The Game

 by Flatfish

Shana, the barbarian, stood at the edge of the chasm catching her breath. Her firm round breasts heaved and sweat glistened on her bronzed thighs and arms. She looked back over her shoulder, wide eyed, at the dark horseman and his frantic horde of fierce warriors. No time to stop. A short run along the edge of the chasm brought her to a stone bridge. It was narrow, only one stone wide with nothing on either side to stop an unsteady traveller falling to her death. There was no time for hesitation. Slowly and carefully, she edged her way along the bridge - half way - three quarters - she was almost there. Without warning, a stone crumbled under her foot. She swayed momentarily, then lost her balance, grabbed wildly at the air and plunged into the blackness below. 

Rick Waters put down the handset of the G3 game console and swung his chair around to face his boss. Jane Grayson was a very attractive young executive. Her long brown hair framed her pretty face and cascaded over her shoulders. She stood gripping a hot black coffee, one arm folded across her white blouse. Her smart, figure hugging pencil skirt clung to the contours of her hips and bottom. Her stiletto heals added to her height, essential for an up-and-coming female executive. 

“What do you think, Jane? This new console has fantastic graphics. Did you see how we have managed to show droplets of sweat on her skin? How about the heaving breasts? We will have every red blooded male in the country itching to buy this game.” 

“It is very impressive Rick,” Jane acknowledged. “Are we on schedule?” 

“No problem. It’s early days but we have level one in place and we are in the process of integrating level two. The rest are under development so we are on target to meet the deadline.” 

“Excellent,” said Jane, smiling. “Do you mind if I have a go?” 

“Sure, take a seat.” Rick rose from his swivel chair and indicated for Jane to sit down. “Have you read the script? Jane nodded but Rick continued to outline the game. “Basically, this is level one. Shana has to escape the Dark Horseman and cross over the ravine. When she reaches level two she will need to fight her way past the giant gatekeeper to get into the city. We are still working on it” 

Jane swung around to face the screen. She stood her coffee precariously on the edge of the desk and picked up the hand control. The early prototype console sat on the floor at her side. Its outer casing was missing and the hand control was attached by a short wire. 

“The game will re-start at the last save point,” said Rick. “That was just after Shana left the village.” 

Jane was not as tall as Rick so she adjusted her chair then reached over to adjust the monitor. In a moment of distraction, she accidentally caught her cup with her arm, tipping it over and spilling steaming coffee over the desk from where it poured down onto the exposed circuits of the prototype console. Instantly there was a flash and a loud bang. The full charge of the high-powered console shorted across the control wire, jarring Jane’s entire body – then darkness. 

When Jane awoke, she was laying on her back. She struggled to clear her head and find her bearings. She ran her hands over the ground and was puzzled to feel a lush carpet of grass. Squinting in the bright sunlight she sat up. Her head throbbed. 

“What’s going on?” she mumbled. “Where …where am I?” 

She struggled to her feet and looked around, dizzy, swaying a little. In the distance she could see what looked like an old world village. She felt… different. She looked down and her eyes opened wide. Her jaw dropped. “What the hell’s this,” she said. She cupped her breasts in her hands and stared at her cleavage. Her figure wasn’t hers. It was far more… voluptuous. What little clothing she had on was leather; a tight sleeveless top, laced under her bosom, a very short leather skirt and calf length boots encasing her long bronzed powerful legs. Across her hips hung a broad leather belt with a sheath holding what looked like the jewelled handle of a dagger. Slung across her back was a leather scabbard. She reached back over her shoulder and pulled out a short, broad bladed sword. It felt comfortable and familiar in her hand. 

“My god,” she said. “I, I’m Shana. This is impossible.” 

She tried pinching the skin on her arm. She had heard it could wake you if you were dreaming. It hurt but nothing changed. She was still Shana. She re-sheathed her sword and started walking towards the village. She didn’t know what else to do. Shana’s skills in the game were stamina and agility. Now she felt that strength. She had never felt so alive. She picked up the pace and started jogging towards the distant houses. Suddenly she stopped. A cloud of dust was coming from the village. As it came towards her she could make out the dark figure of a horseman on a powerful black steed. Around him, running, screaming and waving their weapons was a mob of fierce warriors. 

