Game of a Lifetime
  • Author - Julie Johnson
  • Rating -   
  • Site Rank - 125 of 2955
  • Story Codes - F-f, f-self, non-consensual, bodymod, bondage, chastity, extreme, humiliation, machine, self-bondage, slavery, snuff, toys
  • Post Date - 11/23/2007

It all started many years ago. When I first met Steve, it was not exactly love at first sight. In fact, for the better part of our time together at Georgetown, we barely spoke. Not that there wasn’t some interest and even the occasional spark, but I was way out of his league. And with my reputation to protect, there was no way I was going to date him.

Before Steve and I ever met, I had a career as a professional ballet dancer with the New York City Ballet. I looked the part – 5’6” tall, 110 lbs, long blond hair, and endless legs. On top of it, I could do splits any time of day, and do pirouettes on my toes. My dating pool was largely the basketball team and on a bad day the football team. Steve was in neither – not even close.

What led me to Steve over time was the same thing that made me quit ballet, and kept me from having more than a handful of dates with any of my boyfriends. I had a brain. And I loved to play with people’s minds. Sex, for me, was almost 100% in the sexual tension that exists in daring situations, risk of getting caught, or sheer prospect of humiliation. And Steve was the first one to figure that out.

It was the last week of our senior year. We were all getting ready for finals and parties. Steve and I had physics together and a couple of times we were in the same study group. After one of our last classes, he gave me a note as we walked out. I still have it – 20 years later. It changed my life. It simply said: “Do you want to play a game? Be careful, if you say ‘yes’ there is no turning back. Steve.”

By the time I had read the note, I was totally captured in his spell. What the hell was he thinking? What ‘game’ was he talking about?

I didn’t see Steve again until we had our finals. When we were done, I have him a note back. I have not seen it since, but I know he still has it. It had just one word written on it: “YES”.

I had lost touch with Steve after we graduated, and even though I had a lot of other stuff going on, I kept wondering what his mysterious note was all about. Then, in the days before Christmas, I got a card from Steve. I did not really think that it would say anything other than the casual holiday wishes, but I still opened it right away with some anticipation.

“Remember our game? Every year for the holidays, I will send you a present. I want you to take a picture of yourself in front of a Christmas tree wearing my present. If I receive the picture by December 31st, you will get another present next year. If I don’t, the game is over and you lose.”

I was more than a bit disappointed. Could Steve really turn out to be just a freak who wanted to see me in picture wearing sexy lingerie or something? After all that anticipation, this seemed like a big let-down.

As expected, I got a little package from ‘Steve’ the day before Christmas. It wasn’t very big, but heavier than I had anticipated. To avoid any embarrassment in front of my family, I opened his box the night before. It wasn’t anything like what I had expected. I was thrilled!

Inside the box was a shiny stainless steel collar. It looked to be just my size. If this is what he had in mind by seeing me wearing his presents, things were all of a sudden getting much more exciting. I explored the collar in a bit more detail. It had an elaborate locking mechanism, a tiny keyhole, weighed about a pound, and was just small enough to pass as jewelry. It was obviously a ‘slave collar’, but nearly passable as everyday wear.

I had to try it on right away. It fit snuggly around my neck and I needed to give it a bit of a push to bring the two ends together behind my neck. Then the locking mechanism clicked in – done. I looked at myself in the mirror and immediately adored my new jewelry. I was sure to take a picture of it and send it back to Steve. I was already thinking when might be a good time to wear it out in public for the first time. So many possibilities….

I went back to the box to look for the key……I should have known that there wasn’t one!!! Stupid me!! How the hell was I going to get out of this collar. My parents were going to come the next morning and I did not really want to introduce myself as their new ‘slave daughter’. I was mad as hell. What the fuck was this asshole thinking!

As I fell asleep that night, I had dreams of being stuck in this collar for a lifetime. Humiliation, shame, and embarrassment followed me everywhere I went. It was the most erotic dream I ever had in my life! I experienced orgasm after orgasm in my dreams and didn’t want it to end – ever.

The next day, Christmas Day, I got another card from Steve. Finally he bothered to explain what he meant by the game. The rules were quite simple.

“Dear Julie,

I hope you are enjoying your present. If you like it, send me a picture. If I get it before the year is up, I will send you another present next Christmas. If I don’t get a picture, I will destroy the key that opens your collar by January 1st and the game is over. You may have noticed the very intricate locking mechanism. I doubt you will find another key that opens the lock. The collar is yours to keep.

