Greta's Game Boxed Set

by K. C. Silkwood

  “Of course,” Kelly said, rolling her eyes. “It’s not rocket science or anything.”

  “Fine. Then let’s begin, shall we? Claire, please spin the wheel.”

  She did, and got a two. Becky’s eyes grew wide when she saw that she would be Claire’s co-player.

  Greta peeled the first pink card off the stack. “All right, Claire. Would you rather flash your breasts to the rest of the group, or have Becky flash her pussy?”

  Claire’s jaw dropped, and so did Becky’s. “Wait a minute,” Claire said. “Is this going to be like strip poker or something? Because you didn’t say—”

  “I said the challenges would be provocative, did I not? And we’re all adults here, after all. You and your friends have been parading around half-naked for nearly a week now. I wouldn’t think flashing your breasts would make you so uncomfortable.”

  Claire bit her lip. “Well, it’s not…I mean…” She glanced at Becky, who shook her head wildly.

  “Don’t make me do it!” Becky pleaded. “Come on, Claire, showing your boobs is no big deal.”

  Claire looked at Greta. “What do you mean by flash? Just pull my top up then pull it back down again?”

  “Basically, yes. Although I’d like you to keep it up for at least five seconds.”

  With a sigh, the girl grabbed the bottom of her pink bikini top and pulled it up until her apple-sized tits spilled out. They were stark white compared to the deep brown skin on the rest of her body, and topped with hard brown nipples. After a few seconds, Claire pulled the material down again and stuffed her tits back inside.

  “Thank you,” Becky mumbled.

  “Yes, thank you, darling,” Greta said, beaming. “Now it’s your turn, Becky.”

  Becky spun a four, so her co-player would be Kelly.

  “Becky,” Greta began, scanning the next card, “Would you rather kiss another girl, or make Kelly French kiss another girl?”

  “Miss Steele!” Becky gasped. “That’s…I mean, I can’t…”

  “Then you may choose not to, my dear,” Greta replied, giving Kelly a sly smile.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Kelly warned, eyes narrowed.

  Becky stared at the cheerleader, and all she could think of were the hundreds of times Kelly had called her Becky the Board and made fun of her flat chest. “I want Kelly to do it,” she stated.

  The cheerleader jumped to her feet, her big tits jiggling in her bikini top. “You little shit! I ought to—”

  “Sit down, Kelly,” Greta ordered.

  “Yeah, sit down,” Claire repeated. “You’re gonna blow our chance to earn five hundred dollars.”

  “Just think about everything you’re gonna buy,” Sam added.

  Fuming, the cheerleader plopped back down on the sofa. She crossed her arms over her ample chest, thought for a moment, then said, “Fine. Whatever. But who do I have to kiss? You better not say one of these losers here.”

  Greta stroked her chin with one long red nail, thinking. In situations like this, the game master chose the other person involved in the challenge. It could be one of the other players, or it could be a total stranger. Most of the maids, bellboys, and waiters at the resort knew about Greta’s strange habits by now, and some of them had been tipped so heavily that they would do anything the mysterious tourist asked. But as Greta studied Kelly, she decided that the cheerleader would be more uncomfortable being forced to kiss a girl she knew. And in this case, the choice was obvious. Becky was out, because it wasn’t fair to force the player who passed the buck to participate in the challenge. Claire and Kelly weren’t friends, but they didn’t have a strong dislike for each other, either. Forcing them to kiss would be tepid at best. But Sam was another story. Sam hated Kelly because of the way she treated her friend Becky, but Greta was also fairly certain that Sam was gay. Forcing her to kiss a girl who was both attractive and a total bitch would make for an interesting dynamic.

  “You’ll be kissing Sam,” Greta finally announced.

  “No way!” Kelly exclaimed.

  “Gross,” Sam mumbled, but then she gave Kelly a sidelong glance as if she were wondering how it might feel to kiss those plump lips, taste that pink tongue…

  “Do you want the five hundred dollars or not?” Greta asked. “That much money can erase a lot of unpleasant memories.”

  “Don’t ruin it for us,” Claire pleaded.

