Female Body Part Party Game

The men milled about nervously on stage, all in their tuxedos, most sipping mixed drinks served by the ever-attentive, extremely attractive, and nearly totally nude serving girls. The servers--blondes, brunettes, and redheads--were wearing absolutely nothing but gold body jewelry.

In reverse order of point of interest, they had on:

--A gold anklet with a teardrop-shaped gold nugget attached;

--A similar gold chain and nugget combo snuggly fitted around a thigh, just under a buttock cheek;

--A gold nugget on a three-inch gold chain dangling from a gold-clamped nipple; and

--Two appropriately-sized mini-nuggets dangling from clamps rather rudely attached to each labia minora.

To say that these lovely servers were a penile-throbbing sight to behold would be vastly understating their naked charms.

The tuxedoed men were all suitably impressed--but they were also getting incensed. It was exactly 1 a.m. on New Year's Day that all twenty-five partying power couples were escorted to the luxury resort's theater for a "special surprise."

"Escorted..." that was a word in contention. The men and their rather scantily-dressed wives, girlfriends or mistresses were pushed along by Matthew Gold's security team as if the ballroom was being evacuated from a bomb threat. The men noted that many of their women were roughly handled, with meaty hands grabbing rear cheeks that were admittedly easily accessible under scandalously short and/or diaphanous little numbers that resembled nothing more than "fuck me" nighties that should've only been seen in a boudoir.

Arriving in the theater, all were expecting a show. The place was empty. Everyone was escorted on stage but the women were "invited" to proceed backstage to get ready for a "special surprise."

That's when it got bad.

Ladies who were reluctant to leave their men had strong, firmly muscled arms placed around their waists and shoulders. Despite the security guard's soothing voices, something was going on. Many of the men saw their lady's minuscule shoulder straps pulled down as they departed; some saw zippers unzipped, buttons undone and what passed for skirts shamelessly lifted.

These men were the most powerful men in charge of the billionaire's multitude of multi-corporations. Many of them were already calculating how best to inflict damage on their reclusive, controversial boss--if his goons did any damage to their trophy wives or their equally expensive fuck toys. Many of them knew where certain bodies were buried--some literally.

Many of them though were also rather fondly remembering the after party following the annual strategic planning meeting in this same resort. Drinks flowed as freely as the clothing gradually coming off of Matthew Gold's "pleasure girls." At midnight, each beauty's covering had been reduced to a gold foil condom wrapper--dangling from a chain on a belly chain, exactly over each vulva's midpoint.

Each wrapper had a number stamped on. Each man had a number on his visitor pass. Once each man found his specially chosen girl-toy, they had one hour to enjoy it as they pleased--provided that the curvy, fleshy merchandise was returned unharmed.

No one damaged Matthew Gold's property...

Gold's pleasure girls were an open secret. They only appeared in his properties where in-house prostitution was legal--or ignored.

Gold's pleasure girls ranged from the brightest college coeds to the sultriest housewives. They all collectively shrugged and said: 'men always get away with playing with our bodies for free... why not collect a Gold paycheck?'

"Gentlemen!" His voice--but from where?

Everyone whirled around. The man himself was standing there, long silver hair probably dyed, halfway up the center aisle, surrounded by a phalanx of his ever-present, sunglass-wearing security team.

Gold spoke into a wireless mic.

"First off: thank you all for all of your hard work! This--" he made a grand, sweeping gesture "is your well-earned reward.

Second: all of your ladies are being well-taken care off. You will see them--every beautiful part of them--very soon.

Third:" he wagged a finger, "some of you gentlemen need to train your little ladies better! I mean... they were already half-naked; we simply asked them very politely to completely undress. Well! Some girls resisted so strongly that my men had to take matters into their own capable hands. Rest assured: no merchandise was damaged--and that includes the lovelies themselves as well as those ridiculous pieces of fabric they called 'clothing.'"

The men were looking at other. Some of their women had been forcibly stripped? Many were getting angry, others were licking their lips--not just their wives, but maybe their colleague's or their rival's girlfriends had just had their little panties ripped off?

"This is a contest with a million dollar prize: a million dollars in gold. We have no time to consider our more genteel ladies' sensibilities. Yes: you heard correctly: if any of you can identify all of your special lady's special parts--as they are placed on display--you each win one million. If only one of you is leading at the end, he gets the million. Ties? We have a very enjoyable way of breaking ties that necessitates getting up close and personal with certain very personal lady parts.

Servers: walk those hot bodies over to the table: stage right. No, not that way! There you go. Each gentleman has a little leather sack with his number on it--the last three numbers of his special visitors pass.

