Candlelight Supper
Hyacinth lit the final pillar candle and stood back to admire her precisely decorated table, with its place settings of paper-thin ceramic plates, linen napkins, and silverware polished so finely that every piece displayed a faithful reflection of the flickering flames. Ever the consummate hostess, Hyacinth took pride in a tasteful table, though she’d recently had to buy a new, larger one to accommodate her new centerpiece. The new table was much sturdier than the old one, heavy and bound in brass, with sturdy metal rings at each corner and one on either side at the middle.
The doorbell chimed its musical tune. Hyacinth smiled once at her table, then went to the door to admit Elizabeth.
“Ah, Elizabeth,” Hyacinth said, beaming, “And right on time, too.”
“Yes, Hyacinth, I came early like you asked me to,” Elizabeth replied.
“Yes, thank you, dear. I wanted to get your opinion on my table before my guests arrive,” said Hyacinth, steering Elizabeth in the direction of the dining room.
“Of course, like last time,” Elizabeth said. “And the time before that.”
“Not quite, dear,” Hyacinth said. “I have a brand new centerpiece for my table, and I want you to be the first to see it.”
Elizabeth stepped into the dining room, and then reeled back in shock.
“Richard?” she said, unable to believe her eyes. There, lying spread-eagle on the table, wrists and ankles firmly cuffed in padded leather and with a similarly padded strap stretched across his waist, blindfolded and naked as the day he was born, lay Hyacinth’s husband Richard.
“Hyacinth, what is this?” Elizabeth asked breathlessly, averting her eyes and blushing furiously.
“It’s just a new party game, dear,” Hyacinth said happily. “We’ve been working out the details for weeks to get everything ready.”
“Ready? Is Richard all right?” said Elizabeth.
“Of course, he’s fine, aren’t you, dear?” Hyacinth ran her hands lightly down Richard’s sides, eliciting a quiver from his body and a snort of laughter from behind the ball gag in his mouth.
“Richard, please don’t snort, dear,” Hyacinth admonished. “I don’t think it’s nice, especially this early in the evening.”
“Hyacinth,” Elizabeth began, hardly knowing where to begin, “why is Richard tied up to the table? What kind of party game could this possibly be appropriate for?”
“Just a little gathering among friends, dear,” said Hyacinth, patting Elizabeth’s arm. “And since you are my closest friend, we’ve decided to invite you into our exclusive little club.”
“Hyacinth, what is going on?” Elizabeth demanded.
“I told you: it’s a part game. Look at the place settings. Knife, spoon, fork, and most importantly, feather.” Playfully, Hyacinth brandished a long, white, sharply pointed feather set in a handle of silver under Elizabeth’s nose. “There are ten place settings all together, and finally, we have this.” Hyacinth lifted a cover on the sideboard to reveal a large wheel labeled with nine parts of the body.
“This is really a game for nine, but as hostess, I shall not partake tonight,” Hyacinth went on. “You see, it’s like those American game shows Richard likes to watch on the television. I shall spin the wheel, and each guest will use her feather to tickle whichever part of the body corresponds to her assigned seat for thirty seconds. It’s delightful fun! The game goes on until the party is over, or until Richard ejaculates, whichever comes first.”
Elizabeth stood stunned. How could Hyacinth allow such a thing? How could Richard submit to it? On the other hand… Elizabeth had always felt a certain attraction to Richard, a sort of slightly-deeper-than-friendly affection for him. And Hyacinth couldn’t possibly have forced Richard into this position, could she? So perhaps it was all right, as long as she kept it in strictest confidence.
The doorbell sounded again.
“Ah, that will be my other guests!” Hyacinth clapped her hands once in delight. “There are little cards at each place setting; be a dear and take your seat whilst I welcome the others.”
Hyacinth left the room. Cautiously, Elizabeth crept around the table and began to search for her place. Each card indicated both the name of the guest and a part of the body. Before she could find her own, Hyacinth returned, followed by eight other women Elizabeth had never imagined she would see as guests in Hyacinth’s home. They were dressed shockingly provocatively, they all wore entirely too much make-up, and none of them could possibly have been over the age of twenty-five.
“Your place is at the foot of the table, Elizabeth,” Hyacinth said. “Yes, right there, between his legs. It’s your first time playing, so you get pride of place.”
Elizabeth sat down, still averting her eyes. Unfortunately, this brought her gaze directly to her own card: Elizabeth Warden, Penis. Elizabeth began to hyperventilate.
“Elizabeth, what’s wrong, dear? Oh, is it your assignment? I shouldn’t worry too much; it hardly ever comes up, and when it does, Richard does so appreciate the attention,” Hyacinth said as the rest of the gathering found their places.
“Now this is Monica, Erica, Louise, Candy, Salome, Patricia, Eloise, and Trixie.” Hyacinth indicated each woman in turn. “They’re the ladies who’ve been helping us develop this little game. Ladies, this is my best friend Elizabeth.
“Now, shall we begin?”
The gathered women, apart from Elizabeth, chorused enthusiastic agreement. Without further ado, Hyacinth served the first course, then took a seat not at the table, but by the wheel. Still smiling, she gave the wheel a spin. Richard started to breathe faster at the sound of the little arrow clicking between the pins.
“And to begin,” said Hyacinth, “we have Louise at the underarms! Let me set the timer for thirty seconds… and tickle!”
Louise grinned and fluttered her feather under Richard’s nose, then began running it up and down his smooth-shaven armpits. Richard jerked to the side, but the cuffs and the strap held him firmly in place. Elizabeth couldn’t bring herself to watch, choosing instead to focus her attention on her hot starter. The seconds ticked by. Finally, the timer played a musical little tune, but the heavy breathing went on.
“Next we have… Candy at the right foot!” Hyacinth declared.
