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  Greta’s Game

  By K.C. Silkwood

  Greta’s Game

  By K.C. Silkwood

  Copyright K.C. Silkwood

  All rights reserved. No material from this book may be reproduced in any form whatsoever without prior written consent from the author.

  This book contains mature content and is intended for adults only. All characters portrayed in the stories are over the age of 18.

  Chapter 1: Greta’s Game

  From the day she moved into the big house on Chestnut Street, Greta Steele was the hot topic of conversation among her neighbors. At first, people wondered why the stunning brunette had no husband, no children, and apparently not even a boyfriend. She had to be nearly 40 years old. Had she never started a family? Then why did she need a home so large, so grand? And what did she do for a living? Greta was tall, slim, elegant, and she dressed and acted like someone with both money and class. Was she a fashion designer? A retired supermodel? Maybe some European heiress who had fled her homeland? She did have the trace of an accent, which only added to her mystery.

  The riddle was solved when Greta invited all the neighborhood women to her home one Saturday afternoon for drinks and h’ordeuvres. The girls spent hours chatting, mingling, and wandering through the spacious house. Once everyone was nice and mellow from the alcohol, Greta gathered them in the huge living room and revealed her secret.

  “Ladies, I know you’ve been wondering who I am and what I do,” she began, standing in the center of the room so everyone could hear her. She wore a simple black dress, her dark hair falling to her shoulders. Because her skin was so pale, her bright red lipstick and nail polish looked bold and dramatic. “Well, allow me to dispel the mystery.” She held up a glossy catalogue with a photo of a nude blonde woman on the cover. The woman’s lips were coated with bright silver lipstick, and she puckered them as if blowing a kiss at the camera. “I’m the founder and CEO of Steele Kisses, one of the world’s largest manufacturers of adult toys and intimate wear.”

  A collective gasp rose from the group of ladies. “You mean…like sex toys?” one timid girl asked.

  “Toys, accessories, personal pleasure devices, whatever you’d like to call them,” Greta confirmed. “Also oils, lotions, creams, and a full line of lingerie and intimate wear for both women and men.”

  The room erupted into excited conversation, and soon the women were passing the catalogue around. Some blushed and gasped when they saw the offerings inside, while others begged to see the items in person. Greta brought out two black duffle bags filled with various novelties, which caused even more of an uproar as the ladies held up pairs of crotchless panties or hefted frighteningly large dildos in their hands. A few of the women refused to touch the items; others took Greta aside and asked if they could buy some on the spot.

  “Sorry, girls, I only keep a few samples here at the house. But I’ll give you each a catalogue to take home, and you can order anything you like.”

  As late afternoon approached, the women began to leave in small groups. Greta handed each person a catalogue at the door, along with whispered enticements of a “friends and neighbors discount.” Finally, there were only four women left. Greta ushered them to a quiet corner of the living room where three love seats were arranged in a C shape with a large glass table in the middle. Greta sat alone on one of them, and the other girls sat in pairs.

  “There, that’s more cozy,” she said. “Now that the crowd is gone, we can really get to know each other.” Greta looked at the girl across from her. “You’re Jennifer, right? And if I remember correctly, you’re a yoga instructor.”

  “That’s right! Good memory,” Jennifer said. She was tall and tan with brown hair and a fit, toned body. “And this is my little sister, Jan.” The girl beside Jennifer smiled and gave a finger wave. She had the same brown hair as her sister, but was shorter and slimmer with a body like a gymnast.

  “Jan and Jennifer. That’s cute,” Greta said with a smile. “And what do you do, my dear? You look as fresh and young as a teenager!”

  “I just turned 21, actually,” Jan said. “I’m still in college, but I graduate next year.”

  “How lovely.” Greta turned to the two women on the other loveseat. “Now you with the red hair…it’s Lacy, correct? And I believe you’re a school teacher?”

  Lacy nodded. Her long, curly hair fell halfway down her back, and she had bright green eyes and a small, upturned nose. “Yes, I am. High school math.”

