that the speed and effort of his motions donāt quite line up with what youād expect for the dimensions of his body. Thereās clearly something bigger and incomprehensibly more powerful controlling this form of a man in front of you.ā
āUh huh. So, am I dead now?ā Rachel asked.
āYouāre, like, provisionally dead,ā I explained. āYou could theoretically just stay here like this and be immortal if nothing changed, but you still have the ability to return to Earth in your own body as a living person. You can also be injured and killed just like on Earth, and potentially end up in a different part of the afterlife.ā
āOkay, cool.ā
āPrince Bastidio leans forward to take your hand,ā I said, and leaned forward to take Rachelās. āāWelcome home, Ms. Brighton. I know this may not be the existence you imagined for yourself, but please believe me when I tell you, all of Hell and Earth salute your sacrifice.ā And he slides out of his chair, onto his knee, and kisses your hand.ā
As I narrated, I did the same, holding Rachelās gaze as I took one knee and pressed my lips to the soft skin between her knuckles.
During an everyday game, I tended to get pretty into my gestures as I strove to embody all of the NPCs the players interacted with. While caught in the moment, I might reach out to hold someoneās hand, but that was about all the contact Iād go for.
To my relief, Rachel watched me cross that line and grinned, like it was exactly what sheād been hoping for.
Okay. So, this game wasnāt going to be just words and dice and paper.
Rachel squeezed my hand, held the moment a little longer, and then said, āSo, I can roll for insight on this guy, yeah?ā
āGo for it.ā
She rolled. āSixteen plus twoā¦ eighteen.ā
āEighteen? Nice. You donāt sense any direct deception from Prince Bastidio. He has secrets, for sure, but he honestly does seem to want you to feel comfortable and appreciated, if possible.ā
āDo I have my weapons?ā
āNo. You were sent through the portal in just ceremonial, like, baptismal clothes.ā
āAre there knives at the dinner table?ā
āā¦Sure, you see some steak knives lying around.ā
āI stab him in the neck and run for his office.ā
I laughed. āAlready? Weāre going right from hello to neck stabbing?ā
āI came here to do a job, didnāt I?ā asked Rachel.
Iād had this whole simmering dinner scene sketched out in my mind, but frustrating as it could be, this was a big part of why I loved playing with Rachel. Stories were much less interesting when they played out unchallenged, exactly the way Iād predicted.
āRoll to attack,ā I said.
Rachel rolled. āNatural twenty, baby!ā
āSeriously?ā I laughed. āRoll for damage then.ā
She did.
āYou plunge the serrated blade into the meat of his neck, right about where his carotid artery would be flowing if he were a living human, dealing seven points of damage and taking him completely off guard.ā
Rachel acted out my narration with a thankfully imaginary knife, and I gurgled and stumbled backward.
āSo now youāre running down the completely unfamiliar hallways of a palace in Hell, I reminded her. Roll for perception.ā
āSeventeen,ā Rachel rolled and checked her character sheet. āPlusā¦ that makes twenty-one total.ā
āUnreal,ā I said. āThereās a door up ahead on your left that says, āPrince Bastidioās Office, please knock before entering.ā Itās slightly ajar.ā
āI investigate the room, to see if I can figure out how he stores his files on individual sinners.ā
āAwesome. Roll for it.ā
Rachel tossed the die and winced. āOoh, natural one. Do I, like, give myself a horrible papercut rifling through his files?ā
āFiles? What files?ā I joked. āYou see arcane instruments, indecipherable runes, nothing that says āfiling systemā to you.ā
āHmm. Okay. No, wait.ā Rachel pointed to a line on her character sheet. āIām going to use āindirect breakthrough.ā When I fail at figuring something out, it makes it so that I instead stumble on some unrelated but significant information.ā
āNice. Letās seeā¦.ā The sparseness of the scenario Iād planned out gave me a narrow range of breakthroughs to offer her. āWhat you do see is a map of Hell on the wall. You see Prince Bastidioās territory demarcated within it. That territory is labeled, āPits of Casual Cruelty.ā There are spots marked around the border, showing the wards that contain the souls that dwell here, the souls condemned for just everyday but relentless, remorseless shittiness. Each ward has its current strength level marked, kind of like the battery symbol on a cell phone. None of them are doing great. Below the map is a leger. You canāt read most of whatās in it, but there are lists of names, written in their original Earthly tongues.ā
āAre they womenās names?ā Rachel asked.