We can play this game for as long as you wish – up to 20 years. If you ever fail to send me a picture, the game is over. If you make it through all 20 years, you will have a choice. You can either ask to have your normal life restored, or you can ask for one final present.


What was I to do? This could get really creepy, or be the dream of a lifetime. I took a picture, went to my computer, and sent it via email to Steve.

That was 20 years ago!

Every year, I could not wait for Christmas to come. By now, Steve’s presents all but turned me into his sex slave, even though I had not seen him in all this time.

My friends and family quickly got used to the collar that decorated my neck. After a while, I almost did not notice it anymore and began to look for more. The second year, Steve sent me similar steel rings, but for my ankles. They too locked permanently. At first they seemed more decorative than anything and I was a little disappointed. Except for the summer months, nobody would really notice. The following year I got two more rings just like them. They too were for my ankles, but made the earlier ones twice as wide. As soon as I put them on, I noticed that I could no longer flatten my feet. The rings were so tight that they pushed my Achilles tendon and thereby effectively shortened it. For the next year, I wore always at least 2-inch heels.

I almost anticipated my present for the fourth and fifth year – more rings. Obediently, I always locked them on my legs as soon as I got them. I knew that this would mean that I had to wear higher and higher heels from now on. By the fifth year, I had to keep my feet in a complete en point position. I could either wear 6-inch heels, or put on my toe shoes!

To cover up my rings while at work and with friends, I resorted to wearing only pants. But I could not hide the incredible heels. My feet were nearly constantly in pain and many activities were no longer possible. But I continued to live a relatively normal life.

The next year I got a somewhat different present. It was a chastity belt. The funny thing was that it had rather large round openings both in front and in back – not exactly what the inventors had in mind. I had the funny feeling though as if this was not the end. And I would not be disappointed in the next two years.

The following year, I got a steel anal plug that fit right into the opening. It took a lot of attempts and a lot of lubricant to get the massive plug into my behind. I tried for several days but could not get it in. Time was beginning to run out before the December 31st deadline and I was beginning to panic. I did not want to give up now! With only minutes to go, I was again pushing as hard as I could. If I pushed any harder, there was no telling what I would tear, and what the consequences would be. But with time running out, I had no choice!

Out of desperation, I positioned myself with the plug in place right above a solid wood stool, and pushed myself down as hard as I could. I screamed like I never screamed before and the pain was totally overwhelming, but I finally managed to get the plug in. The reassuring ‘click’ was a comforting sign that I had succeeded. Within a few minutes, I had taken a picture, and sent it to Steve.

During the course of the year, I had learned to live of liquid food. There was no way I could expel anything from my behind. Another change in my lifestyle.

The next year, I was not surprised in the least to receive a steel dildo. It was a lot easier to get in, and did allow for basic bodily functions. But what made it a hundred times worse than the anal plug were the electric shocks that started as soon as the lock had engaged. It was terrible. At random intervals, I received strong electric shocks that nearly knocked me unconscious. My nights of uninterrupted sleep were quickly a thing of the past. Working became nearly impossible. As much as I loved the situation I was in, I was finding myself very quickly on a path to social isolation, pain, and humiliation.

The following year, my physical restrain was taken to another level. I received a steel corset for Christmas! The steel corset locked perfectly to my chastity belt. At first it did not seem awfully tight. But that changed after several days of wearing it. With every day, the corset seemed to tighten mechanically. I had not noticed it before, but the locking mechanism in the back seemed to have a little powerful motor built in that gradually tightened the corset. Although the tightness was beginning to get painful, I was also very proud of the amazing figure that I now had. So I waited with sending Steve a picture until the very last moment. It showed me with an amazing 18-inch waist! I was in heaven – had it not been for the hell that I experience with every electric shock.

The corset, although very severe, did not change my daily routine. I could still go outside, wearing my 6-inch heels. By now, I had also figured out a pattern in the electric shocks (they were not entirely random afterall!) and knew that I had about 45 minutes several times a day where I could do my errands without collapsing in pain on the sidewalk.

The next several years were rather normal. I receive steel bands for my wrists and upper arms.

In the twelfth year, there was again a change. This time the present was delivered in person by a young girl. I was at first confused, but then she explained. From now on, the presents would have a more significant impact on my ability to live life on my own. If I chose to go forward, I would increasingly become dependent on someone to assist me with my daily requirements. She would be my ‘nanny’.