  “And you’re Rosa,” Greta said, shifting her gaze to the Latin beauty next to Lacy. “But I’m sorry, I can’t remember what you do.”

  “Basically whatever I want,” the girl said with a laugh. Her black hair was longer than Greta’s and she wore plenty of mascara to highlight her big brown eyes. “My husband prefers that I stay home. He owns an insurance company and makes plenty of money on his own.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Greta said. “And you girls have all known each other for a while now?”

  All four women nodded. Jennifer, Lacy, and Rosa were in their 30s and had lived on Chestnut Street for years. Lacy and Rosa knew Jan because she spent so much time visiting her big sister. Although none of the girls were close friends, they had always been cordial to each other and socialized from time to time—except for Jennifer and Rosa, who had been feuding ever since Rosa flirted with Jennifer’s husband at a dinner party after too many margaritas. That was over a year ago, and the bad blood still hadn’t cooled down yet.

  Greta smiled and clasped her knees. “Well, then. Now that we have such a small group, would you ladies be interested in playing a game?”

  The girls looked at each other. “Like poker or something?” Jan asked.

  Greta laughed. “No, I was thinking of something a little more…provocative.”

  “Like strip poker?” Jennifer asked. “Aren’t we too old for that? Besides, it’s just us girls.”

  “No, I had something else in mind. It’s a game to help me get to know you all better. A game that truly reveals a person’s inner psyche. Are you familiar with the game called Would You Rather?”

  Jennifer and Jan nodded. Lacy looked uncertain, and Rosa shook her head no.

  “Let me explain it then. It’s a conversation game, designed to stimulate discussion and debate. A person is asked to choose between two bad options, such as Would you rather eat a raw egg or lick the bottom of someone’s shoe? Another one might be, Would you rather shave your head bald or get a tattoo on your face? See how it works? The choice a person makes—and their explanation for that choice—reveals a lot about them.”

  Most of the girls laughed, but Rosa merely frowned. “Sounds silly to me.”

  “It’s actually very thought provoking. And my version of the game reveals even more about a person’s psychological makeup.”

  “What’s different about your version?” Lacy asked.

  Greta leaned back and crossed her slim legs. “I believe that actions speak much louder than words. Saying you’ll do something is far different than actually doing it. So in my version, the players must perform the action they choose.”

  The women gasped and groaned. “Like, you really make people shave their heads or eat raw eggs? Gross!” Jan said, shivering.

  “Most of the choices in my game aren’t radical or permanent. There is no head-shaving, no tattoos…once the game is over, no physical alterations are visible. In other words, you wouldn’t look different to anyone who saw you. And I also avoid the more…distasteful choices. I wouldn’t ask anyone to eat a raw egg, a bug, a spoonful of dirt, or anything else unhealthy or unsavory.”

  “Well, then…” Jennifer began. “I guess it could be fun.” She looked to the other women for confirmat
ion. Jan and Lacy shrugged, and Rosa let out a deep sigh. “I don’t know,” the Latin beauty said. “It sounds lame to me.”

  “What’s the matter?” Jennifer asked. “Scared?”

  Rosa sat up straight. “Are you joking? No way. Fine, I’ll play your stupid game.”

  “Excellent!” Greta said. “But I need to finish explaining the rules. My game has one more variation from the original. In my game, you’re given two options. Both are bad, but one is worse than the other. You may choose to perform the first action yourself, or you can force another player in the game to perform the second option—the worse one.”

  Jennifer frowned. “I don’t get it. Wouldn’t everybody choose to let the other person do the gross thing?”

  “Not necessarily, Jennifer. This game not only reveals your own tolerances, it also reveals your true feelings for family members,”—she looked at Jan—“and friends”—she looked at Lacy—“and…others,” she finished, her eyes skimming over Rosa.

  “So let’s do it,” Rosa said, glaring at Jennifer. Lacy drained her wine glass and nodded. Jan took another sip of her own wine and said “Okay, sure.”