āThey are womenās names,ā I confirmed. āAnd thereās a column of what look like numbers on the right side, which shift from black to red as the pages go on, as if an enterprise is sinking slowly into debt.ā
āThe virgin sacrifices hold the damned souls in place!ā Rachel deduced with satisfaction. āCan I tell who set up that bullshit system?ā
āThere are more legers in this room, dating back to time immemorial, basically.ā
āAnd how old is Prince Bastidio?ā
āFrom your preexisting research, his cult only came into being about three hundred years ago.ā
āAh, so, he inherited the whole deflowering virgins to keep the wards of Hell in place job.ā
āFor his particular region of Hell, yes, that seems to be the case.ā
āGot it. I love me a complicated fictional badboy.ā
āI know,ā I said, smirking.
Iād based Bastidio largely on the characters Rachel had most enjoyed hitting on in past campaigns, and I felt the warm little glow that came with eliciting exactly the reaction Iād been aiming for.
āPrince Bastidio unhurriedly catches up and enters the office behind you,ā I said.
āHey, so, hubby,ā said Rachel. āWhat you do looks super fascinating. Before we get down to business, could you maybe walk me through a day in the life of a royal demon?ā
I couldnāt help laughing at her innocent face. āRoll for persuasion.ā
āIāve got plus ten to charisma, baby,ā Rachel said, and rolled. āTen plusā¦ oof, thatās a three. Thirteen total.ā
āāI safeguard damned souls,ā says Bastidio.ā I arched one eyebrow and filled Bastidioās voice with regal, no-nonsense condescension. āāDo you think Iāve never heard someone stall, before?āā
Rachel drew her chin sheepishly down toward her chest.
āHe snaps his fingers,ā I said, doing so, āand instantly teleports you both to a lush bedroom, all furnished in red and black, with a huge four-post canopy bed.ā
I stood up from my chair.
Rachel stood up with me, die and character sheets in hand.
So slowly, eyes locked to each other, like that game where one person pretends to be the other oneās mirror, we walked from the living room into my own less-than-lush bedroom.
āPrince Bastidio puts a hand on your shoulder,ā I said, putting my hand on hers. āHeās totally calm, without a trace of anger over the whole knife thing. He says, āIām afraid I will have you, Ms. Brighton. Would you prefer I endeavor to make it pleasant, or quick?āā
āI punch him in the junk,ā said Rachel.
A snort escaped me.
āRoll to attack,ā I said.
She rolled the die on my dresser. āFourteen.ā
āFourteen does not hit him,ā I said.
Rachel threw a downward punch, and let me catch her wrist easily in my hand, and wrench her arm up between us.
āWith a flick of his wrist, Prince Bastidio directs a wave of Hell magic toward you,ā I said. āRoll for dexterity.ā
Rachel rolled. āOoh, thatās a four.ā
āFourās not going to help you,ā I said, not even trying to suppress my smile. āInvisible tendrils wrap around your limbs, and then through them, not damaging you, but infiltrating and essentially seizing control of every muscle in your body. You feel your arms and legs, your midsection and neck, all of your individual fingers and toes, harden to the consistency of wood under your skin, until you freeze into a statue before him.ā
Rachel acted out the process beautifully, starting with a wild swing for the door, then a couple of increasingly laborious steps that took her only as far as the side of the bed, where she came to a teetering stop.
I stepped around to the front of her, put the tip of one finger to her forehead, and ever so slightly pushed.
She toppled backward onto the bed, holding that same rigid position so perfectly, you could almost swear she was really stuck in it.
āHe arranges you on his bed,ā I said, pushing down on Rachelās left leg, which was still extended in mid-step. āThe tendrils operating your muscles soften and bend effortlessly to his will, but harden against any attempt to move under your own power.ā
I adjusted her in a few more places, straightening out her slightly crooked spine, making sure her head was fully resting on the bed, until she looked comfortable.
