Donation [Long -- N/F and F] [NON-FICTION and FICTION]

[LordCaspen]

NOTE: This is a bit long, and I'll leave it to you to sort out the fiction from the non-ficiton. I hope you like it.

I've a distinct sexual fixation on strip games, although I've never had the pleasure of playing one live.

So, I met this guy through a website devoted to pics of guys losing at strip games and we chatted a bit. Mostly, I was telling him about myself, including that I like to do community theatre and that I'd never played a strip game before. He challenged me to chess with forfeits. I asked him what kind of forfeits, and he said he'd come up with something. The following day, he e-mailed me a pic detailing what he wanted with graphics. It's too graphic for here, but suffice to say there were three parts:

1) Post him a pair of my underwear, recently worn
2) E-mail him a pic of myself naked, cross-legged, face possibly obscured (up to me)
3) I was to wear no underwear under my trousers during the run of my next show.


When we met that night online, he asked me for a list of forfeits in exchange, and I told him same deal, except since I didn't think he'd be doing any shows (per the third forfeit), I wanted him to tell me what an ideal encounter would be like with me in person ... sexual or not, just what he'd like to do if I flew out to see him.

He said, "Done," so we went to an online chess site, we signed up and started our game.

I was deeply nervous. I'm good at the game, or decentish, anyway, and he kept telling me he wasn't any good, but on the other hand I knew my boyfriend would disapprove if he knew (he was asleep in the other room), and I want to be an actor, so if the pic of me losing ever got released to the public, my career could be made very hard. Still, I trusted him, and I was sure to win -- besides, the thrill is in the fact there is something to lose, and I wanted to win, so I could find out how his mind works. Did he want to just play games and go to dinner if we met, or did he want to forcibly strip me, humiliate me, use me? I figured since that was one of the stakes, I'd never know unless I won.


But I lost. It was a narrow loss ... just a stupid move with my knight somewhere midgame. But he was gloating and carrying on and I felt my world going very still and tingly and my breath got shorter.

I didn't want to go through with the forfeits (although I kind of did, too), but I figured a bet is a bet. So, I was only joking (sort of) when I said, "Best of three?"

I was floored when he wrote back, "Ok."

And then he followed it up with, "But if you win, forfeits are same, and if I still win, it'll go harder on you." More forfeits. I asked him what the stakes were, but he wouldn't say, just told me to trust him and I'd like it. "Or," he said, "you could just do the forfeits on the table."

So the second game started. I was a game behind, so I tried to pay better attention, think further ahead. As the game went, I told him I thought he'd said he didn't think he'd win the first time, and he said he was surprised when he did. I said, "Then why are you challenging me again?" and he said, "Your forfeits are okay, but I really want to see you naked. Now, I've got something to lose."

The second game I won. It wasn't easy, but the scale tipped my way about two-thirds through, with piece after piece flying off the board, til my rooks/knight combo was left against his bishop and queen. With so little left he overreached and left himself vulnerable.

Sweet. Now, the stakes were higher, I was no further ahead, really, now that I look back on it, but I had a chance to get out of my debt *and* to see him naked *and* to get that fantasy story about me. Also, flush with victory, I was psyched to get into the new game.

It did not go well for me. It took an hour, but in the end I lost, checkmated by a stupid pawn. I couldn't believe it. My heart was fairly thudding against my ribs and I felt this electricity all up and down my legs and I was hoping he was just going to ask for *my* fantasy if we met, which I'd thought of plenty, believe me.

Instead, he wrote, "Webcam?"

"Yes," I wrote back.

He had us connect using Yahoo! and he told me to set up so he could see my whole body.

"Cute," he said. "Now strip."

I'd figured that was coming. I'm not terribly proud of my body, I should say ... I'm thin, but not very physical, so not much muscle tone. I wanted to prolong the game, so I asked him not to have me strip, but he said, "Fuck that. You bet me, lad, now get them clothes off."

So I got up and stood where the camera could see all of me, and took it all off. Button-down shirt, t-shirt. Old shoes. Socks. I only had tighty-whities on beneath my jeans and figured I'd look about eight-years-old in them, but I didn't want to keep him waiting, so I shucked the jeans.

He messaged me and I got close to read it:

"NICE!
"Now the shorts, please.
"And then turn around. Slowly.
"And don't cover anything up."

I went back and did as he asked. I would have figured I'd have a boner at this point -- I'd had earlier when I started to strip, even -- but somehow my nervousness had drained me and my penis was a floppy when I dropped my shorts to my ankles. I picked them up in one hand, but, per orders, didn't cover anything up as I made a slow revolution.