  “Let me get the materials,” Greta said, standing up. She left the room and came back a few minutes later with a stack of pink index cards, a spinner, and a fresh bottle of wine. She also fetched the two black duffle bags filled with sample products and set them on the floor at her feet. Once everyone’s wine glasses had been refilled, Greta announced the start of the game.

  “Here’s how it works,” she explained, placing the spinner in the middle of the table. It was a round piece of cardboard the size of a small plate, divided into four equal sections numbered 1 through 4. In the center was a small plastic arrow that could be spun with a finger, like in a child’s game. “We’ll start with Jennifer and go clockwise from there. When it’s your turn, spin the arrow to see who will be your co-player in that round. I’ll assign the numbers; Jennifer is one, Jan is two, Lacy is three, and Rosa is four.”

  “What about you?” Rosa asked. “Don’t you play, too?”

  “No, I only run the game.” She chuckled and smoothed her dark hair away from her face. “I’m afraid I’m a little too old for this much excitement.”

  “Are you kidding?” Jennifer asked. “You don’t look a day over forty. That’s not old.”

  “That’s sweet of you to say, but I’ll turn 48 next month. Regardless, I’ve found it’s helpful to have one person in charge of the game.” She reached into one of the black duffle bags and pulled out a large empty envelope. “And the first order of business is to collect your offerings. Ladies, please hand me your wedding rings.”

  “What?” Rosa gasped. “Why?”

  “That’s how players buy into the game. Once the game starts, no player is allowed to quit before the game is over. If you do, you forfeit your offering. Otherwise, you get it back at the end of the game. I’ve found wedding rings to be the perfect object.” After a little frowning and complaining, Jennifer, Lacy, and Rosa pulled off their wedding rings and placed them in the envelope. “But I’m not married,” said Jan. “So what do I use?”

  Greta scanned the young girl up and down. “That gold necklace and locket looks valuable. Is it important to you?”

  “Well…yes. It belonged to my great-grandmother.”

  “That’s perfect, then! Please take it off and give it to me.”

  Greta left the room with the envelope full of jewelry and came back empty-handed. Then she sat down again and reached for the spinner. “All right. Before we start, I’ll do a demonstration to show you how the game works. That ways there’s no confusion once the game is officially underway.” She flicked the spinner with a red fingernail, and the plastic arrow landed on the number 2. “So my co-player for this round would be Jan. If the spinner lands on your own number, of course, you simply spin again. Now then, the game master picks a card and reads it.” She peeled a pink card from the top of the stack and smiled as she scanned the words. “The game master would now say to me, Would you rather stand on one leg for two minutes, or ask Jan to stand on one leg for ten minutes? Then I can choose to perform the action myself, or command Jan to perform the tougher action. Does everyone understand?” All four women nodded. “I must ask one more time. Like I said before, no one can leave the game once it begins. If you do, you forfeit your offering.”

  “Okay, okay, we get it,” Rosa groaned. “We’re not stupid, you know.”

  “Of course not, dear,” Greta said with a smile. “Now, then. There are three rounds in the game, and each round is more challenging—and more provocative—than the previous one. Jennifer, you’re first. Please begin.”

  Jennifer flicked the spinner and it landed on 3 for Lacy. Greta took the top card from the stack and read it. “All right, Jennifer. Would you rather kiss a girl on the cheek, or have Lacy kiss a girl on the mouth?”

  All four of the players gasped. “Um…wow,” Jennifer mumbled. “I didn’t know we’d have questions like that.”

  “They come in all shapes and sizes, my dear. Some are harsh, some are seductive, some are troubling, some are provocative. That’s the nature of the game.”

  “Well…okay. Um…I guess I can kiss a girl on the cheek. That’s not so bad.”

  “Good! Then I pick Rosa to be the girl.”

  Jennifer shot a glance at Rosa, who was rolling her eyes. “Um, can’t it be…?”

  “The game master makes these decisions. Rosa is your girl.”

  Jennifer sighed then leaned over and kissed Rosa on the cheek. The other girl rubbed her face immediately afterward.

  Jan went next and spun a 1, so her co-player was Jennifer. Greta read the next card then said, “Jan, would you rather take off your shirt, or ask Jennifer to take off her shirt and her bra?”

