Truth or Dare Read online

  Truth or Dare

  by Matt Nicholson

  Truth or Dare

  Published by Darker Pleasures at Smashwords

  Copyright 2012 Matt Nicholson. All rights reserved.

  Beta Read by Susan Foulkes

  Cover image by joseasreyes/123RF Stock Photos

  Smashword Edition, License Notes

  This work contains graphic language and sexual depictions of sometimes extreme consensual and semi-consensual female bondage and sadomasochism. It is intended for mature audiences only and is not suitable for persons under eighteen years of age. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters places and incidents are products of the authors’ imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce or redistribute this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever. For information, address Darker Pleasures, webmaster at darkerpleasures.com.

  “Truth or Dare?”

  I fingered the sleep from the inside corner of my left eye and tried to figure out who was on the other end of the line. Once my eyes focused enough so I could read the caller I.D., I groaned. The glowing blue Wal-mart LCD numbers lighting the dark room told me it was way too fucking early.

  “Shit, Cecilia, you’re my goddamn ex-girlfriend, not my alarm clock. It’s fuckin’ 6:00 in the morning.” ‘Polite’ wasn’t in my vocabulary that early in the morning, especially on a Saturday.

  “Just answer the question, dickhead.” She obviously couldn’t have cared less.

  Of course, I didn't really feel too bad for snapping at her, ‘polite’ was never in her vocabulary. We had that kind of relationship. It was one of the reasons I’d busted up with her. Great looking or not, not only did she never call me by my name, she was nuts. I thought about hanging up, but knew she’d just call back. She’d never let me get back to sleep if I didn’t humor her. Taking a dare, though, was stupid on every level I could think of, even half asleep. “OK, shit… Truth.”

  “Would you like to torture my tits?”

  I pushed the phone away from my face and stared at it for a second. I wasn’t dreaming, so it had to be a set-up. “Is this a trick question?”

  “Do you think I’d be up this early if it was? Just answer the fucking question.”

  I thought about her tits. They were her best assets. Hell, they were what kept me with her six months too long. I get caught way too often looking at cleavage and tight t-shirts and almost wreck any time a hot woman jogs past. As far as I’m concerned, burning bras should have become mandatory.

  For me, a good fuck becomes a great fuck if it includes a lot of tit squeezing and nipple twisting. It becomes an incredible fuck if I really get to treat ‘em rough. It becomes transcendental if I get to leave teeth marks.

  I’d wondered about that quite a few times. I mean, what is it about one part of anatomy that makes men do such stupid things when other parts just simply don’t register? Why do half the guys on the planet feel the same way about a nice round ass?

  I’d finally decided that it was just hard-wiring—programming left over from man’s first days, the candy that drove them to cover the planet in kids.

  In Cecilia’s case, that candy came in C-cupped handfuls, my favorite. They were a sun-deprived white because she didn’t want the rays messing up her skin. While I would have preferred some tan lines at least, white was fine, especially since it was her easily crinkled, light brown, oval-shaped areolae and half-inch thick, rosy-red nipples that got the lion’s share of my attention anyway.

  Any way it went, she liked it when I played with them. In fact, she qualified as enough of a pain slut that she laughed about the bruises. She said the rough stuff helped her come. For the longest time, she didn’t have to twist my arm. But, like I said, she was nuts. Hot sex and hotter tits were too little reward for the long-term risk, even for a tit man.

  But she’d caught me at a weak moment. With the image of her boobs etched in my mind, I thought about the rest of her. She had long, wavy brown hair that she used to hide said boobs, just to tease me. She had a cute ass, flat tummy… Hell, if she’d have just kept her mouth shut, she’d have been great.

  I thought about her nutty question. Not that my cock wasn’t already hard, what with the images of her tits and nipples and all, but it got a little harder anyway. I hadn’t really gotten much since I broke up with her, so I had to at least see what was up.

  “Okay, I’ll bite. Sure, I’d like to torture your tits. Now, can I go back to bed?”