āCan I still talk to him?ā Rachel asked.
āNo,ā I said. āThe invisible tendrils are holding your jaw and tongue in place.ā
She shut her mouth with a snap.
I ran my fingers slowly along the waistband of her jeans, to the fastening.
āWhat you can still do is think your magic escape word and return to Earth,ā I said. āTell me if you decide to.ā
Rachelās mouth remained firmly closed, motionless except for the involuntary upward twitching at the corners.
āThe demon prince removes what clothes he finds inconvenient,ā I said, unbuttoning her jeans and pulling them, along with her lace-trimmed panties, down over her tense, immobile ass and legs.
There was heat radiating palpably from the skin underneath, and I took a moment to stroke the backs of my fingernails up over her thighs.
āHis touch is careful but businesslike, with an aftertaste of tenderness. Itās like heās really trying to treat your body like nothing more than a valuable, delicate piece of equipment, but canāt quite forget the presence of a soul inside it.ā
I put her hands over her head, with the die still in one of them, and pushed her legs apart. She remembered the rules of the spell, allowing herself to be spread without resistance, but then returning to her rigid state.
āThatās it for Prince Bastidioās turn,ā I said. āCatching you in his binding spell and moving you into position for the ritual deflowering.ā
āBut I canāt do anything on my turn, can I?ā Rachel asked.
āYou can try to break free of the spell with a raw strength check,ā I suggested, ābut with your stats, itās going to take a nat twenty.ā
āI guess thatās what I do, then.ā
Moving only as much as the task absolutely required, Rachel opened the clenched hand holding her d20, letting it fall off the bed and onto the floor.
It was a sixteen.
I picked it up and pressed it back into her hand.
āNo such luck. Bastidioās turn again. Youāre still fully immobilized and at his mercy.ā
Rachel didnāt look the least bit broken up about this course of events.
āEven though youāre fully splayed out at this point,ā I said, āBastidio continues exploring your body for what seems like a little bit longer than necessary to get the job done.ā
Rachelās nipples were straining through her bra and soft t-shirt. I tapped each one in turn with a finger, through the fabric, and then ran my hands down to her naked pelvis. I pressed one palm flat over her utterly available pussy, just to feel the streak of moisture along my skin.
āāOne more chance to answer,ā Bastidio growls in your ear,ā I said, leaning down toward her ear to do exactly that. āāGive me one scream for pleasant, two screams for quick.āā
Without hesitation, Rachel screamed one short, sharp blast in her throat, from behind her sealed jaw, and then was silent.
āVery well.ā
I crawled backward, lowered my head, and blew softly over her pussy, watching the close-trimmed hairs stand on end in response. Then I kissed it, starting with the lips on one side, then the other, licking and softly sucking, making my way up to her clit.
I touched it ever so slightly with the tip of my tongue.
Rachel managed not to move any major muscles, but that tiny little bump moved on its own, stretching upward, and her lips glistened with fresh moisture that was not from my mouth.
I licked a light circle around her clit for several more seconds, just barely touching it without pressing down, and then dipped the tip of my tongue briefly, experimentally, into her opening.
Rachel hummed and giggled and gasped and sighed, but remained a statue. The only time I saw her falter was when I pulled away, and it was only for a moment.
She didnāt even try to bend her neck to look at anything but the ceiling.
I unbuckled my belt, letting it clatter obviously, and stripped from the waist down too.
āAriannaās turn,ā I said. āYou can feel the power of Prince Bastidioās spell degrading over time, becoming, not easy to break, but less impossible by the moment. You have seconds left before he full-on takes you, and uses this tender, intimate moment of your young life as fuel for his infernal containment enchantments. Enough time still to use your word, or for one more strength check. You need a fifteen.ā
Rachel tossed the die.
I had never been more excited to see a player fail.
āTwelve,ā I said, returning the die to her. āBastidio presses the head of his demon cock against your helpless, magically bound human form.ā
I lined myself up between her legs.
āDemon cock?ā Rachel asked.