“Oh my God!” cried Shana. “It’s the Dark Horseman.”

She knew she had to escape. Turning on her heels she ran as fast as she could. Looking back over her shoulder she could see the warriors were catching up. She could see now that the Dark Horseman rode tall and powerful on his black stallion but his hoard of minions were no more that two feet tall; Dozens of warriors, each one a powerhouse of frenzied, angry muscle.  As the land unfolded in front of her she started to recognise it. She came to a halt and found herself precariously balanced at the edge of the deep ravine where Rick had lost Shana earlier. Off to the left, she could see the narrow stone bridge. She ran towards it and was about to cross when she remembered the crumbling stone that had ended Rick's game. Panicking she looked around for another way to cross. Should she run or should she fight. She drew her sword and started to run along the side of the ravine but her brief hesitation was all that the evil hoard needed to catch up. In an instant the fastest of the screaming mob was on her, leaping onto her back and wrapping powerful arms around her throat, choking her. Two more warriors grabbed at her ankles, tripping her up. Shana fell forward full length onto the grass, knocking the wind from her lungs. Then the mob was all over her, pinning down her arms and legs. 

“Now you pay!” screamed the evil minion on her back. 

With high-pitched gleeful cries, tiny powerful hands pulled up her skirt and dragged down her pants exposing her perfectly formed bottom. Shana’s face glowed with embarrassment. Some of the warriors had cut flexible switches from a nearby tree. They now stood on either side of her, ready to take turns at whipping the helpless girl. Shana screamed in anger and frustration as the first blow seared across her backside. The little warriors cheered and waved their switches in the air, then started to rain an incessant torrent of stinging whacks on her undefended flesh. By the time the Dark Horseman arrived Shana’s bottom was burning.  The Dark Horseman dismounted and strolled around to Shana’s head.  With a wave of his hand, the mob stopped beating the girl and fell into an awed silence. The Warrior on her back grabbed her hair and pulled her head back forcing her to look into the face of her captor. 

The Dark Horseman sneered. He strode away to a fallen tree trunk and sat down. “Bring her to me!” he ordered. His voice was deep and authoritative. 

The minions pulled Shana’s hands behind her back and in seconds her wrists were tied. Then forcing her to her feet they dragged her over to the evil warlord. 

“You have caused me a great deal of trouble, Shana,” said the Horseman, thoughtfully pulling at the fingers of his right gauntlet and dragging it off. He passed the glove to one of his men. “Come here." 

Shana knew that tone from her childhood. Her mother had frequently used it before taking the mischievous Jane Grayson over her knee for a well-earned spanking. 

“No way!” said Shana. But the minions pushed her and with her hands tied behind her back and her panties still wrapped around her thighs restricting her movements she stumbled forward landing face down across the Dark Horseman’s muscular thighs. The warlord brushed aside her tiny skirt and rested a heavy left hand on her waist, pinning her in position. Then raising his right hand he began to deliver a fierce spanking to her sore, naked bottom. 

Shana was furious and humiliated, but there was something else. In the real world Jane Grayson would never have allowed her self to be spanked, though she had secretly fantasised on occasions about giving herself totally to a “real man”. But here in this world, Shana, the barbarian, could live out her sexual desires without inhibition. Despite the pain that scorched her bottom with each stinging smack, there was something deeply erotic about being bound and spanked. Tears quickly came to her eyes but she resisted any sign of weakness. She kicked and cursed and demanded to be released. The spanking was relentless and the more her bottom blazed, the more aroused she became until at last she gave herself over to the tidal wave of emotion and cried. 

When the Horseman finally released her, Shana struggled to her feet. Tears ran down her face. “I suppose you’re going to rape me now,” she spat. 

“Shana. You insult me,” said the Dark Horseman. “When you come to my bed it will be your choice.” 

Shana, still bound, settled down near the campfire wondering how she was going to escape. She must have fallen asleep because the next thing she knew it was dark. A group of the Dark Horseman’s minions came over and forced her to her feet. The Horseman had taken over an abandoned woodsman’s cottage and Shana was taken to him. She was dragged inside and with a sudden push she was thrown face down on to the bed.  The minions left. The Dark Horseman gently untied her wrists. Shana turned over and looked into the face of her captor. He was a tall, muscular, handsome man. She was intensely sexually drawn to him. She climbed to her feet, hungry for him. They embraced and kissed passionately before sinking together back onto the deep furs covering the bed. 