  “No, moron, meet me at 1117 Hempstead in an hour. And bring Gary with his camera.”

  “Cecilia, are you on drugs? I don’t even know if he's…”

  “He’s there, I called him already. Oh, and bring that soft white rope. I don’t have any rope.”

  She hung up before I could ask.

  If we hadn’t stayed friends, at least sort of, I’d have done my best to ignore her. But she really didn’t have any reason to screw with me. She may have been weird as shit, but I don’t remember her ever lying. And, like I said, it had been awhile. I figured, if she was talking about mixing her awe-inspiring tits with rope, there was bound to be some sex in there somewhere. Insanity or not, it was worth checking out, even at 6:00 in the morning.

  I considered exercising the universal safety valve, whacking off then going back to bed, but dismissed the idea. Instead, I rearranged my dick and went to the garage. I grabbed a coil of white nylon rope, imagined it wrapped around her wrists and ankles while I Bela Lugosied her tits, and threw it in the bed of my F150. Then, I called Gary.

  He was still half-asleep and didn’t even bother with a “Hello.” “She called you, too, huh?”

  Thinking caller I.D. had taken the mystery out of phones, I started the truck and put it in gear. “Yeah, what’d she tell you?”

  “She just said to get my camera stuff and wait for you to come pick me up.”

  “And you said, ‘Okay?’ To Cecilia? Without asking any questions?”

  “She said she’d pay me fifty bucks. Besides, she must have got to you, too, or you wouldn’t be calling me.”

  “Did she tell you why?”

  “Fuck, Jeff, I figured she wanted me to video something. I’m getting really sick of ramen noodles. For fifty bucks, I’m good.”

  “She asked if I wanted to torture her tits.”

  I could imagine his jaw dropping. I was half-way down my street before he said anything.

  “She wants me to take video of you torturing her tits?”

  “Sounds like.”

  “Is she paying you?”

  “Ah, I don’t think so.”

