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I want to double roll my eyes.
Continuing my perusal of the other Players, I take note of Lily, who stands more self-assured than the first day I met her. Lily appears to be growing more confident by the day; not in an outward expression like Monica and Stella, who feel they need to prove themselves, but in a quiet, determined way. She’s fitting into the role better than I thought she would, but I’m still proud to see she’s exceeded everyone’s expectations.
If I’m looking to win, Lily is my biggest threat. I stand by that. She and Heathe have good chemistry.
Can Laurence and I have good chemistry?
“This is how today’s game works,” Iris interrupts my thought. “It’s your first test of desire and seduction. Your last game tested your communication and honesty. Today, it tests your bodyandcommunication. First, you will be signing these consent forms as well as the NDA’s.”
While we sign the paperwork, Iris continues speaking.
“A reminder. You may opt out of the game at any time by saying what?” Iris leans forward, waiting for the response to her cue.
“Deditio,” the group calls out.
“Meaning what?” Iris prompts.
“I surrender.”
“And surrender implies immediate disqualification. As for the game today… your Advocate will be blindfolded, your hands will be bound. The goal is pleasure, entertainment. You will have an audience of your betters watching from behind the mirror. I hope you’re all exhibitionists.” Iris grins. “You may step up to your doors.”
As we all walk forward, I exchange a glance with Lily, whose eyes are alight with a vibrant curiosity and none of her initial apprehension at the games. I must admit, my curiosity is getting the better of me, too. I’ve been waiting for the games to take their turn in this direction, and the excitement of having an even better Advocate, one who helped come up with these games, excites me even more. I practically bounce on the balls of my feet, ready for the go ahead to enter.
“Let the games begin,” Iris says, and we enter our doors.
It’s empty, and at first I’m disappointed. When the door opens again behind me, my heart leaps in my chest until I’m met with a stranger.
“Hello,” I greet the stranger, and then I realize he holds a rope. I’m meant to be bound before Laurence comes in.
“Lay down,” the rope artist instructs, not hesitating to get straight down to business.
I lay down on the plush, velvet bed which is elevated off the ground about as high as a doctor’s table, but about the size of a full bed. I lay my head down and realize for the first time that there’s a mirror above me. Was that there before?
Above my head, the rope artist pulls out something from underneath the bed, and I turn to look at it. “It’s just the ring attachment I tie the rope to. Arms above your head please.”
I do as I’m told. I’m getting strangely used to that, finding a beautiful surrender to it.
The rope artist gently grabs my wrists, placing them next to each other as I feel the coarse rope wrapped around them. The rope artist gets to work, and I watch him craft a knot in the ceiling mirror. He gives a tug, checking the stability, and then I feel my arms slightly extended as he loops the rope through the ring at my head, securing me in place.
“How’s the give?” He slides a finger underneath the rope. “How’s the tightness?”
I give a tug on the ropes, feeling I’m left with little freedom to move about except to rotate onto my stomach, and there’s no over tightness or discomfort from the rope.
“It feels good.”
“Good.” The rope artist nods and sends me a wink. “Have fun.”
I can’t help but smile. “I will.”
He leaves the room.
I’m left to wait with nothing to do but look at myself in the ceiling mirror in nothing but the lingerie that was left for me to wear for today’s games. I would assume Laurence picked it out. It’s nothing extravagant, nothing too flashy. A classic straplesscorset with matching panties and garter belt, and of course in the same shade of blue as my eyes. I find that amusing.
With the dim, warm lighting, the perfectly controlled temperature of the room, and the silence, there’s something incredibly erotic about waiting, about watching myself. My back arches against the bed and I shift impatiently, craving the touch I’m about to receive.
The door opens and Laurence walks in. In his hand is a blindfold.
“Good morning, Ten,” he exhales contently at the sight of me restrained for him.