In the early hours of the morning, the Dark Horseman slept. Shana lay naked by his side planning her escape. She slipped out of bed and pulled on her clothes and retrieved her weapons. Behind the cottage door she found a long coiled rope. She swung it over her shoulder and headed out into the forest. Circling around to avoid the Horseman’s minions, she made her way back to the stone bridge that spanned the ravine. 

Fastening one end of the rope to her waist and the other end to the hilt of her sword, carefully, slowly she began her journey across the bridge. At the mid point she stopped and began to swing her makeshift grappling hook. She built up as much speed as she could then let the sword fly out towards an overhanging tree at the far end of the bridge. The sword fell short and swung down nearly pulling her into the void below. Regaining her balance, she gathered up the rope and moved further along, conscious of the fact that the stones under her feet could crumble at any moment, sending her to her death. At the three quarter point she tried the rope again and this time the sword swung around the tree branch and locked into place. As she took another step, the bridge crumbled. Shana screamed and dropped into the darkness. Suddenly the rope tightened and she pendulumed into the side of the ravine. She was winded but alive. Seconds later she pulled herself up onto the far side of the ravine and made her way to level two. 

Shana jogged along the forest path. She was fully refreshed now and she knew that her strength and agility made her a match for any foe who would dare to cross her path. The road led towards the walled city of Remos. As the huge city gates came into view the landscape around her looked strange. Trees were partly formed and rocks appeared and disappeared from view. Shana stopped and looked around her. The whole area was in a state of flux. 

“Oh, of course.” she thought. “It’s all unstable because the team are still working on it. This part of the game is only partly written. This is where I am supposed to fight the giant gatekeeper.” 

As if in response to her thoughts, the huge gatekeeper suddenly appeared, blocking her way. He stood seven feet tall, a mountain of muscle, his scarred features partly obscured by a shaggy mop of greasy hair and a dark tangled beard. 

“Who tries to enter the city?” he bellowed. 

“I am Shana, a warrior from the North. Step aside and let me pass.” 

“I am Weros, the Gate Keeper. I have heard of you Shana. You are not welcome here. Return to your own lands or prepare to die.” 

Shana reached back and drew her sword. Crouching into a fighting stance she slowly approached her enemy. Suddenly there was another flux change. Shana’s sword vanished from her hand. She stared at her bare hands in horror. They were no longer the hands of a warrior; they were the beautifully manicured hands of Jane Grayson. She grabbed for her dagger but that too was gone. In the half formed world of the level two game she found herself returned to her real persona and she was now facing the giant gate keeper without weapons and dressed in a tight pencil skirt and high heels. 

As Weros came menacingly closer, Jane picked up a thick stick from the ground. Gripping it in both hands she gave her best baseball swing and landed a sickening blow on the giant’s left knee. Weros howled in agony and gripped his knee with both hands. With fury in his eyes he looked up at Jane, just in time for her second swing to catch him squarely under the chin, nearly taking his head off. Weros reared back, stunned. With an angry roar, he straightened up to his full height, shook his head and strode terrifyingly towards the helpless young executive. Jane valiantly took a third swing but this time Weros was ready. He caught the stick in one hand, yanked it out of her grip and threw it aside. Grabbing Jane by both arms he lifted her off the ground until their faces were inches apart. 

“Let me go you vile animal,” she screamed. 

“You are not Shana,” the giant said, appraising Jane’s soft curves. “I will not fight you.” 

Throwing Jane over his shoulder, he carried her over to a large rock at the side of the road. She kicked her legs and hammered on his back but her blows were no more effective than fleabites. Sitting down, Weros lowered her to the ground. She tried to run, but the huge gatekeeper caught her by the wrist and yanked her back. 

“Oh no you don’t,” he laughed. “I have a score to settle with you.” 

Wrapping a meaty arm around her waist, he sent Jane sprawling over his knee. 

“Let me go!” she screamed.  Weros rested his huge callused hand on the curvaceous swell of her bottom, feeling the firm round flesh beneath her skin-tight skirt.  “Don’t you dare!” she cried. 