  Jan looked at Jennifer and shrugged. “It’s no big deal. My boobs aren’t much to look at, anyway. I’ll do it.” She pulled her black silk T-shirt over her head to reveal small, firm breasts clad in a black bra. She also wore a denim skirt and sandals, and she shuffled her feet nervously as the other girls stared at her.

  It was now Lacy’s turn, and since she spun a 3—her own number—she had to spin again. This time it was a 4, for Rosa. Greta read out her question. “Would you rather be spanked through your clothes, or have Rosa be spanked on her bare ass?”

  The redhead shot Rosa a sidelong glance. She was so tipsy from the wine that she had a hard time focusing, but no one could miss the glare on Rosa’s face.

  “Don’t even think about it, girl,” Rosa warned.

  Lacy’s head swayed from side to side for a moment, then she smirked and said “Rosa.”

  “No way! No fucking way!” Rosa stood up. “That’s it. I’m leaving.”

  “No problem, dear,” Greta said. “But remember, I get to keep your wedding ring.”

  “Fuck that! What did you do with it?”

  “It’s in my safe, which is hidden. And even if you found the safe, you’d never guess the combination.”

  “I want my ring, bitch!” Rosa yelled.

  “Then finish the game,” Greta said coldly, “because that’s the only way you’ll ever see it again.”

  Rosa swayed on her feet. She was tipsy, too, or else she might have simply stormed out and come back later with her husband, or the police. But instead she plopped down on the sofa and crossed her arms on her chest.

  “You’re due for a spanking,” Greta said. “And I dare say you’ve earned it. Please stand up and pull down your skirt.”

  Frowning, Rosa got to her feet again. She wore a red blouse, a black leather skirt, and high heels. She kicked off the heels then unzipped the skirt and let it fall to the floor. Beneath it she wore a red thong that revealed her tight round ass.

  “Since your ass is already bare, you may leave the panties on,” Greta declared. “Now turn around and bend over. Good, that’s perfect. Jan, please do the honors.”

  “Me?” Jan squeaked. “How—what do I do?”
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br />   “Five hard spanks with the palm of your hand, dear. Just like you’d spank a naughty child.”

  Grimacing, Jan leaned forward and smacked Rosa’s ass lightly.

  “I said hard, dear. Try again.”

  Jan did, and this time her hand made a sound like a rifle shot as it struck the Latin beauty’s exposed ass. Rosa gasped and jumped, but Jan struck four more times before Rosa could move away. After the fifth strike, Rosa reached back and rubbed her sore cheeks. “Damn it, that hurt!” She turned around and glared at Jan. “You better hope your number doesn’t come up on my turn, bitch.” Then she looked at Lacy. “Same goes for you. Hell, same goes for all you bitches!”

  Rosa pulled her skirt up then sat down again, wincing as her sore ass hit the sofa cushion. She flicked the spinner hard and it spun madly, finally landing on number 1. Jennifer.

  Greta read the next pink card. “Here’s your question, Rosa. Would you rather strip to your underwear, or have Jennifer strip completely naked?”

  Rosa laughed and clapped her hands. “I don’t even have to think about that one. Get those clothes off, girl!”

  Jennifer stood up slowly and looked at Greta. “Everything?”

  “Everything,” the older woman confirmed.

  Jennifer wore a white blouse and tan slacks. She took off the blouse first, then removed her bra. Her breasts were bigger than her sister’s and pale from a summer spent tanning in a bikini. Then she unzipped her slacks and slid them down her shapely legs. After a nervous glance at the other girls, she pushed her panties to the ground to reveal a neatly trimmed brown bush.

  “I’ll take those, dear,” Greta said, holding out her arms for the clothes. Jennifer handed everything over then asked, “How long do I have to stay this way before I can get dressed again?” Greta dropped the bundle of clothing behind the loveseat and grinned. “I suppose I should have mentioned that before. Once you’re asked to strip naked, you must stay that way for the rest of the game.”