āItās a cock, it belongs to a demon,ā I clarified. āIt thankfully feels pretty normal, though.ā
āNot that I would have any contextāā
āNo, not that you would have any context for what a normal cock feels like,ā I acknowledged quickly, ābeing raised to your recent adulthood in an all-girls spy academy and all. But itās not barbed or spewing brimstone or anything.ā
āOkay, cool.ā
āYou feel a moment of pressure and resistance,ā I said, pressing down on her, steadying myself with my hand. āAnd then, pop,ā I slid past the tight entryway, āitās in. You can feel an eerie, tingling, magical energy sweep through you, through Bastidio, rushing from your interlocking body parts out in all directions to the boarders of this particular realm of Hell. The conditions have technically been met for the wards to stay in place another month, but the magic is still flowing, and you get the sense that thereās more that still has to happen to make them as strong as they can be.ā
āIt has to be good?ā Rachel guessed.
āRoll for perception, if you want.ā
She did, and got an eighteen.
āIt at least has to be good for him,ā I said.
āTypical.ā Rachel rolled her eyes.
āBut he seems to be taking that quick-or-pleasant question he asked you deadly seriously,ā I went on, slowly sinking the rest of the way into her, all the way to the base. āHeās taking his time, moving in gentle stages that give you the chance to adjust to his presence, along with the binding spell tendrils inside you. After a few seconds, you find that you have more room for him than you would have expected. Only then does he really begin to fuck.ā
Rachel giggled. I backed out enough to give her a deep, quick thrust, and the sound became a moan.
She closed her eyes, and for a moment, I felt my attention slip perilously back toward myself.
Toward my deeply average dick, which was never going to make any princes of darkness blush.
Toward this silly costume shirt Iād bought explicitly because I knew Rachel like them, and then never had the nerve to wear before today.
Toward the fact that, holy shit, I was having sex, I was having sex with Rachel.
Toward how overwhelmingly, physically fucking awesome it felt inside her.
Every thought I let in about what I was doing, in reality, made me want to shrivel and run, either with or without a game-breakingly premature ejaculation happening first.
All I could do to hold it off was be the dungeon master, just be the dungeon master, watch and guide and enforce the integrity of the story as my players, my player, explored and gave it form.
Lucky for me, Rachel needed a bit of integrity enforcement right about then.
She started off following the rules, but before long, she began to move under me, stiffly and subtly at first, then blatantly grinding against me. Her face rose up, head tilting back in search of a kiss.
I grabbed her by a hip joint with one hand and her throat with the other, and shoved her flat to the bed again.
āNope, you failed that roll,ā I reminded her. āYouāre still immobilized. Youāll get another chance to break free on your turn.ā
Rachel stiffened back into shape and whimpered pitifully through her sealed, smiling lips.
I didnāt think Iād ever seen her so happy before.
Now, I may not have had the most sexual experience, but I was a sponge for knowledge when a subject interested me. Authentic instructions on how to pleasure a woman, or even accurate diagrams of typical female anatomy, werenāt easy to stumble across by accident, and they werenāt spoon-fed to boys in school. But they were possible to find if you went looking, and you knew anything about how to use a search engine or evaluate the credibility of your sources.
The few women I had gotten the chance to fool around with casually in college had also been more than willing to educate me on how things felt and what they liked, once I managed to convince them that I actually wanted accurate feedback.
So, you could say I knew exactly what I was doing to Rachel now, when I sat up on my knees, held her rigid hips up off the bed, and continued thrusting into her from the lowest possible angle.
I knew that I was dragging myself back and forth along her g-spot, basically hitting the roots of her clitoris while ignoring its head. It wouldnāt hurt her, as long as she was well warmed up, which, by wetness of her and the sounds she was making, she sure seemed to be. It would just give her the open-ended feeling of building toward an orgasm that she probably couldnāt actually reach, until she got that head-on contact.
Obviously, Rachel hadnāt exactly had the chance to talk me through the foibles of her body in particular, but if a lack of orgasms was a major part of what had plagued her fraught love life, I doubted her win conditions were any easier than the average.
In short, I knew what a vicious tease I was being. And she was taking it.
The power of that was a hell of a rush, I wonāt lie. But I couldnāt let it go to my head.