  “Who cares? Wanna trade?”

  ~~~

  We got there right at 7:00. The sign outside the office building read, “Superstars Photography and Video.” It was an older building, one of those where the rent would be cheap, with tan bricks that were decades out of style. We walked through the darkened reception area to the end of a dark hallway lit only by the light from a room near its end. When we got into the room, Gary set his tripod and stuff down, and I dropped the rope onto the clean, but worn and outdated gold-tone carpet. Cecilia was standing near a window facing away from us.

  Just as I started to say “Hi,” the over-sized men’s maroon shirt she was wearing slid down her back and off her arms. By the time it hit the floor, all she had on was a black bra and some sheer, black lace panties.

  While Gary and I gaped, she turned around. That shit-eating grin plastered across her face when she saw the looks on ours. Her stiff areolae were peeking over the top edge of the bra, and you could see the rest of her nipple behind the transparent fabric. That was all it took for my dick to get hard
again. I would have laughed when I heard Gary gasp, if I hadn’t already been biting back a gasp of my own.

  She walked up and gave me a piece of paper.

  “Here’s your script. I found this website that’s willing to pay me good money to do this. You do what it says, and Gary films it. I figure an hour, hour and a half, tops. All the props are under the sofa and on the end table so you can find them no matter what head you’re thinking with.”

  I stood by the end table and looked from the paper to the props and back again. I bet Gary almost laughed at me that time. It read more like a laundry list of things most guys dreamed of doing and less like anything resembling a ‘script,’ but since I was definitely a guy, it got my seal of approval. Besides stuff you’d expect—fondling and fingering—someone was supposed to whip her pussy with a leather flail, torture her nipples with clamps and poke them with… I know I did a double-take when I saw the word “needles” and a triple-take when I saw what they were eventually going to be used for.

  The understanding that the “someone” was me was just beginning to work its way through my caffeine-deprived brain when I looked from the Inquisition checklist at her. “How much is this site payin’ you? Fuck!”

  She laughed as I walked behind her and looked at the view. When I started to reach for her waist, she put her hands back behind her head so her tits stretched up. Her hard nipples popped up over the edge of the bra. Gary’s eyes were big as saucers.

  “They’re just needles, doofus, a little stick and then it’s no big deal. Hell, shots at the doctor hurt worse.”

  “Shots don’t pin your tits to a table. And you usually only get one at a time.”

  She shrugged and looked at a phone on the end table. “You’re the tit man, so I figured you’d be good for a free day at the races. But, if you’re not game, I know a couple other guys that’ll be here in time for you to catch Saturday morning cartoons.”

  Cussing myself for almost blowing it, I spanked a quick one on her ass. I figured she'd think it was a macho thing. Actually, I just wanted to feel her ass. Hell, if she wanted me to make her tits into pincushions for a few bucks, who was I to argue. “Okay…okay. I’m already here anyway.”

  She pulled her butt out of my reach and looked at Gary. When she saw him gaping like a teenager, she rolled her eyes. “You’re here to earn fifty bucks, dickhead, not drool. You gonna set up this week?”

  While Gary stumbled over himself, I read the rest of the list. I got to the part about the rope, smiled to myself at the thought of dripping hot wax on her pretty parts, and then…

  I was still imagining the rope thing when I got to more needles. I was supposed to poke them with needles after they turned to purple balloons. And she was doing this voluntarily. I tried to act cool, even though I could already feel the wet spot in the front of my underwear, and my cock was hurting. “They really like needles, don’t they?”

  Gary looked at the e-mail over my head and grinned like a moron. “Hot dog, and you’re paying me to do this!”

  She gave him a withering stare. “Not if you don’t get started, moron. You ready?”

  He stepped behind the camera while I stepped behind her.

  “I’m ready whenever you two lovebirds are.”

  I ignored him and just kind of watched while she pulled her bra back up over her nipples. “So, I guess we should get started?”

  She turned to the camera and backed up to me so her butt nestled against my crotch, then spread her legs. “Finger away…” She pressed harder, rubbing herself against my obviously hard cock. “Don’t enjoy yourself too much, Dickweed.”

  Shrugging to myself, I reached around and started fingering her pussy through her panties like the e-mail said. Who was I to argue with art? Gary adjusted the zoom.

  It was easy enough to find her clit, even through the lacy cloth. It had two speeds, comatose and ring toss, so she was already into it. Peeking down over her shoulder, I saw that her nipples were reacting, too. They pretty much solidified if the wind blew, so that didn’t surprise me.

  When she started pushing against my hand and moaning, I slid my other hand into the back of her panties and squeezed her rear. It was as soft and warm as I remembered, and the feel of her butt pushing between my splayed fingers made Mr. Happy jump.

  Her voice was quiet, already husky. “Stick to the script, Sherlock.”