This was a bit of a shock, although I was wondering how much further Steve could go before I would be unable to even go out and buy basic items that I needed to live. I wondered what the next present would be…

It looked like a steel skirt! But my nanny explained that it was the lower half of my body corset. Once it was attached to my existing corset, it would extend from just above my knees up to my chest. My breasts were still exposed, but I figured that this would soon change as well.

My nanny helped me lock the lower half to the rest of my corset. When she was done, I looked truly amazing. The corset shaped my thighs, and kept them tightly together. And I quickly realized why I was now totally dependent on my new friend. With the corset on, the legs could only move from the knees downward. If it was difficult before to move about in 6-inch heels, I now had my steps limited to no more than perhaps 2-3 inches at a time! Getting out the door and to the grocery store would take forever and with the electric shocks knocking me out at least every 45 minutes, I would starve to death before I every got to a store.

The next four years, my breasts were the object of Steve’s torture. The first two years, I got more rings. These I had to close tightly right around the base. Once they were locked on, my 34DD breasts stood out like balloons! But unlike my collar and the other rings, these locking mechanisms were much more devious. As soon as I heard the familiar ‘click’, sharp pins shot out the inside of the rings, piercing the base of my breasts and pushing deep inside of me. The pain was no so bad, but the permanent nature of this punishment did not get lost on me.

The following two years, it was my nipples turn. I needed my nanny to explain how I was to attach my next presents before I could take a picture. With a devilish smile, she showed me a small steel cone, about 2 inches long. On the inside were hundreds of small needles all pointing in the direction of the narrow opening on top. She then applied a small plastic tube to my left nipple and sucked the nipple as far into it as she could. Then she fed the tube through the wider end of the steel cone and pulled it out the narrow end. With a quick pull, she pulled the tube and my nipple all the way through the cone.

When the suction was broken, my nipple tried to pull back through the cone, but the needles quickly sunk into my nipple and kept it from sliding back. It was a truly devilish device. Like a nipple stretcher, it pulled my nipples out a good two inches, but there was no release. And it was not clear to me how I could ever remove them, short of cutting off my entire nipples. I was not surprised when nanny said that there was no key for my new nipple decoration. They would be permanent.

The last four years, my life descended further into a daily routine of pain and suffering. Four years ago, I lost the use of my arms when they were locked permanently in a reverse prayer position to the back of my steel collar. Three years ago, my tongue was pierced and locked with steel clamps to the base of my teeth. Speech was nearly impossible. Two years ago, I received implants in my ears that eliminated all sounds. And last year, I was fitted with contact lenses that eliminated all sight.

My life nevertheless continued. Nanny even got a specially made wheelchair for me so that she could take me outside. Of course, I was blind, deaf, and could barely utter a sound. Still, smelling the fresh air from time to time and feeling the wind around my face was a nice change from the electric shocks and pain that I now felt constantly.

Yesterday was the 20th anniversary. This time Steve came himself. Of course, I could not tell, but nanny and I had over the years developed a way to communicate through hand touching and signals. It worked quite well. Through nanny, Steve told me what my final present was. Of course, I did have the option of having all my bondage removed and return to normal life. But after so many years, I could not imagine leaving the comforting, though painful, embrace of my various items of torture. Nanny took one last picture of me before Steve told me of my final present. She said I looked beautiful, despite years of torture and pain.

But what nanny told me shocked me nevertheless. Steve’s present would be to end my life in an every increasing cycle of pain. Over the coming 6 days, the electric shocks would become ever stronger and more frequent. The corset would resume its gradual tightening. The collar around my neck would slowly begin to suffocate me. And the steel bands around my ankles, wrists, and arms would slowly crush my bones. And the rings around the base of my breasts would shrink until eventually my breasts would be sliced off my chest.

I could not believe what nanny was telling me. But to make things much worse, I would not even slowly suffer and die in my own home. Instead, Steve would take me to his house in the country and lower me down an old well where I would die all alone. Without food or water, I might not even last 6 days. But if I did, my death would be slow and painful.

Final words by nanny

Steve had me check on Julie for the first couple of days. After three days, she was still breathing, but most of the bones in her body would be crushed by now. Her corset should have contracted to 12-inches, and her rib cage should be shattered. Her breasts looked like they had already begun to decay. I could see bugs feasting on some open wounds. Some of her internal organs have probably burst by now. I felt sorry for her, but she had her chance. Deep inside, I’m sure, she wanted this end. I don’t know when she died, and what caused her death. When I returned to check on her by the fourth day, there was only silence. Now it was time for me to fill the well back up with water.

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