Something about the humiliation, which I could feel stinging all across my skin, and the fact my boyfriend might come into the room any time started to get me excited and as I turned back around to face the camera I was feeling it harden. I knew it was wrong, but I suddenly wanted this guy's hands on me and I stiffened pretty good. I let him get a good look before I rushed back to the machine.

"Satisfied?" I said.

"Excited?" he replied. "Thanks for the bonus."

"No problem. Was that all?"

"Haha. Not even close."


To start with, he had me, in full sight of the webcam, write my initials and the date on the inside of the waistband of my underwear with a black marker. Then he ordered me to mail the shorts to him right then -- make out the envelope with his address, stuff the shorts inside, seal and stamp the envelope, and go out to the front door to put it in the box.
Then he made me take the cross-legged pic of myself, face not obscured, and send it to him.

Then he asked if I had a video camera, and I haven't, so he said he'd have to take a little bit of the next part at my word.

He told me to grab a pair of my shorts -- more tighty-whities, if I had them -- out of the laundry and put them on in front of the cam. I did it, cotton briefs like before. Then he told me to get dressed again, so I did, knowing something was up. He told me to describe where I lived -- the surrounding area. I gave him some information and then he gave me his instructions.

[Cont'd]

[LordCaspen]

[Cont'd]

I boggled and protested -- I was sure I was going to get caught, even at this late hour (it was two in the morning). He reminded me again of our bet, and even hinted he'd be able to tell my boyfriend what we'd said, and that I was mailing him my underwear, and that sealed it. He may not know how to get in touch with my bf, but I couldn't remember everything I'd told him, so it was just possible ... and besides, a bet is a bet.

I left the computer on and went outside, locking up behind me. It was cold out, as you might expect, and I was not looking forward to this.

A couple of blocks from where I live, in back of a restaurant, is a box for dumping clothes donations. A metal thing with a door that drops things down beyond reach from the outside. It's behind some dumpsters, but the restaurant is right on the intersection of a fairly busy street.

I got there, and had to wait, as a couple of cars passed on the back-side of the restaurant. My stomach is doing flip-flops and I'm contemplating backing out. But then I remembered what I'd told myself putting on the old shorts at home: if I put on used briefs like he asked then I would *have* to go through with it.

After a few minutes of no cars, I took a breath and then went to work. I popped off my shoes, one then the other, and dropped them inside the clothes box -- thunk, thunk. I've got a fetish for boys in socks and shorts so I skipped the socks and unbuttoned my top shirt instead, and slid it into the box. A car was coming up the hill on the backside of the place but it was going fast I was sure it would go right by me and it did, but it had to stop at the light. If another car came up behind it, no matter how fast it was going, it'd stop and the driver would probably see me.

I went faster -- t-shirt practically ripped off and I slid it in, too. Then jeans. I had them partly down when another car came up the hill and I had to duck behind a dumpster. Luckily, no one saw me, as the second car was a patrol car. The light changed, and both cars took off and I was alone again.

I came out from behind the dumpster -- "unless it directly compromises you before you get naked, you cannot hide," I was told -- and so in stockinged feet pulled off each leg of my pants, remembered to fish out my housekeys, and then put them in, too. Then I did my shorts, yanking them off around a raging hard-on and hearing them slide along the door as I closed it and flop inside on top everything else. Finally, I peeled off a sock -- "drop the first one in before taking off the second" -- dropped it in, and then did the second. I was "bare-ass naked," and took a few deep breaths for the run home.

I'm not in great shape, but I used to love to run, so I was prepared for that part of things. My hard on died a little bit in the cold, and my feet were getting a little roughed up on the pavement, but I felt so free and so cold and afraid pounding asphalt pell-mell for home. The first block nothing happened but as I was barreling into the second a car turned onto the street and slowed down as I approached.

It had stopped by the time I passed it. The driver got out of the car, but I wasn't stopping. I rounded a corner and kept going, even as I heard him call something out and laugh.

I didn't stop until I reached our house at the end of our block. I used the keys to open the door and closed it behind me, catching my breath and every nerve shattered. I laughed a little, and then slowly went back to the computer, making sure the webcam caught me totally nude.

My friend wrote me:

"Well done.
"I like your body. Nice ass, not a very big dick but sweet. How was your run?"

I told him about it, and he laughed and then said,

"Don't forget not to wear any shorts during your next show."


For the first weekend, too, of my next show, I didn't. But I figured I'd given him so much, and I couldn't keep changing into costume in the men's room, so I chickened out the last three weekends.

I don't dare tell him, in case he gives me something worse to do instead. I mean, I had fun, but there's only so far I'm willing to push my luck. Next time, I'm bound to get caught -- by neighbors, by police, or by my bf.

[molten man]

Nice one. Is there anything more??

[x.Emma.x]

That was great! How much of it was non-fiction? I'd love to hear more of your work. Shame this is a year old.