“This is for pretending to be a Warrior,” said Weros, landing a resounding smack on the beautiful target, the first of many as he launched into the task of giving her a spanking she would never forget. Jane screamed and cursed with every blow. At first she was defiant, angry, demanding to be released. But as the fire in her bottom increased she cried and pleaded, begging for the pain to stop. 

After an eternity, Weros finally rested his hand and Jane reached back, sobbing, to rub her stinging rear. The giant moved her hand aside. “Oh no. We haven’t finished yet.” 

Grabbing the hem of Jane’s short skirt, Weros dragged it up to her waist. 

“Oh my God! No! Please!” she begged. 

Weros looked down at Jane’s reddened bottom, semi covered by white panties and framed by her suspenders. “This is for trying to break my knee,” he said. He raised his hand high and landed an extra hard smack on her tender backside. Jane screamed and kicked, struggling to escape. Weros held her firmly and delivered a second blistering spanking to her scantily covered bottom. 

“You … monster!” cried Jane, trying to catch her breath between sobs. 

Weros laughed and grabbed the waistband of her panties. 

“Noho!” she wailed. “Please! Don’t! I can’t take any more.” 

“And this is for trying to smash my jaw!” he said, yanking the panties roughly down to her knees. 

Reaching down to the floor, Weros slipped off one of his huge sandals, a thick leather sole bound to his foot by thin straps. He gripped the sandal like a paddle and rested the cool leather against Jane’s naked, scorching bottom; then raising it high, he slapped it down with a resounding crack that echoed off the nearby trees. Jane screamed again, kicking her legs and bouncing her hips up and down on his knee, unable to escape the searing pain. Tears streamed down her face and she cried herself hoarse as Weros continued the relentless paddling. 

When he had finished, Weros pushed Jane off his knee and she rolled to the floor, clutching and rubbing her scarlet, blazing bottom, unable to quell the raging fire. Weros reached down and pulled her to her feet. Sobbing and sniffing, Jane gently eased her panties up over her bottom and pulled down her skirt. Weros grabbed her by the arm. 

“Come,” he said. 

“What? Where are you taking me?” 

“You wanted to enter the city. Well that’s where we’re going. You are my prisoner and a pretty girl like you will fetch a good price in the market.” 

Weros pushed open the city gates and dragged Jane through into the market square. Like the rest of level two, this part of the game was incomplete. A few stalls were scattered around and a dozen people milled about. The far end of the square led to a central road that disappeared into a grey mist where the game ceased to exist. At the side of the square, on a small raised platform, a wiry old man stood shouting to a sparse crowd. 

“Get your slaves here! Finest stock! Prisoners from the war in the north! Galley slaves, house slaves, handmaidens and whores, what ever you want, we have it.” 

 Weros strode over to the slave dealer, pulling Jane along with him. “Here Luco. What can you get me for this feisty beauty?” 

“Bring her up here Weros. Let’s have a look.” 

Weros and Jane joined Luco on the platform. The slave dealer walked around them, appraising the goods. He let Jane’s long brown hair fall through his fingers weighed her breasts in his hands and slapped her hard on her bottom to assess its firmness, adding an eye watering sting to her already sore flesh. Jane was desperate to protest but she kept quiet for fear of another session over the knee of Weros. 

A crowd was starting to gather, interested in Luco’s new stock. A sweaty, bloated, red faced, merchant licked his fat lips. 

“Show us what you’ve got,” he shouted. “We need to see what we’re buying.” 

Jane turned a deep pink with embarrassment and rage when Luco ripped open her blouse. But, before she could protest he grabbed the waistband of her pencil skirt and ripped that away as well. This was too much. Jane broke away from Weros’s grip, kicked Loco in the shins and grabbing her skirt from the floor she leapt from the platform into the crowd. She expected to make her escape but the fat merchant grabbed her and held her. 

“Looks like you’ve got a slippery one,” said the merchant. “I’ll give you five guineas.” 

Jane struggled and screamed in frustration and anger. 

“Not a chance,” said Luco rubbing his bruised shin. “She’s worth twice that. We’ll see if a couple of hours on the block will tame her.” 