In a high-urgency encounter like this one, a characterās turn was only supposed to last about ten to fifteen in-game seconds, and I was acting out Bastidioās ravishment of Arianna in basically real time.
I started the count from when Rachel had stopped moving again ā just a little penalty for her attempt at cheating, I reasoned ā and allowed myself fifteen full, deep thrusts before forcing myself to stop.
It was a close call. Even with my mind on the story, and on Rachel, my body was approaching its limits.
Rachel was panting with the effort of keeping still, and now so was I.
āRoll,ā I told her. āThis time a ten gets you free.ā
Rachel tossed the die onto the floor.
I had to lean down on top of her to reach down and pick it up. She shamelessly lifted her pelvis to try to bump it together with mine on my way.
āThatās a nine,ā I said, sitting back up before she could do much damage.
āSo, I get most of the way free?ā Rachel tested me hopefully.
āNope.ā
āLike, my calf and shin muscles are still stuck in one position, but everything else works normally, right?ā she pushed again, sweetly.
Well, if that was the way she wanted to play itā¦.
āWhat would you do if you did break most of the way free?ā I asked.
āReach down and touch myself, right in front of him,ā she answered, face lighting up. āYou know, just to let him know that I know whatās up and Iām not afraid of him? And take away that little bit of leverage he might have over my mind by holding out on me. Iād be like, āYou think youāre using me for your needs, your shadowy highness? I can use you for mine, too.āā
I grinned.
āYou put all your will, every ounce of strength you have, into moving your right arm,ā I told her. āYou picture yourself reaching your hand down to your pussy, and stroking it in your favorite way, with the demon prince still inside you. You imagine turning his cock from this fierce, conquering intruder into, like, an auxiliary toy, something thatās just there to enhance your masturbation experience without even being the main event. You strain against the invisible magic tendrils inside your triceps, until you feel something snap.ā
Rachel took in an excited gasp.
āWith all your strength committed to this motion, and all resistance suddenly gone, your arm goes from being still as a statue to flinging wildly through the air. Your aimās dead-on, though.ā
Rachelās face dropped gradually into a pout as it dawned on her where this was going.
āYou try to pull back at the last moment, but your own flailing hand slaps you on the pussy, and then your arm sort of falls to the side on the bed, immobile again, because youād need to use a different muscle group to lift it back up.ā
She took a few nervous, bracing breaths.
āYou have enough time while your handās in flight to return to Earth,ā I suggested. āOr, tell you what, you canāā
Rachel slapped herself with loud, wild gusto ā much more than I would have asked or expected of her. I would have accepted the lightest, most symbolic slap she wanted to give me, but her arm swung a full, believably uncontrolled arc, before landing right where it was supposed to, and rolling aside.
She twitched and grunted on impact, holding to her position with impressive precision, and for a moment, I thought that was going to be her whole reaction.
Then, āOh fuck oh fuck oh fuck.ā
āAre you okay?ā I asked, in my most neutral DM voice, trying to hold back a twinge of doubt and regret until I was sure it was necessary.
āYeah,ā Rachel moaned. āI justā¦ Iād have thought that would make me less horny. But I thinkā¦ I think I might actually be even hornier than I was before. I mean, Arianna is. Because I still canāt talk as her right now, I can only talk about her. Right?ā
āRight,ā I said, needing to take a moment for a fit of internal laughter to pass. āThat going to be Bastidioās turn.ā
I thrusted into her, hard, to underline the shift.
Rachel moaned through her teeth but did not move.
Relying heavily on what real-life stamina Iād been able to regain in that short break, I fucked her ruthlessly for another fifteen seconds, mostly from that same low, teasing angle, though I did lean forward over her briefly, just to make sure she still wanted the same attention after the smack.
She restrained herself from grinding on me this time, but when I reached my hand under her ass, I could feel the muscles tensing as if they were trying to grind, and only barely being held back.
To make absolutely sure, I sat back up and walked my fingers toward her clit. Her face reacted with the same flashes of hope and excitement.
I removed my hand back to her hips, and stopped again.
āAriannaās turn,ā I said. āThe spell is wearing thin against your struggles. You only need a five to break it.ā
Rachel tossed the die almost before Iād finished speaking.
