Don Russell: The dog ballers

There was a brief flurry of preparation. Bonnie sent Ward upstairs to get some of her nylons. She even laughed a little, her voice taut.

"Wondered when I packed them why I should," she admitted. "Nothing to wear them for out here." She took a deck of cards from one of the drawers in the kitchen cabinet. "Rocky, how about shuffling? We can cut for who goes first."

Rocky riffled the deck. Ward returned with the nylons and dumped them in a heap on the table. His eyes gleamed and he glanced wolfishly from one of the women to another. Myra shivered at the way he ran the tip of his tongue over his lips. She approached the table, where Rocky was spreading the cards face down.

"Low card's it," muttered Rocky.

The four of spades gave Myra a sharp sense of relief. She wouldn't be the first one, anyhow; somebody was sure to get a lower card than that.

Leanne squealed with delight. "An ace! Look, everybody, I drew an ace!" She waved the ace of hearts excitedly in the air.

Rocky simply tipped one card face up on the table – the ten of diamonds. Jim exposed the ten of spades.

"Go ahead, babe," Ward said to Bonnie.

Bonnie shook her head in a tight, jerky motion. "You first," she insisted to her husband.

Ward shrugged. He seemed tense as he flipped over a card. It was a six, and Myra became aware of beads of perspiration that glistened on his forehead.

Ward looked steadily at Bonnie. "All yours, baby."

As if she were in a trance, Bonnie extended her hand. She kept the face of her card concealed, shielding it with both hands while she peaked. Then she glanced at Myra.

"You… we…" Bonnie gulped. "Everybody else's cards are out," she whispered. "What's yours, Myra?"

Poor thing, thought Myra. So scared. It's a cinch yours is lower than my four. "Four of spades," she murmured, showing Bonnie the card.

Bonnie gasped, then shrieked. She began to gyrate wildly around the room, waving her own card above her head. "A five!" she shrieked. "I got a five!"

"Oh, noooo…" Myra felt chilled. The safe four had proved itself a traitor. "My God, that means I'm it!" She darted panic-stricken glances at the others.

Rocky sidled closer. "It's okay, puss!" he whispered. "It'll be like that first dive into the surf. The minute you're in, the water feels great."

"Oh, Rocky! I'm so scared!"

"Nawww! You're going to have fun!"

"Rocky… you really want me to? Is it going to be fun for you? I mean, with me being… being…" The words seemed to stick in her throat.

He nodded, enthusiasm obvious in his expression. "You bet! Christ, puss!" He winced, and she realized he was squirming. "Christ, yes! Already got an ache in my balls!"

"Oh, Rocky! Shhh!"

"Let's start out with clothes on!" said Jim eagerly. "Hey, Myra, can you get your arms out of the sleeves without taking that thing off?"

"No! I mean, I don't know!" she heard herself wailing. Things were happening too fast.

"Sure you can," Rocky insisted. "Come on; I'll help."

She turned numbly away from the others and unbuttoned the top three buttons of the smock. With Rocky's help, she twisted to free her arms from the sleeves, then fastened the buttons again. The smock cut tightly under her arms, and there was no way to fasten the top button.

"Oh, dear! Is it all right this way, Rocky?" she asked.

He grinned hungrily. "Great! Just great! You're okay, puss!"

Jim and Ward had taken advantage of the pause to place sofa cushions down the middle of the table. They stood back, now, and gazed expectantly at Rocky and Myra.

"You ready, baby?" asked Ward.

Myra felt a flush of dry heat spreading over her skin. She licked her lips, trying vainly to moisten them.

"All ready!" exclaimed Rocky. "Right, puss?"

"Oh, Rocky! Rocky!" she hated herself for the way her voice croaked.

Rocky swept her into his arms and crossed to the table. She trembled violently when he laid her on the cushions. Her lower legs were unsupported, letting her feet dangle. She clutched desperately at the edges of the cushions and felt her nails bite into the coarse fabric.

"Oh, no!" she whispered, shutting her eyes. "Oh, God, no!"

Horror seeped through her at the sensation of nylon being looped around her ankles and wrists. She moaned softly and turned her head from side to side. Like her wilder fantasies and dreams, this would end with her recovering awareness, but it seemed so terribly real at the moment. But the writhing of her guts and the pressure in her lungs served as unceasing reminders that she was experiencing something real.

"Oh!" she gasped explosively as firm hands parted her legs. "Eee! Mph!" She refused to open her eyes.

Someone seized her waist and pulled her closer to the end of the table while others continued to spread her legs. Her heels were pressed against the table legs and she felt the nylon bite into her ankles as quick fingers tied each stocking. Even while she tried to squirm into a less strained position, hands caught at her arms and extended them sideways and back past her head. In moments, the loops tugged at her wrists and she knew they had finished tying her.

Spread-eagled, she was thrust upward by the cushions while the backs of her knees pressed the edge of the table and the backs of her hands rested on the smooth table top. Tension seemed to arch her body upward, making her breasts protrude and forcing her lower abdomen indecently out.

"Omigod!" she whispered. "Not like this! Oh, not this way!" She jerked hopelessly at her bonds, realizing instantly that they were secure and unyielding. "Oh, pleeease!" She imagined momentarily she was the sacrificial victim at the peak of one of the Mayan pyramids, then forcibly rejected the fantasy as too terrifying.

Hands began to stroke her upper arms and thighs. She finally opened her eyes, unable to resist curiosity. All three men bent over the table as they caressed her, and she saw Bonnie and Leanne join them. The two women appeared to be struggling with themselves; they were clearly excited, but both seemed uneasy, as if wondering what it was going to be like when their turns came.

Fear and embarrassment welled in Myra, but the sensations produced by gentle hands were firing her suppressed excitement. Tendrils of pleasure were wriggling through her like barbed threads of fire. Delicious pulses of excitement made her belly jerk and snapped her thighs taut. Her breath hissed between her parted lips in soft sighs that expressed enjoyment of the bizarre situation.

She noted in vague awareness that no one was feeling under the smock. Their hands reached the material and rubbed her through it, instead. The textured cotton whispered against her flesh, arousing hungry response from her tightly stretched muscles.

Rocky rubbed in small circles on her lower belly. Jim used both hands, stroking unhurriedly over the fronts of her upper thighs. Ward leaned in from the side, one arm across her, and kneaded her hips, his fingers driving under her to squeeze her asscheeks. Leanne lovingly caressed Myra's upper arms, again and again letting her fingers trail over the sensitive contours of her armpits and onto her ribs. And Bonnie used her fingertips to trace the lines of Myra's jaw and throat.

Myra found that she could separate the competing sensations only part of the time. For the most part, they seemed to blend into a throbbing, irresistible pleasure that raced unchecked over her entire body.

Her embarrassment was fading and the fear was gone. The gentleness of the caresses reminded her constantly that everyone at the table loved her and wanted to make her feel good. Reassurance relaxed her and pushed her into deeper awareness of her reactions.

"Ooo! Ahhhh!" The exclamations seemed to be wrenched from her as Bonnie's hands slipped onto Myra's breasts. "Good God, Bonnie!"