How to Wage a Wargasm

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Monday, April 22nd, 2013, 6:00 p.m.


The crowd cheered loud.


The crowd cheered louder.


The crowd cheered loudest.

“Although,” proceeded Sandy, bringing the volume down a notch. “While it may be Girls’ Night, this is gonna be one big, big treat for you gents as well!”

BDSM filmmakers Sandra and Lou Burton had invited a hundred of their closest friends to share this special Monday. They were hosting one of their semi-regular gatherings in the massive, ambience-permeated basement/studio. Several cameras were mounted about the room, pointing towards center stage, where Sandy addressed the audience. Lou, the cinematographer, operated the tripod by the door. As with many an occasion, he was dressed in his powder blue tux. Sandra was dolled in a lovely leather bustier with ankle-length boots and fingerless gloves. Her makeup was flawless, her hair teased up, lightly floating down her back. Her lips were stuck deep red with manicured nails to match. Much of the audience was already turned on by her appearance.

“That being said, we’re in for a big night! No point in beating around the bush—wink wink. So let’s get on with it!” She held up each finger of one hand except the pinkie.

“My friends, we have not one, not two, not three, but four—count ’em, FOUR—lovely ladies featured this evening! That’s two married couples we’re presenting tonight!”

The audience whooped appreciatively.

“Ya ready to meet ’em?” asked Sandy.

They responded with a collective, “YEAH,” but Sandy pretended she didn’t really hear.

“Sorry, what was that??” she demanded, cupping a hand to her ear.

The crowd upped the enthusiasm and volume. “YEAH!”

Sandy still wasn’t satisfied. “Come on, people, make me believe it!” she shouted.


Sandy finally nodded. “Oh, all right.” She turned towards the basement door, which Lou opened. “Ladies!” she hollered.

Four young lasses wandered to center stage amid eager applause, harboring a more or less mutual modicum of timidness. They passed out shy smiles and waves. Per Sandra’s instructions, they were dressed in their own everyday outfits, though they felt just a bit plain next to the atom-bombshell Sandy’d turned herself into.

“All right, girls, now do please speak up so everyone can hear,” said Sandy, gesturing to the girl nearest her. “And your name, my friend?”

“Uh, L—” The first participant cleared her throat. “LEYNA,” she stated loudly. “Leyna Phelps.” Leyna was 31, with blonde hair and modest but expressive green eyes. She wore a blue dress just a shade darker than Lou’s tux, a matching bracelet, and black shoes which were technically heels, though virtually flats. A businesswoman who dressed for success, she was the most formally dolled-up of the four. The audience gave her her own small round of applause, making her clasp her paws and smile.

“Well, brilliant to meet you, Leyna,” replied Sandy. “And what do you do?”

“I am a financial planner.”

“Oh, so you’re a savvy business type,” said Sandy. “Terrific. And you’ve with you…?”

“Oh! Yes.” Leyna linked arms with the girl beside her. “My bride, and the light of my life, Cyndi Phelps. Best Mrs. Fix-It there is. Most wonderful handy-woman in the city.”

The audience gave Cyndi an identical cheer, as the Phelpses X’d and O’d. Cyndi was the same age as her wife, with neck-length dirty-blonde hair and brown eyes. She was clad in a red and white plaid button-up, faded jeans, striped socks and hush puppies.

“Yay!” said Sandy. “Well a’right, let’s hear it for our first couple, Leyna and Cyndi!”

More applause. Sandra turned to the other pair. “And you?” she asked, offering a hand.

“Hi!” said the third girl, a bubbly 30-year-old with fluffy, bangy light brown hair and dark blue eyes. She wore a multicolored T, overalls, rainbow-y sandals and a giant friendly smile. “My name’s Judy Flanders, and, I entertain at kids’ birthday parties. I’m a clown.”

“Oh-ho-ho, really?” Sandy chuckled. “Well, I think you’ll be pretty entertaining here this evening. Although this particular event’s anything but suitable for kids.”

Judy giggled. “Oh, and this is my beautiful wife Samantha Blume. She didn’t wanna change her name, and I would’ve taken hers, but, uh…”

“…That would’ve made you Judy Blume.”

“Precisely,” laughed Judy.

“Cool, fantastic. So, Samantha?”