Luco and Weros stepped down from the platform and along with the merchant; the three leering men stripped away the rest of Jane’s clothes. Luco fastened a leather collar with a three-foot chain around her neck and then towed the struggling, naked girl though the crowd. 

A block of white rock, three-foot square and waist high, occupied the centre of the town square. Mettle rings hung from three sides. Jane was dragged struggling and fighting up to the block. She was lifted and laid with her upper body face down on top of the cold stone. Her wrists were chained to the side rings and her neck chain was fastened to the ring on the far side. Luco produced a long wooden paddle and tapped it against Jane’s undefended bottom. 

“Ok,” he shouted to the gathered crowd. “Who’s first?” 

A large woman pushed her way to the front and grabbed the paddle. The crowd moved back to give her room for a good swing. Gripping the paddle with both hands she raised it past her shoulder. “This is for that floozy that my husband’s been seeing!” she shouted, and swung the paddle with all her strength. She was a strong woman and the paddled smacked against Jane’s naked bottom with a resounding crack that echoed off the nearby buildings. Jane screamed and pulled helplessly at her chains. The woman wound back for a second shot and once again the paddled whacked against Jane’s stinging backside. 

“Oh my God. Oh my God. Stop! ” Jane pleaded.

 A third stinging blow left Jane’s bottom blazing and red. The woman handed the paddle back to Luco. “I enjoyed that,” she said. “In fact now I’m going to find that floozy and tan her backside as well.” 

The town blacksmith was next to take up the paddle. He wondered around to the front of the block so that Jane could see him. She looked at him with tear filled eyes and was horrified to see his enormous muscles. He tapped the paddle menacingly against his hand, smiled with blackened teeth, and then took up his place to deliver the paddling. 

“This is for his Lordship’s eldest. It’s three weeks since that brat had me shoe her horse and she still hasn’t paid.” 

The blacksmith only needed one enormous hand to grip the paddle. He swung it back then whacked it hard against Jane’s tender cheeks, venting his pent up rage at the Lord of the Manor’s spoiled eighteen-year-old daughter. 

Jane screamed again and started crying. She knew that she could not escape and it seemed that the entire township were going to take out their petty grievances on her blistered bottom. 

As the blacksmith raised the paddle for his second blow a horsewhip cracked over the heads of the crowd snatching it from his grip. The crowd parted and the dark horseman cantered up to the block. He swung down from his horse and drew a broad heavy sword. 

“This woman is mine,” he said. In three blows he shattered the chains that held Jane to the rock. Gripping her around the waist, he carried the naked girl over to his horse. He threw his black cloak around her shoulders and helped her mount up. Climbing up behind her, he silenced the protesting crowd with a withering sneer. 

With a sharp jab from the horseman’s spurs, the black stallion reared up and then took off at a gallop, thundering down the street towards the grey mist at the edge of the game. Within seconds the mist engulfed the horse and riders. In an instant the hammering of hooves stopped, and Jane found herself alone, floating in a cool, grey silence. After a few seconds there was a new sensation. Jane slowly realised that she wasn’t floating; she was lying on her back. Beneath her she could feel the smooth crisp linen of hospital sheets. Slowly she opened her eyes and could make out the blurry shapes of people. 

“My God! Nurse, Nurse, she’s awake!” 

A week later, Jane, still weak from the accident was anxious to get back to work. Her experience as a console game character still haunted her, and several sessions with a psychiatrist had failed to fully convince her that she had imagined the whole thing. 

“It is very unusual Miss Grayson,” the doctor said. “You were in a deep coma for three days and yet you appear to have experienced an extensive and detailed lucid dream. It seems that your mind latched onto the last experience you had before the accident, the console game, and then used that experience as a backcloth for your most deeply repressed sexual fantasies.”

Jane remained very sceptical. The game world had been so real, the trees, the grass, the people, not to mention how much it hurt being repeatedly spanked! And, psychosomatic or not, her bottom was still sore. On the other hand there was no denying that the experience was really sexually intense and it had left her with an overwhelming desire for more of the same. After the rich adventure, life was remarkably dull but Jane knew that somehow, one day soon, she would return to the land of the barbarian and feel again the burn of a sound spanking.