  Kelly shook her head, fuming. “This is some fucked-up shit,” she said, but then she turned sideways to face Sam. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

  Sam swallowed hard. “Um…how should we…”

  “For fuck’s sake, girl, just do it,” Kelly said, then she leaned forward and planted her lips on Sam’s. The star athlete inhaled sharply, then began moving her lips against Kelly’s.

  “No cheating, girls,” Greta warned. “Get those tongues out.”

  Sam didn’t need to be told twice. She jabbed her tongue into Kelly’s mouth, sliding it across the other girl’s tongue, poking and probing. Kelly moved her tongue, too, but the motions were stiff and mechanical. After a few seconds, she pulled her head away. “That’s it. I’m done,” she announced, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “Damn, girl, you got your stupid spit all over me!”

  “Shut up, it was just as gross for me!” Sam shot back, crossing her legs to hide the wetness spreading through her crotch.

  “Calm down, dear,” Greta advised. “It’s your turn now.”

  Sam spun and got a three, her own number, but when she tried again the spinner landed on two for Becky.

  Greta peeled the next pink card from the top of the stack and grinned as she read it. “Sam, would you rather let a stranger feel your breasts, or let a stranger feel Becky’s pussy?”

  All four girls gasped.

  “No way,” Sam said. “Flashing is one thing, but that’s over the line.”

  “Way over the line!” Becky added.

  “It’s like sexual assault or something!” Sam said.

  “It’s nothing of the sort,” Greta corrected. “This is, after all, only a game.”

  “Who the hell would this stranger be?” Sam asked. “Just some random person from the hotel?”

  “Give me more credit than that, dear. I’ve been here for nearly a month, and I’ve carefully screened several of the hotel’s employees for purposes exactly like this one. After all, this is not the first game I’ve hosted since I arrived in Mexico.”

  Sam turned to Becky, who was clearly terrified. Sam knew that no one had touched Becky’s pussy, not even her boyfriend Richard. The two had been dating for most of senior year, and Becky had barely even let the boy touch her tiny tits. And while no boy had ever touched Sam’s tits—because doing something like that with a boy was something Sam had no interest in whatsoever—it would be a lot easier on her than letting some Mexican bellboy stick his finger up Becky’s cunt.

  “Don’t worry,” she told Becky. “I’ll do it.”

  “Marvelous!” Greta exclaimed, reaching for the hotel phone on the table beside her. She stabbed a few numbers, waited a moment, then gave rapid instructions in Spanish which none of the girls understood. A minute later someone knocked on the door, and Greta called for the person to come in. The girls recognized the man as one of the pool bartenders, a Mexican in his late forties with slicked-back hair, a bristly moustache, and a large gut. He smiled when he saw the four teens in their bathing suits.

  “Buenos dias, Juan,” Greta chirped. “Thank you for coming. I have a little task for you.” She pointed at Sam and rattled off another short string of instructions in Spanish, and Juan grinned as he turned to face the star athlete. “Sam, please remove your top,” Greta said. Sam looked at Juan, shuddering when she saw the leer on his face. Then she swallowed hard and pulled her bikini top over her head, revealing a small, firm pair of tits. Just like Claire’s, they were stark white compared to the rest of her body.

  Sam’s cheeks went red as Juan chuckled and licked his lips. “Ha
nds at your sides, dear,” Greta ordered. “Make sure Juan has full access to those little beauties.” The bartender knelt in front of Sam and immediately grabbed both tits, pawing them roughly. Sam shut her eyes tight, shivering as the man squeezed her tits and pinched her hard nipples. Juan mumbled under his breath the whole time, hypnotized by the teen’s firm tits just a few inches in front of his face. His own wife’s tits were so soft and saggy they fell nearly to her waist. Now this was the way tits were supposed to look and feel! Juan’s cock swelled in his pants as he groped the girl mercilessly, his calloused palms rough on her smooth young flesh.

  After what seemed to Sam like an eternity, Greta finally said, “All right, Juan, that’s enough. Thank you so much for your time.” She held out a folded fifty dollar bill which the bartender took with a smile and a small bow before he left the room.