“Sam,” the last girl modified. “Just Sam.” She was the oldest of the lot at 32. Her eyes were a sharp tint of green. Her hair was short, dark and spiky, draping her forehead, with a pronounced streak bursa otele gelen escort of violet. Apparel-wise, she looked most like Sandy, in a black leather jacket and boots. She had on a worn, faded skull-and-crossbones shirt under the jacket. She described her profession simply. “Singer-songwriter and musician.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of a lady of few words,” Judy explained. “But that’s okay; I do more than enough yappity-yapping for the both of us.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Sandy. “Well, welcome, all the four of you! Now along me to ask, if I may: has any of you done any work in the fields of BDSM, or adult films?”

Looking a bit timidly at each other, each shook her head.

“Ooh, then this’ll be extra fun!” said Sandy. “Don’t you worry, though; we’ll go easy on ya.” She turned to the audience. “Four newbies! Four cubs have found their way into our cave, ladies and gentlemen. One more hand for our new victims—er, virgins!”

She’d made this little slip of the tongue intentionally. She turned back to the quartet of virgin cubs, with a deceptively benevolent smile.

“Now, before our festivities officially get underway, I’ve a little something additional to present,” Sandra announced to the crowd. “This is a special evening. Does anyone happen to know what today might be?” she asked with a hint of naughtiness.

“Earth Day!” someone in the crowd shouted, prompting titters. Sandy laughed along.

“Well, yes, yes, that’s correct; it is Earth Day. But aside from that fascinating observance, there is another occasion that fell on today, many, many years ago.” She spun on her heels, to the side of the room where her husband was rolling.

“Louis! If you would, please, darling?”

He would. Lou took a step towards the door. Above the doorway was a long roll, held by four pushpins. No one had noticed until Lou approached it, stood on tiptoe and removed two of the pins. Fast at the top corners by the other two, he let it flamboyantly unfurl.

The audience and girls on stage let out some exhilarated applause. The poster was that of a 30-something-year-old Bettie Page, in her 1950s heydays, decked in her classic S&M garb. She leered at them, with her trademark bangs and sneaky smile, “innocently” brandishing a riding crop.

“That’s right!” confirmed Sandy. “Sadly, she’s no longer with us, but this is the night we keep her memory alive. Tonight we pay tribute to the one and only Bettie Mae Page, on her big nine-oh. That’s right, friends; it is Bettie Page’s ninetieth birthday!!”

The audience broke out in the biggest wave of cheers and claps yet.

“I’m so glad you’re excited!” Sandy grinned. Turning to the girls on her right, she added, “And so during your performance this evening, ladies, don’t be too caught off-guard should you feel the spirit of Miss Page tingle inside you!”

It was a suggestion which sent a breeze of excitement through the four of them.

“Now then, my blushing brides! You’ve been briefed on your little contest this evening. And you understand that each of you’ll be participating with your wife, as a team. And so now, please, another hand for my lovely hugby!”

Lou this time rolled out a long table on wheels. On it was spread a standard deck of fifty-two very large—2’x1½’—playing cards, a notepad and pen.

“A’right, ladies,” said Sandra, retrieving the latter items. “The game is Team Strip High Card. I shall be the scorekeeper, and will now edify on the rules…although I probably don’t have to, am I right?” she provocatively asked of the crowd, which chortled.

“The cards’ve been shuffled and cut. You’ll each select one card at random for every round. Your card value plus your wife’s is your team’s score for that round. A jack is eleven, queen and king are both twelve, and an ace is thirteen. No carrying over of points; after every round, your scores reset to zero. Whichever team loses the round owes the ‘house,’ as it were, one article of your clothing each.”

The audience cheered. The intensity of the cheer made the girls a touch nervous.

“ANY ARTICLE…” Sandy continued, over the roar of the crowd, “…At all; your choice. One per round—no more, no less. You can give them to Lou or to me, and we’ll keep them by the prop closet. That way you won’t be tempted to cheat and grab clothes back. In case of a tie, no one loses, clothes stay on, we keep going. But! Articles must be removed by each losing team member, each round. In other words, you may not have one member of your team turn over two garments and the other none. Got it?…

“Good! Now, each shoe counts as one. If you have socks, each sock counts as one. And as each of you’s dressed right now, that’s it. Just as you came in tonight, that’s the entirety of your wardrobe for the game. So if you have fewer things on than anyone else…well, you’d better hope you win.”

The audience let out some more whoops, hoots and giggles.

“Play continues until one member of each team is escort bayan completely naked,” Sandy went on. “We’ll proceed with the second half of the evening accordingly. The two naked team members will be our ‘subs,’ in the main event later tonight. The other two will be our ‘dommes.'” She proceeded next to answer the question now on everyone’s minds.