  It didn’t take long to work her to a lather. Instead of finishing her off, I got to get even a bit. I pushed her away and grabbed the red leather flail-looking thing from the table. It was her pussy first. Though I mostly wished I could skip straight to the tits part, there was something about whipping her bits that seemed therapeutic. When I turned back to her, she was fingering herself. From the look in her eyes, she was obviously staying in the mood.

  I dropped to the couch, pulling her down on top of my lap with me. She leaned back against my chest and spread her legs wide over mine. Having never whipped a woman’s pussy before, I started easy, slapping her lightly across the crotch.

  “You can do better than that.”

  So, I did. Reaching around the front with my left hand, I grabbed her nipple through her bra, used it like a handle to pull her back into me, and slapped at her pussy hard. I was surprised when she started moaning.

  I was more surprised when, after a half dozen more lashes, she said, “Harder!”

  A handful of tit and my cock poking into her butt would have been perfectly fine by me. Spanking pussy was icing on the cake. Gary could keep his fifty bucks.

  After a few more good thwacks, I figured everything had to be plump and red, so I pushed her up off me to move to the next act—whipping her ass. She smiled as the first couple of lashes bounced her butt. When it started stinging, she laid across my lap. I milked a titty with one hand while whipping her hard with the other. It wasn’t as nice as I thought beating her boobs would be, but it was plenty nice enough that I had to slip a hand down the front of my pants to shift the rod again.

  A dozen lashes later, she started to whimper and squirm little. Her butt was fiery red and lined with gorgeous welts, but she didn’t fight me. I doubled up on the strokes, giving Gary time to get some more hot footage until she finally squealed. After a couple to grow on, I let her lie panting across my legs while I dug out my pocket knife. I was starting to get into this website stuff.

  Her hair was hanging to the floor, hiding her face, which left her bra strap open for business. My Spiderco sliced through it like it wasn’t there. Then I cut through the shoulder straps and yanked the bra off and slung it across the room. Gary was peering into the camera, grinning like a Cheshire cat. I saw him grin even wider when I reached under her and tweaked her right nipple, hard. Her squeal was gratifying.

  After another quick squeeze, I sliced through the sides of her panties. They were wetter than my Fruit of the Looms were getting. I threw them at Gary, who wasn’t on the ball enough to keep them from smacking on his face. By the time he’d taken a deep sniff and shoved them in a pocket, she was standing up, smiling like the Mona Lisa, with her fingers locked behind her head.

  She looked down at my crotch and laughed. “Horny much?”

  I lashed at her boobs. “Not as much as you.”

  She dodged back, shaking her tits with just a little more effort than necessary. “Don’t you wish?”

  We both knew the truth. Horny had been our entire state of existence when we were together.

  I grabbed her wrist and pulled her back down on top of me. Her rear filled the empty space between my legs. I knew she could feel my dick digging into her when she ground it against him. I wrapped my arm around her neck in a choke hold and pulled her back against my chest. She pretended to struggle when I popped her left tit.

  I really wanted to keep beating on them. Bouncing tits just might be the most enjoyable things to watch there is. But the script said I was 'still just warming her up,' so instead of whacking at her nipples like I wanted, I started fingering her. She was wet, reall
y wet, wetter than I thought she’d be. That’s when I noticed the bruises on her boobs for the first time. They were a greenish-yellow. They’d been there awhile, but it made me wonder if she hadn’t already been up to this kind of stuff with someone else before now.

  Thinking maybe I’d add a couple, I squeezed one hard, sinking my fingers deep. There’s really nothing like the feel of a soft, warm breast flowing between your fingers. It’s like the nipple between the fingertips and the bouncing tits things. For a guy, you just can’t describe it.

  She gasped and groaned a little while I mauled her for the camera. Her nipple and areola were still nice and hard. Feeling them brush against the inside of my palm made it hard for me to think about what I was supposed to do next.

  If damning the script for keeping me clothed would have helped, I’d have done it, but her tits were close enough that I forgot about it quick enough. If I’d have been in charge, I’d have buried my teeth into one of them. That would have been the best way to add bruises. But, I wasn’t, so I started twisting a nipple instead.

  She moaned and closed her eyes, grinding her butt harder against me before she dropped her hand down the front of the couch. I thought she was just enjoying my great, macho work, but she pulled a couple of chained pairs of clamps from under the cushion instead.

  This time, she did say, ‘stick to the script,’ but she didn’t sound nearly as convinced as before. Stifling a groan myself, I grabbed her left nipple and pressed the spring-loaded clamp open.

  When I let it close, she moaned again, moving her right boob toward me. Nuts or not, Cecilia had me hornier than I’d ever been. I was just damned lucky she hadn’t found this website thing before we broke up or I may have let my dick do way too much thinking.

  I snatched the nipple and snapped the clamp closed. She drew in a hissing breath and left her lips open in that ‘oh, yes’ way she did and slid her palm up her belly. She stopped just at her tit, closed her eyes and moaned some more, as if she was fighting between yanking the clamps off and getting off on the pain.