I reached down to pick it up.
āSeven,ā I read aloud. āBut thatāll do it.ā
Rachel burst instantly out of her rigid pose and grabbed me around the shoulders, dragging the length of my body close to hers. She locked one leg around my back and planted the other for leverage, bucking powerfully under me in search of friction where she needed it.
āIs that all you do with your turn?ā I asked, laughing. āFight off the spell and hug Bastidio, prince ofāā
āI try to flip myself top of him!ā Rachel exclaimed.
āGood luck with that,ā I said. āRoll for strength.ā
Rachel threw her die.
Seventeen. Not bad, but I was directly opposing her as a fucking demon prince, here.
Iād left my own d20 in the living room, so I picked up hers and rolled it again for myself, and laughed louder.
āPrince Bastidio gets a nat one!ā I confessed, returning her die to her hand.
Rachel hurled her momentum sideways into a barrel roll, and I had no fair option but to let her.
She sat up on top of me, with my cock still inside her, braced her hands on my chest, and began grinding against me with almost startling strength for her compact, soft-looking frame.
I supposed Prince Bastidio must have been equally surprised.
Clearly enjoying the use of her arms, Rachel grabbed her shirt and pulled it off, bra and all, right over her head without stopping to unfasten it.
She ran her hands over her breasts, over those still rock-hard nipples, and then grabbed one of my hands and ran that over one of them too.
They were so much softer, so much more alive, without the fabric to hold them.
āWould you say,ā she asked, āfor a roll like that, I get to cum before he does?ā
āThat depends,ā I said, playing it cool but very aware of the involuntary time limit on my own capacities, ticking away with every move she made. āHow close are you?ā
āCome on, it was a nat one!ā said Rachel. āCanāt I do pretty much whatever I want with him at that point? Please?ā
āOh, Iāll allow it,ā I said. āBut only if itās real.ā
Rachelās arguments melted. She smiled shyly and picked up the pace, rocking her hips even more frantically.
āDonāt you lie to me now,ā I warned her, reaching up to pinch one of her nipples and tug her down toward me by it. āThe story goes how the story goes. You donāt fake a die roll, and you donāt fake this. If you canātāā
āI can, I think, Iām not lying, I promise, Iā¦ oh, god!ā
All at once, Rachel cried out, and dug her fingers hard into my chest, tangling them in the laces of my shirt and snagging a few hairs. The rhythm of her hips stopped for a moment, and then was replaced by a slower, more deliberate wiggle, like trying to coax out the last of some precious substance in a nearly empty container.
I watched with an admittedly critical eye, as Rachel moaned, gasped, and trembled on top of me. I knew how good an actress she could be when she got into her characters, and I knew that my judgment might be clouded by how badly and how long Iād wanted to make her feel this with me.
But I could feel spasms in her legs. I could see her pulse in her tossed-back neck, the way it crescendoed and then calmed in the aftermath. I could smell the difference in the air, as the moisture already freely dripping down from her suddenly quickened.
So, I didnāt interrogate her when she stopped and sat still, messily brushing her hair out of her face, and panted, āIā¦ I did itā¦ Iāve never actuallyā¦ with another personā¦ beforeā¦ Iā¦ Sethā¦ā she leaned down and kissed me heavily on the mouth. āOh my god. That wasā¦.ā
I took the die out of her hand and tossed it onto the floor.
āWhat does it say?ā I asked.
āHuh? Oh.ā Rachel leaned over to retrieve it. āItās a fourteen.ā
āOn his turn, Prince Bastidio says, āIf you wanted to face the floor, you only had to say so,ā and he grabs you, rotates you around a hundred and eighty degrees, and shoves you forward so your face is up against the bed. You can roll to resist, but youāll do it with disadvantage from being all doped up on afterglow.ā
Rachel kept panting for breath, for the first time looking overwhelmed by simple arithmetic and stage directions.
āOr,ā I reminded her, āof course you can still use yourāā
āIām not using the magic teleporting safeword,ā Rachel stopped me.
She shifted her hips, seeming to regain her awareness of me inside her, still hard and unfinished.