“If both members of one team end up naked,” said Sandy suspensefully, “And neither of the other team is…welllllll, let’s just hope that doesn’t happen.” She smiled with mischief, making the girls anxiously look to one another.

Sandy clapped. “A’righty! It doesn’t matter the order—there’s no advantage to being first or last—so, what say we just go alphabetically? By first name?”

Everyone agreed that was fair. “Cyndi? Guess that makes you first.”

“‘Kay…” Cyndi approached the cards. She studied them, letting her finger tap her chin. Though there was no skill involved, she wasn’t exactly Doctor Decisive. After several moments of deliberation, Sandy cordially called over to her.

“…You can pick any card ya want there, Mrs. Phelps. Any one at all.”

At last, Cyndi settled. “There you go,” Sandy nodded. “Please hold it up so we can see.”

Cyndi turned it over and gasped in excitement. King of diamonds.

“Omigod!” she celebrated. The first card racked them up a whopping twelve points. The crowd broke into a collective cheer. Leyna hugged her with an elated “YAY!” Judy’s face morphed into amazement, Sam’s into an expression that said, “…Are you kidding me?”

“Wow,” remarked Sandy. “Guess all that thought paid off, Cyndi! All right, you can give me that card, and that’s twelve points for you and Leyna,” she instructed, marking the score. “Judy? That makes you next.”

“Okay!” Judy blew on her fingertips, clapped her hands and rubbed her palms together. After Cyndi’s method, she thought she’d take a few seconds to decide as well. She, however, didn’t get quite so lucky.

“OOOooh…oh dear,” she remarked, turning to show them. Five of hearts.

“Right, that’s five for Judy and Sam…Leyna?” Sandy turned to her next, doing the math. “You’re up. If you draw a seven or higher on this turn, you and Cyndi automatically win this first round. Because there’ll be no chance for Judy and Sam to catch up with you.”

Leyna took a quick breath and approached the deck. “Okay, cards, treat li’l ol’ Leyna right. Be good to me!” She chose one.

“Ouch,” she winced, turning around. “Okay, don’t be good to me.” She showed them the three of clubs, to a collective, “Ohhhh…”

“Ouch indeed,” Sandy commented, adding their score. “‘Kay, Cyndi, Leyna, that’s twelve and three, for a combined score of fifteen. Sam, Judy, you’ve got five. You still have a chance. Sam, if you draw a jack, queen, king or ace, you and Judy win round one. If it’s a ten, you tie, and nothing happens.”

Sam cracked her knuckles and wiggled her fingers over the cards. Judy hopped and clapped behind her, giving her encouragement. “C’mon, sweetie, you can do it!”

The determined Sam snatched the card she wanted. Making up her mind it would be high, she flipped it over to see. She was right.

“BOO-ya! Long live the queen!” she announced. Judy squealed and leapt into the air.

“Damn!” laughed Cyndi.

“How’d she do that?!” overlapped Leyna.

“Sorry, ladies,” Sandy mock-sympathized with the Phelpses. “Start undressin’.”

The opening round of course wasn’t hard. Cyndi and Leyna both simply took off a shoe.

Sandy clapped along. “All right, girls, well done; moving right along. Cyndi? Oh, cute socks. Ready to, eh…kick off round two?”

Cyndi half-wandered/half-limped to the table. “Oh, gosh,” she whispered. She took another few moments to choose, and this time her luck turned. Two of spades.

“Oh, no!” she laughed in embarrassment. In succession, Judy drew a six, and poor Leyna a four. And so it didn’t even matter what Sam drew; any value would win them round two as well. And just like that, Leyna was barefoot, Cyndi in her stripy socks.

Going into round three, all of them were still having fun. But as Sam and Judy proceeded to win the third round as well…and the fourth…suddenly, Cyndi and Leyna weren’t having quite as grand a time anymore. Thank goodness for Leyna she was allowed to count her bracelet as a garment.

“Oh, God, we are just getting owned over here!” Leyna half-laughed and half-whined. Cyndi whipped off her other sock, now also in her bare feet. She still had three articles to go after that, but unlucky Leyna had only two. She was suddenly in trouble, down to only her bra and panties. She had clearly underdressed for the night. She had to take her dress off, and needed some “help” from the audience. They started chanting.

“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!…”

Leyna looked to Sandy. Sandy replied with a smile that said, “I’d love to help ya, babe, but sorry; you’re on your own.”