Candy set down her fork and reached for her feather. Richard seemed to try to steel himself, but as the feather slid between his toes his foot began to flail. Candy captured it in one hand, holding the toes back to keep the sole taut. A burst of laughter struggled to escape Richard’s gag, almost as hard as Richard struggled himself.
Patricia’s turn came next, at the left foot. Unlike Candy, she focused her attention on Richard’s sensitive toes. Richard began to gasp for breath, now chuckling without reservation. Then, to Elizabeth’s surprise, he moaned. Elizabeth ventured to look up, and to her delighted horror, Richard’s penis was beginning to swell.
Hyacinth noticed Elizabeth’s widening eyes and winked conspiratorially. “Don’t worry; you’ll get a turn, dear,” she said sotto voce.
The next spin of the wheel directed Monica to Richard’s belly. Richard desperately sucked in his stomach, but the tickling feather began a slow inward spiral towards his navel. Richard’s belly began to quiver, and then to pop outward again as he laughed heartily. He began to thrash his head about, so Hyacinth left her place by the wheel.
“Now, Richard, you know the rules about holding your head still,” she admonished. “You’ll do yourself a mischief if you knock your head against the table.
“I’m so sorry, ladies, just let me…” Hyacinth paused the timer, pretending not to notice that Monica was idly flicking her feather against the tip of Richard’s penis while Hyacinth strapped his head down. “There we are,” she announced, and turned the timer back on.
Instead of continuing her spiraling torment, Monica took the opportunity to plunge her feather deep into Richard’s navel. Richard giggled madly, squirming frantically in his bonds.
And so the party went. Erica teased Richard’s left nipple into a stiff peak. His unusually large areola crinkled like the walls of a miniature maze, which Erica explored with the sharp tip of her feather. As fortune would have it, Richard’s right nipple came up next. Like the left, it had already tightened, so Eloise spent a leisurely thirty seconds tracing not the crevices, but the walls of the little labyrinth. Richard, for his part, seemed to be trying to say something, but between the gag and his peals of laughter, Elizabeth couldn’t make out what he was saying. It sounded like “skoff,” repeated over and over.
Elizabeth watched in growing fascination while Salome tickled up and down the inside of Richard’s right leg, and then Trixie the left. Every now and again they too stole a brief opportunity to give a little fleeting attention to Richard’s erection, making his hips jerk hard against the strap across his torso.
Courses came, and courses went. Hyacinth made sure always to spin the wheel again before she left the room to serve. By the time the cheese course came, Richard’s penis was standing out like a wooden stalk and dripping with precum, which Hyacinth tidied away from time to time. Elizabeth had long since lost her shyness, and sat staring at the engorged organ. The veins stood out, the head twitched and drooled, and Elizabeth even thought she could see it throb in time with his pulse. Richard had abandoned himself to laughter and muffled pleading, shrieking now and then when a feather ventured across his neglected arousal.
In all the time that had passed, Elizabeth’s turn had never come up once, and she was beginning to resent it. The final course was approaching and still she hadn’t had the chance to tickle the writhing body before her. She wondered if Hyacinth had noticed.
“And finally, the fruit,” Hyacinth announced. She gave the wheel a spin and finally, finally Elizabeth’s turn came up. She didn’t set the timer before she left the room; she just winked at Elizabeth and said, “Now remember, dear: only thirty seconds.”
The other women watched Elizabeth, mouths open in anticipation. For all her desire to tickle Richard, now that the time had come, Elizabeth hesitated with all those eyes on her. Slowly, she put down her spoon and let her hand slide to the waiting feather. Richard was breathing hard, taking advantage of her hesitation to catch his breath, but Elizabeth thought she saw his hips cock down toward her. That last little bit of encouragement broke the dam; Elizabeth’s feather swept in and traced each vein in Richard’s throbbing penis. She rose from her seat so she could trace the wicked plume around the base of the head, spiraling upward to tease the dripping slit at the tip before moving down to tickle Richard’s scrotum. She wasn’t sure if this were strictly allowed; but, curiously, Hyacinth had not yet returned from the kitchen, so she kept feathering away, front, back, sides, around and around Richard’s (surely) aching erection, neglecting nothing, but keeping the touch light. Richard bucked harder and harder, trying both to escape the teasing feather and to pursue it in desperate search for release. His breath began to stutter, and his hips to move in rhythmic thrusting.
“Time, dear,” said Hyacinth’s cheerful voice as she served the final course. Reluctantly, Elizabeth stopped her tickling in favor of finishing her portion. The game hadn’t come to a close yet, of course; the wheel continued to spin and Richard to wriggle and strain against his bonds. Elizabeth couldn’t take her eyes off him. For the first time in her life, she wasn’t worried about damaging Hyacinth’s valuable porcelain. All she could think of was Richard, and how his now dark purple penis must positively ache with the need. She wondered how he could bear it. She didn’t even realize she had finished her fruit until Hyacinth spoke again.
“Now, ladies, shall we retire to the living room for coffee? Good! But first…” Hyacinth gave the wheel one final spin. To Elizabeth’s astonishment, the little arrow came to a rest once again on the one section that was for some reason one-third the size of the others: Penis.
“Well, go on, dear,” Hyacinth urged. The other women murmured enthusiastic encouragement.
Hyacinth set the timer and Elizabeth lifted her feather. Feeling a hint of pity, she rubbed it in a sawing motion in Richard’s slit. Richard groaned and bucked upward. Any second now, Elizabeth knew, he might achieve climax…
The timer chimed its musical tone. Elizabeth stopped at once. Richard shrieked through his gag, managing to pull his head free so he could give her a frantic, imploring look; but Elizabeth just shook her head sadly and rose with the others.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” she whispered as she passed his head, “but you know how Hyacinth likes to keep her tablecloth clean.”