I'll wait as you pass them out. Okay? Look inside: there are four items or sets of body jewelry. Each has your number on the nugget. There's a removable tag with "L", "A", "B" and "P" attached. The tag shows you where to go, and "L" is for "Legs."

When the curtain comes up, check out those twenty-five sets of lovely legs as quickly as possible--you'll have five minutes. Once you think you've found your own dear lady, attach the "L" anklet to either ankle. Each lady has two ankles so one other gentleman is allowed to also make that same guess.

One million in gold is on the line. Once the curtain fully rises, bright lights will illuminate each body part.

Ready? Let's go!"

The curtain rose quickly and the bright lights came on. Everyone's breath was taken away by the sight of fifty very feminine and very barefoot legs.

Everything was happening so quickly, but that's how Gold rolled. He took over an app that let its 11.2k users make friends with personalized A.I.s--and turned it into a new-concept, A.I.-driven, social media monster. Even his detractors admitted that he had "out-Musked Elon."

The men were somewhat taken aback--each pair of ankles already had thick gold anklets attached to each other by an eighteen inch chain.

As if reading minds: "Don't worry about the 'leg irons!' After such a struggle just to get their silly clothes off, we decided to try to restrict your little ladies' movements. With one million dollars at stake, we can't have these naked sweeties wandering around taking potty breaks!"

Many of men were still visibly angry--the loves of their lives had just been forcibly stripped nude--and were now hobbled in ankle chains? Still, one million in gold was pretty sweet...

There were two types of leg-lookers. Type one was methodical, hands on chins. Type two moved fast up and down the long-limbed line, scanning.

The scanners noticed something: the women were undoubtedly of different heights, yet the curtains revealed the same delightful portions of skin. They theorized that the ladies were in height order--or more specifically, pussy bottom to floor order--and that the curtains were actually a series of adjustable fabric panels.

Many of the scanners were also fast deciders. The anklets were fairly easy to snap on. As they made their choices, some patted little feet and said "Sure hope that's you baby!"

The method men tended to be men who were in love with the female leg. Why so much love?

1) Women freely displayed legs in public; and:

2) At the juncture of the legs lies the Gates of Heaven.

Gold called out "one minute," he recommended any undecideds simply throw their anklets near a foot... any foot. "My men will attach them properly." Better to have a four percent chance than zero.

The lights dimmed, the curtain fell. Many of the men were still stunned at the sudden turn of events. They soon discovered that their naked servers were very bright young ladies who were very welcoming of all-over touches. Oh well: anything to bring these distraught hubbies comfort!

"While we're waiting for Part Two--you guessed it--A is for Asses--we did find a surprising number of bottom-end tattoos. We had an expert body makeup artist cover them up--but then we also put a fake tattoo in the same place on every other ass--and covered that with makeup too! See: it takes about as long to get nude women presentable as the ones who take so long to get their fucking clothes on!"

Now the curtains seemed to split... it was a clever effect. On stage, the men could see a curtain rising up from a slot in the floor, pulled up by nearly invisible threads. The other curtain was rising normally. When they both stopped, the lights came on--and twenty-five bare asses or fifty ass cheeks were boldly on brilliant display. The bottom curtain was so right up against each bare bottom it was as if the girls were seated naked on the curtain.

Now most of the gentlemen were shaking their heads. They truly loved their lady's buttocks--but clearly not enough to pick them out of twenty-five pairs.

Some bolder men stepped right up and boldly fastened the thigh bracelet as close to her cheekiness as possible. Many slapped that ass, saying "Sure hope that's you, sweet cheeks!"

The curtains fell and some of the gentlemen were warming their hands, anticipating B for breasts; others were keeping their hands warm between the thighs of their helpful serving girls.

The gentlemen were now caught up in this damnably erotic game. They held their breath as the curtains parted again. Pink tips, red tips, and brown ones of all sizes and lengths were the first to catch the light. Then: breasts; holy breasts! Fifty individual breasts!

As with the butt show, these titties seemed to be deliberately thrust out over the bottom curtain. There was a collective sigh at the glorious sight, both a release of tension and an acceptance of such nude beauties. Yes: every female guest, from one's own sweet wife to one's colleague's girlfriend, was now baring her breasts for all to see.

The scanners were immediately and literally sizing things up. The more experienced engineers and math wizards saw a range of about 30A to 38D. Trophy wives and mistresses were selected to be athletically slender or eye catchingly curvy.