  “Ugh. That was awful,” Sam said, shivering one last time.

  “Thank you so much,” Becky whispered.

  “But now you owe me,” Sam said, reaching for her bikini top. “Don’t forget that.”

  “Just a minute, dear,” Greta interrupted. “I neglected to mention one other rule. Once an item of clothing comes off, it stays off until the game is over.”

  “What do you mean? Claire got to put her top back on!”

  “To be precise, she never really took it off. By definition, flashing one’s chest means lifting one’s top and then lowering it again.”

  “So I have to sit here with my tits out for the rest of the game?”

  “Don’t worry, dear. You won’t be alone for long.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Kelly asked.

  “I believe you’re about to find out, because now it’s your turn. Spin the wheel please, Kelly.”

  The cheerleader flicked the spinner, which landed on two. Becky was the co-player for the second turn in a row. Greta scanned the next pink card and grinned.

  “Oh, I like this one. Girls, you may have noticed that my suite has a small balcony overlooking the pool.” She gestured toward a sliding glass door nearby. “That’s why I always choose this room instead of one on the top floor. From my balcony, the pool area is so close I can see what all the other guests are doing. And they, in turn, can see me—when I want them to.” She looked at the cheerleader and said, “So here is your question, Kelly; would you rather stand on my balcony for one minute with your top off, or have Becky stand on my balcony for one minute completely nude?”

  Kelly barked out a laugh. “Are you shitting me? I don’t even have to think about that one!”

  “No way!” Becky yelled, leaping to her feet. “I won’t do it!”

  Greta cocked her head. “But darling, you must. No one quits until the game is over.”

  “I don’t care what you say. And I don’t care about the stupid five hundred dollars. I am quitting, and you can’t stop me!”

  “Have you forgotten that I have your passport? It would be awkward, if not impossible, to leave the country without it.”

  “Then we’ll just have to take them back, won’t we?” Sam said, grabbing her bikini top and standing up beside her friend. “And since there’s four of us and one of you, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

  Greta shrugged. “You might be right…if the passports were still here, that is.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You haven’t stepped out of this room since we gave them to you!”

  “Do you remember the waiter who brought the champagne just before the game began? And do you recall that I walked him to the door as he left? I gave that man your passports and instructed him to keep them in a safe place.”

  Sam’s mind raced as she pulled her bikini top over her head and stuffed her tits back inside. “Then…then we’ll go to the hotel manager and tell him to get them back!”

  “Do you know the waiter’s name? Do you even recall his face? That might make him slightly hard to identify.” Greta took another sip of champagne, then licked the moisture off her lips. “But even if you could find the waiter, he would deny everything. I’ve tipped him quite generously during my stay here. And the hotel manager as well. Who do you think he’s most likely to cooperate with, my dear? A wealthy guest who puts plenty of money in his pockets, or a group of silly drunken teenagers?”

  Sam looked at Claire, but the girl only shrugged. Kelly was shaking her head and chuckling under her breath. Becky stood still as a statue with tears in her eyes. “Then we’ll leave without them,” Sam said. “We’ll tell our counselor that we lost them, and…and I’m sure they can find some way to get us out of the country. Maybe we can get new ones. Somebody can call the embassy, and—”

  “And maybe they’ll help you,” Greta interrupted. “Who knows, it might only take three or four weeks until they can issue you new passports. In the meantime, you’ll have to explain to your parents how you lost them. Will you tell them the truth, or make up some ridiculous lie? I’m sure your parents…and your swim coach and tennis coach, Sam…would love to hear all about my little game.”

  “Maybe we will lie. They’ll believe us over you any day!”

  “Ah, but videotape never lies.” Greta stood from her chair and walked to the small desk against the wall nearby. A laptop computer sat on top, its lid open, and Greta slid her finger over the touchpad for a few moments, clicked once or twice, then stood back. A window opened up on the screen showing all four girls seated on the couch, just before the game began. As the video continued, Greta explained the rules of the game.

  Claire looked at the ceiling, her mouth open wide. “You’ve got cameras in here? Where the hell are they, in the chandelier or something?”