āSorry,ā she said, āIāllā¦ of course Iāll roll. I have to roll, right?ā
āNo, you donāt have to fight him if you donāt want to.ā
āRight. Okay. Well, I got mine, and I donāt think Iām actively fighting to sabotage the containment of Hell, so I think I just want to give him what he wants.ā
āGet on your knees, then.ā
Rachel complied, unsteady but unhesitating. Neither of us were quite agile enough to fully act out the move Iād described, shifting from cowgirl to doggie without pulling out in between, but we got to the same place eventually, and I got the pleasure of sliding myself back into her from the new angle.
She moaned again softly and laid her upper body down on the bed as I did so. Her ass was still propped up for me, her knees firmly under her, but her back arched downward from there, catlike and graceful, to where her head, with glasses askew, rested on one outstretched arm. She looked altogether blissfully content.
For the first time since weād started, I let myself look at her just to marvel, rather than to anticipate or argue or instruct.
Fuck, she was beautiful. She was so much more beautiful than Iād ever let myself acknowledge while clinging to the safety of her friendship. I would have lost my grip if I had.
This view of her felt too perfect to exist anywhere, let alone in my bedroom, laid out so trustingly, generously, almost gratefully, just for me.
It was a bizarre thing, to be regarded with gratitude for something I would have given anything to do.
There were times, even in the course of ordinary DM-ing, when I felt my head start to spin at the responsibility involved. Rachel and the rest of our ever-cycling set of adventuring companions implanted fragments of their souls into these characters they crafted, and placed them freely into my hands. They gave me permission to break their hearts if the story and the dice demanded it, and when they were finished cursing me, they thanked me, for making them feel.
The feelings were real, but I could always at least technically tell myself that it was āonlyā a game. āOnlyā make-believe.
This time was maybe kinda-sorta a little less āonlyā than usual.
The weight of that pressed down on me, but also steadied me, like one of those balance poles tightrope walkers used, as I took my last penetrative turn of the encounter.
While I rubbed myself against the soft, wet, post-orgasmic walls of her pussy, Rachel hummed happily to herself, vocally registering pleasure of a new, languid, unurgent variety.
I paid attention to every detail, trying to engrave them into my memory, every breath, every glance and smile she shot up at me, the smoothness of her skin under my fingers, and the snug curve of her around me.
I didnāt even make it to fifteen seconds.
The orgasm Iād put off for so many moves hit me like an avalanche, sending shiny blurs across my vision and making me clutch Rachelās beautiful hips just to hold myself upright.
I stayed where I was, floating in shimmering clouds of magic, until it felt feasible that I might be able to move without falling. Then I slid out of her, let myself collapse on the bed beside her, and reached down for the box of tissues I kept beside it.
While we passed the box back and forth, cleaning ourselves, catching our breath, I pieced words together in an almost comforting act of habit.
āAt the same moment when Prince Bastidio finishes inside you, you feel a final, magical energy surge, emanating out of that same place,ā I spread my hands outward to illustrate. āThen it stops. The waves already in progress continue to spread out toward the bounds of his domain, leaving a peaceful stillness in their wake. You get the sense that this place is now secure, for better or worse, at least for now.ā
Rachel rolled over and propped her head up to smile at me. For a moment, I thought she was going to tease me for bothering with the conclusion.
Then she said, āWhat about the sins of that guy I was looking into? Earnest Kniles?ā
āYou never figured out about that,ā I said. āMaybe next session.ā
āNext session, huh?ā Rachel asked with a significant smirk, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear. āOkay.ā
I lay back on the bed, and she cuddled up next to me.
Our breathing synchronized, slow and steady, until I started to wonder whether she had fallen asleep.
Then, āSo, what now?ā
She was asking me. Not the demon prince Bastidio, not the DM controlling Bastidio. Just me. Just Seth.
I felt my shoulders pull up toward a shrug, even with her head resting on my chest. Every functioning system of my body and mind was engaging, with the sole shared purpose of locking me back into the same safe cell where Iād kept myself for the duration of our friendship.
I forced myself to speak the first words I could grasp.
āRoll for insight.ā
Ā
***
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