Leyna mudanya escort Phelps had always been body-conscious and modest about her physique. She received her share of compliments on her pretty face and hair. But she wasn’t incredibly well-endowed, nor supermodel-thin. And she wasn’t wild about getting naked for a big lot of people, whether she knew them or not. The rules had been explained beforehand, but…well, she hoped she’d luck out, and not have to reveal much. She supposed she could’ve removed her bra or panties from underneath first…but then it’d be so much tougher to take off the dress. When she finally slipped out, goosebumps leapt on her skin. She crossed her arms over her albeit still encased tits. Mrs. Sandy could collect the dress up off the floor for her. Or so she thought. But then she turned back, to see Sandy giving her the same look. That same beatific, yet somewhat sinister smile.

“Oh…” Leyna chuckled, turning red. “This could be a long night.”


Monday, April 22nd, 2013, 7:27 p.m.

Thankfully for the Phelpses, what went around soon came around. The law of averages caught up, as she and Cyndi won the next three consecutive rounds. Leyna began to feel much comfier in her underwear, especially as Sam and Judy started stripping down. When Samantha removed her jacket, the audience, Cyndi, Leyna and Sandra were all treated to the image on her right forearm. She had a tattoo of a serpent that began at her wrist and wrapped her arm several times, its hissing head reaching to her elbow.

Leyna was afraid of needles and thus also tattoos, but Cyndi was impressed. “Nice!” she declared, taking a closer look. “Hey, did it hurt? I kinda wanna get one myself. I haven’t decided yet, just thinking about it.”

“Aw, well, my first time, it hurt like a motherfucker,” Sam explicated matter-of-factly. “And my first tattoo was pretty goddamn painful too.”

Judy was now showing as much skin as Leyna, having also put on fewer things. Cyndi was the only one who’d worn socks, and what an advantage they turned out to be.

“A’right, ladies and ladies,” said Sandra. “Ready for round eight??”

The crowd was getting excited, for obvious reasons. Judy and Leyna looked nervously at each other, realizing what was happening. However this round came out, one of them would have to start exposing her “goodies.” Leyna took a step closer to Judy.

“I think you and I better buddy up and pray for a tie.”

Judy nodded in agreement. “I think you’re right.”

“Well all righty then,” cued Sandy, “Cyndi? Time to do the honors again.”

Leyna dropped to her knees in front of Cyndi, taking her hands. “Honey, please make it a high one. PLEASE, please, please, sweetie, if you love me, make it high.”

Cyndi felt herself under a fair deal of pressure. She kissed Leyna on top of her head. “I’ll do my best, babe.” She returned to the cards, looking for her initial lightning to strike twice. Finally, she took one and looked. “Eight!” she announced.

“All right, Mrs. Flanders, you’re up,” Sandy told Judy.

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh,” murmured Judy, the table looming before her. She closed her eyes, letting her fingers blindly glide over the cards. “‘Kay, Jude,” she told herself. “Just pretend you’re at the beach, just pretend you’re at the beach…”

She took a deep breath and a card, turned it over and opened her blurry eyes.

All she saw was a lot of empty space and…something in the middle. Her heart jumped a beat. Her first thought was, Oh, no, it’s a two! But she let her vision focus, and realized she wasn’t seeing double. Her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth went straight up.

“ACE!!” she shouted, flinging the card in the air and jumping as high as she could. Still on the floor on her knees, Leyna dropped her face into her hands.

“Noooooo!” she half-laughed and half-cried. The audience felt alternatingly excited for Judy and sorry for Leyna. When the noise died down, Sandy reminded her, “All right, Leyna, now don’t panic just yet. The round’s not over. You and Cyndi have eight points, Sam and Judy thirteen. If you get a seven or higher, you still have a chance of a tie.”

Leyna raised her hand, and Cyndi helped her to her feet. And she made her legs head for the table. Cyndi knew the chances of them winning this round were slim. So she started unbuttoning her shirt, to further crowd delight. Frankly flattered by the attention, she momentarily forgot about her wife and began a little striptease dance for them.

Leyna couldn’t focus on Cyndi just now either. She had to concentrate on the card calling her name. Saying, Me. Right here, L.P. I’m your high card; you want me, babe. Power of suggestion convinced her she’d found it. And she decided the best way to do this was to flip it over nice and quick, and face the proverbial music.

So she did. She let her brain register the card…dropped it…covered her face, let her body fall backwards, and collapsed on the thankfully cloud-soft floor.

The crowd exploded. Sam and Judy knew it was a little mean, but they celebrated, hugging, cheering and laughing along. Cyndi nodded, removing her shirt as the taunting chant resurfaced. “Take it off! Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!…”

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