By Bikermike

The “game,” if it could be called as such, was very straightforward. It consisted of an ordinary pack of playing cards; fifty-two in total, if you do not count the jokers. The pack is shuffled and four cards are dealt from the top of the pack and the face value of this fourth card is noted. Another four are dealt and again the face value of this card is added to the previous value. All the cards are dealt in groups of four and the values of each fourth card added to the rest. There are fifty-two cards, therefore the whole pack requires thirteen groups of four cards. The value of the ace is of course one, the jack eleven, queen twelve and the king has the value of thirteen.

A mathematician would be able to calculate the odds of each sum total of the thirteen cards, but I am no mathematician so I estimate the average total would be in the order of

52 x 6.5 divided by 4 = 84.5

These were the rules explained to me by someone whose profile I was fascinated by on Recon. He went on to say that we would meet at his place, not too far away; either he or I would shuffle and deal the cards (it wouldn’t matter who) and note the final value, then the pack would be shuffled again and we would then pick a card each. The one picking the higher face value would then be given as many strokes of the belt as the total score of the thirteen sets of four cards.

* * *

The next Saturday I arrived at the pre-arranged time at the other guy’s house. He ushered me inside and into his front sitting room, which he had equipped as a playroom. In the centre was a metal pillory, where the victim would be secured with his head and wrists fixed at crotch height and his torso lying on a bench. A vicious looking leather strap hung ominously over the pillory, causing my heart to leap in anticipation: who would it be on its receiving end?

‘Ready?’ the guy asked as we sat down at the table in the corner of the room, ‘You shuffle and deal!’

I shuffled and dealt four cards. A ten. Another four cards: two. Another four: seven. Jack. Two. Three. Queen. Four. Three. Eight. Four. Four. Five. A total score of seventy-five!

My pulse quickened again.

‘Now we pick a card each,’ said the guy. ‘You still want to continue with this? It’ll be either you or I who will get a beating, fastened naked in the pillory. After the punishment the victim will suck the top off then top will wank off the victim using “Deep Heat” as a lubricant. Okay?’

I gulped and replied ‘Yes. It’s the rules that we agreed upon. Let’s do it!’

I picked a card from the pack. A queen! Twelve! The odds on him picking a king were eleven to one. If we tied, we would pick again. My cock was hardening in anticipation.

He picked and grinned, not showing me his card immediately. ‘What do you think?’ he asked.

‘Fuck, I don’t know; show me!’ I replied, shaking in anticipation. He did: a jack!

Fucking hell……

‘Strip! He ordered me. Naked, I lay face down on the bench and placed my neck and wrists in the lower half of the metal pillory. The guy then secured the top half, securing me tightly. He then tied my ankles to the leg of the bench upon which I lay. Taking his time, he slapped the leather strap in his hand a few times then got into position.

Crack! I yelped as the strap connected with my buttocks – a burning but exciting pain. After ten whacks I was shaking, mainly from the sexual excitement. He stopped to get his breath back. Another ten, this time harder. Pause. My cock by this time was leaking copious amounts of precum, which I could feel lubricating my body against the surface of the bench. Yet another ten, then another until he announced ‘The final fifteen, boy! Ready?’

‘Yes, Sir! Beat my arse hard!’ I replied. I arched my back as best I could, making my blazing buttocks even more of a target. I counted the final thirteen, shouting through clenched teeth.

The guy then dropped the strap, stood in front of my face then unzipped the fly of his jeans and pulled out his hard, circumcised cock. Without a word he shoved it into my mouth and fucked hard. As his breathing became more laboured he reached over, found my nipples and tweaked them hard. Faster and faster he thrusted his hips and tweaked and twisted my nipples as hard as he could. Finally he orgasmed down the back of my throat and withdrew, spent.

‘Your turn now, boy; fuck! You do suck well!’ he said as he zipped up his jeans and walked over to the table. He opened a drawer and took out a tube of “Deep Heat”. Rubbing some in his hands he applied it to my already burning buttocks, rubbing a finger around and up my anus. It felt like I was being flogged all over again, such was the pain.

He then untied my ankles and unbolted the metal pillory from the end of the bench. ‘Lie on your back,’ he said as he tied my ankles once again and fastened the pillory upside down to the bench, so I was looking upwards. He then fastened clamps to my already sore nipples and ran his fingers up and down my flanks and under my armpits and ribcage. The tickling was making me frantic. He then applied more ointment to his hands. ‘Now for the wank of your life!’ He laughed.

The End

Epilogue: I have visited this guy (I still don’t know his name, I don’t ask and he doesn’t ask me mine) every fortnight for the past few months. It’s got to the stage where we are about even; he seems to enjoy the flogging even more than I do!

 

Metal would like to thank the author, Bikermike, for this story!