Gold spoke up, somewhat softly. "The female breast, the tit, the boob. You have less than three minutes now, but enjoy the sight! If you need to, feel and suck and bite as many of the fifty nipples as you can."

It wasn't clear if the gentlemen were paying attention. There were a lot of quick, bold choices. As many rushed in to clamp on to a nipple, they did find some too soft, not elongated enough. Most found that judicious pinching did the trick. There would be a "Mmmpphhh!" sound of shock from the reluctantly nude presenter, which simply meant that the clamp was on securely.

Time called by the lights dimming and curtains coming back together. Most of the men now had tuxes undone, jackets and ties off. Some were obviously in a state of high arousal as they held on to their favorite nude server, handling her body with a newfound urgency.

"We know what "P" stands for. The ladies are being prepared. Think of them all: stripped naked and roughly pushed into position by my experienced men for your viewing pleasure. They're breathing raggedly, their pretty legs trembling, as they reluctantly look down and contemplate the final item to be displayed."

There was an almost primal hiss as the curtains opened one last time over the anticipated target--twenty-five pussies displayed from cunts to clits, from dangling inner lips that were literally brushing the curtains to where the last curly hair nearest the belly should have been.

Yes: all were shaved--some obviously just recently shaved from all the redness--shaved completely hairless.

The men were beside themselves now. Their women had been forcibly denuded of every pubic hair. It was a horrible, intimate violation... and yet the men who were most upset at their lady's ordeal found themselves ragingly hard.

Previously kind and kindly gentlemen were in a frenzy now. Hoods were pulled back, clitorises were pulled out, outer and inner lips tugged aside and vaginas fingered.

The naked ladies were mostly sobbing as most of them were dry down below. If any that were dry pulled back, a loud smack was heard from the poorly-lit area behind the curtain, and their mound was thrust out again.

Out of twenty-five, there were a few ladies who were moaning along with their sobs; all strangely muffled as if their faces were smushed into the curtains. These naughtily wet ladies were instinctively sought out for briefly thrusting fingers and overeager tongues.

At least three girls came from all of the unwanted attention, and they came hard. Even though these were all legitimate and well-deserved orgasms, their sweet asses were still soundly smacked if they dared to pull their sodden and swollen genitals away from the curtain.

At the one minute warning there were worse indignities. Now all of the men--some of them sobbing as well--were tugging out and playing rough with the poor lady's labia.

Most were successful: they dug in despite the muffled cries; they stood back and actually admired their unholy handiwork--a woman they loved--or a stranger--had gold nuggets dangling from her hitherto private nether lips.

Unexpectedly, the curtains began to open in unison. Men who had failed in clamping a pussy were collapsed on the floor, but some had their heads buried between the thighs of their favorite nude and comforting server.

The curtains were gone and there were cries and shouts. The naked women were facing out in a semicircle. From top to bottom, they were: blindfolded, gagged, handcuffed and hobbled.

The gentlemen rushed in as one to comfort their poor, mistreated ladies. Blindfolds and gags were ripped off and out. Some of the still cuffed and hobbled nudes collapsed in their men's arms, others used their bodies to push them away.

The men were pushed aside anyway as Gold's men counted up the correctly-placed body jewelry. It was easy, as that three-digit number was inscribed, black on gold, on all of the jewelry as well as on each girl's restraints.

The winners were announced by Gold as a Mr. Warren and a Mr. Yamamoto. Both men were four for four. Ordinarily there would have been a tiebreaker: each naked lady would be lowered onto each of the men's penises while all were blindfolded. The men would then try to identify their own blushing bride by how they felt while being fucked.

Unfortunately, Gale Warren was a voluptuous, curvy number whose stats started out at 38D. Lin Yamamoto was a tiny little thing who could have been scooped up and carried to bed in one hand. The bodily differences were declared as too obvious.

Then Matthew Gold was suddenly striding through their midst. As he spoke, nonchalantly strolling, he nonchalantly did some manhandling. Mouths were forcibly kissed, nipples were tweaked and bit, and his probing fingers found their way into one or both floor-facing holes.

"What a show! The best party game ever! And you will all get to see a specially-edited version focusing on each of your actions this morning should you ever betray me. Said film will sadly also find its way to some decadent websites.

Take each of your sweaty, dripping bitches up to your rooms and fuck them hard as they are now. The service elevator awaits--mustn't shock our other guests! We will be watching you of course. Pull out at the end--we need to see proof of cum. Only upon completion will the keys to your dear one's restraints be slipped under your doors."

Matthew Gold smacked the bare asses of two naked women within reach. "Have a lovely rest of the evening; and of course: Happy New Year!"