  Greta nodded at the laptop. “In a few moments, Claire will flash her breasts. Then Sam and Kelly will share a passionate kiss…and then Sam will allow herself to be felt up by a middle-aged stranger.” The older woman faced the girls again. “Would you really like your parents to see this video? Or I could post it on the Internet for everyone to see.”

  Now even Sam had tears in her eyes, and Kelly was biting her lip and staring at the floor. Claire was rubbing her forehead, eyes shut, as if she had a migraine.

  “Remember, girls,” Greta continued, “You will receive your five hundred dollars once the game is over. That should be some small consolation.” Pulling the bottle of champagne from the ice bucket, the older woman refilled everyone’s glasses then sat back down. “Now then, shall we continue?”

  “What should we do?” Becky whispered to Sam.

  “We don’t have a choice. If she shows this to our parents…to my coaches…if she shows it to anyone, we’re all in huge trouble. And if she keeps our passports and we get stuck here for another month, our parents will probably just kill us.”

  “But I don’t want to play anymore!” Becky hissed. “Kelly’s gonna make me go outside naked!”

  Sam picked up her champagne glass and drained it, then let out a ragged sigh. “We don’t have a choice. Just try not to think about it.”

  “Are we all in agreement, then?” Greta asked. “Shall we continue the game?”

  Claire and Kelly nodded slowly, and after a moment Sam did, too. Becky just stood there crying until she finally nodded her head as well.

  “Excellent,” Greta said. “Then let’s pick up where we left off. Sam, you’ll need to remove your top again.” The girl did as she was told, crossing her arms over her bare tits as she sat back down. “And Kelly,” Greta continued, “Because of our long interruption, I’ll ask the question again. Would you rather stand on my balcony for one minute with your top off, or have Becky stand there for one minute fully nude?”

  Kelly drained her champagne glass and nodded at Becky. “Well, Becky, I would say it’s time to show ‘em what you’ve got, but I don’t think there’s much underneath that old lady bathing suit of yours.”

  Becky had seen it coming, so she didn’t even look surprised. She picked up her own champagne glass and drank half of it, swaying on her feet as she put the gl
ass down again. Then, with tears rolling down her cheeks, she grabbed her shoulder straps and slowly pulled down her swimsuit. Because she had stayed under an umbrella during most of the trip, the skin beneath it was the same pale, creamy white as her arms and legs. First came her tits, which were nothing but cone-shaped bumps topped with small pink nipples. Then came her flat stomach, followed by the neatly-trimmed triangle of dark hair covering her pussy. Becky kept pushing the material down her legs until the bathing suit was puddled at her feet, then she stepped out of it and hugged herself as if she were freezing.

  “Well, nobody’s gonna wonder why we call you Becky the Board now,” Kelly drawled. “Although I’ve gotta tell you, I’d kill to have a tight little butt like yours.”

  Becky whipped one hand over her ass, but then realized she needed both arms to keep her tits and her pussy covered. She stood there crying and fidgeting until Greta said, “Come now, Becky. It’s time.” The older woman stood up again and slid the balcony door open, then gestured for Becky to join her. The girl crept over with tiny steps, arms still wrapped around her body. Maybe if I keep my arms like this and press my back to the window, nobody will see anything, she thought. But once she reached the door, Greta grabbed both of the girl’s slim wrists and pulled her arms behind her back, then slapped on a pair of fur-lined handcuffs that had been hidden in the pocket of her cover-up. Becky gasped and tried to free her wrists, but all she managed to do was make her small tits jiggle as she struggled with the cuffs.

  “Sorry, dear, but this wouldn’t be much of a challenge if you were allowed to use your arms, now would it?” Greta asked, then she pushed the teenager onto the balcony and slid the door shut.

  Becky stood there trembling with fear, the warm ocean breeze tickling her bare skin. The balcony was nothing but a narrow strip of tile, maybe eight feet long and four feet wide, with a waist-high metal guardrail. Down below, dozens of other guests—including most of the kids from her group—were splashing around in the pool or lounging in chairs beside it. The distance couldn’t be more than thirty feet; close enough for her to recognize their faces, or for them to recognize hers.