Dare Gone Wrong

By Scrap

*******

“Great,” she thought. “How do I get myself into these things?”

“Come on, Tiffany. We don’t have all night.” Hank’s voice startled her out of her daze. It was his fault she was out here. His goading and button pushing that tricked her into this stupid dare.

What she had to do sounded so simple when he had explained it to her. Five locks with different keys, two toolboxes, some chain, and two jerry-rigged sets of wrist-to-thigh cuffs, and a ‘zip-tie.’ Tape a key to the back of a toilet in the bar near the park, another to the base of a stop sign, a third and fourth to the base of different street lights, and zip-tie the final key to the underside of the slide in the park’s playground. The toolboxes are then chained to a BBQ pit elswhere in the park. Into one box goes a set of clothes, shoes, ID, and some money, and that box is locked with the lock whose key is on the slide. Into the other box goes everything else she has with her, except the remaining locks and rigged cuffs, which she has to put on. The second box is finally locked with the lock whose key is in the bar’s bathroom.

All she had to do was get the keys from the streetlights and stop sign, unlock her hands and the chain, and take the first toolbox to the slide. She then has to unlock the toolbox, put on the clothes inside, go to the bar and retrieve the last key. “Simple,” she thought. At least that was before she was standing here in front of the two locked toolboxes, bound and naked. Tiffany began to think maybe might not be able to finish the dare.

The alternative was not much better: give Hank a blowjob while he was at his desk at work. The blowjob wasn’t that big of a deal. She enjoyed giving head, and didn’t mind the taste. It was Hank. She couldn’t bring herself to want anything to do with him. But she had played Truth or Dare with him, and had accepted the dare.

She couldn’t see any way out, now.

By the time she had gotten everything in place, and was properly locked, it was nearly 10 o’clock. The bar would be crowded, and the park fairly empty. With a final sigh, she set off in search of the keys for her wrist restraints, leaving Hank to ‘guard’ the boxes.

The first was on a streetlight across from a 24-hour minimart. She had never been ashamed of her looks. She was 5’ 4”, and trim. Well proportioned, even with her 34D cup bussom. But she had never been completely naked in clear sight of a busy street before, either.

She stood in the protective cover of the treeline for a few minutes, hoping that the traffic would die down some. When she realized it was only increasing, she stepped out from the cover and walked to the streetlight as if it were the most natural thing in the world, or at least she hoped that was how she looked. She felt like she had a spot light on her and everyone was turning to see her. She did get a few honks from passers-by, and a few people coming out of the minimart stopped to watch, but no one seemed displeased by her display.

She reached the streetlight and froze. The key was gone. She scanned the ground, thinking it had fallen off the post. There was no sign that it had even been there. She stood there, panic freezing her to the spot like a deer in the headlights of a car.

“Now what?” she thought. “Maybe this is the wrong light.” She ran as best she could to the next light, only to find the key was not there either. It was then that she became aware of her nakedness again. She sprinted back under cover, the shouts and honks of passers-by ringing in her ears. Back in the protection of the treeline, she stopped to let her heart stop pounding and to think. “Where did the key go? I know it was here. Did someone else take it thinking it was just discarded?” Suddenly, her skin went cold. “What if someone had found all of the keys she needed? What if they were all gone?”

This sudden thought prompted her to action. She sprinted to the second streetlight, embarrased by the whistles and shouts her naked form elicited, but desparate to get to her next point. The lightpost in question was across from the bar that held her last key, and the line to get in had already started to form. Her face was burning from her shame as she frantically searched for the key that she had placed here. Her search was in vain. This key, too, had disappeared.

She stood there in shock. She couldn’t complete the dare. She needed to unlock both wrists in order to lift the toolbox up enough to unlock it and get her clothes. With both wrists still locked to her sides, she would be lucky to get the box anywhere near the key. That was provided that the third key she needed was still there. She couldn’t get the needed toolbox with her clothes to go anywhere without the third key.

At this thought, her terror sprang up anew, as did her awareness of her situation. She had stood under this streetlight for several minutes naked, bound, and in full view of the ever increasing crowd waiting to get into the the same bar she would have to go into shortly, clothed or not.

She bolted for the stop sign with her third key. Not bothering to stay in the treeline, she ran across clearings, down the street, along jogging paths, whatever the shortest path was. She tried to block out the calls of people she passed. She tried not to feel the heat in her face, or the tears streaming down her cheeks. When the sign came into view, she knew it was too late. The tape was gone, and with it any hope of her getting out of this situation.

Not knowing what else to do, she returned to the toolboxes. Ready to admit defeat to Hank and make arrangements to meet him at work, she was surprised to find only a note taped to the BBQ pit that the toolboxes were missing from.

She took the note down and read it, the terror and embarrasment rising to new heights.

“Tiffany.

If you are reading this, you have already figured out that you are missing a few things you need to finish the dare. What you probably have not figured out is that I have those items. While you were not looking, I took the first three keys you needed. After you left, I grabbed the fourth one, and took the toolboxes. I have left word at the door to let you into the bar. You still have to wait in line and go to the bathroom to get the last key, but at least you can finish. If you don’t want to, then just come in and tell me you would rather suck me off under my desk.

By the way,the bar closes at two o’clock, and if by that time you don’t present me the key or come tell me that you will blow me, then I will go home and leave you here naked and locked up.

Hank”

As she read the note, she realized how well he had trapped her. It didn’t matter if she finished her dare or not, she still had to go wait in line and into the bar like she was right now. That or… or what? Stay here in the park? Get picked up by the police, if they didn’t pick her up while in line? How much more would she be humiliated if she had to call into work to tell them she couldn’t be there, and why?

She began walking, note clutched in a hand numb with shock. She went to the bar. As she stood in line, she tried to ignore the leers and jokes of the other patrons. She tried to keep the people in line between the street and herself, but the other patrons would make sure she was in a little gap by herself, exposed. Her only consolation was that the gap meant no one was close enough to touch her, either.

When it came to her turn in line, the doorman looked her over, a knowing smile on his face. “Go on in,” he said with lusty amusement in his voice. “He’s waiting at the far end of the bar for you.”

As she walked in, the extent of the humiliation Hank had planned became painfully obvious. This was a dance bar, complete with dance floors, lights, and cameras everywhere. Cameras whose pictures were shown on any of what seemed several thousand video screens throughout the bar. She saw Hank almost immediately, and the blood filled her face again. To get to him, she had to either cross the dance floor, or walk in front of a wall of monitors. And the bathroom with her last key was on the other side of Hank.

Still not wanting to admit defeat, nor to give him the added satisfaction of the blowjob, she started across the dance floor. She was halfway across when she realized her folly. The camera operators were all trained on the dance floor, and immediately picked her as the most interesting sight there. She froze as she saw herself displayed on every monitor in the club. Different angles, different effects, but all her. The crowd had parted, so she was in a small clearing, with no place to hide.

Humilited and crying freely, she made her way to the bathroom. Thankfully, her restraints still let her reach the key that was, also thankfully, still in place behind the toilet. She grabbed the key, and, steeling herself from the onslaught of attention, walked back out to where Hank waited with a maniacal grin on his face.

“Here, you son-of-a-bitch,” she hissed as she handed him the final key. “Now unlock me and give me my fucking clothes. I did your dare, even if you cheated. And what the fuck are you grinning about?”

“Now, now, Tiff. No need to be rude. Everything is out in my car. I will let you out in good time. You have done well. I wasn’t sure you could do it. You have one last task before I give let you out, though.” As he said the last, he unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick.

“No!! You can’t make me! I won’t! You said that I didn’t have to…” Her protests died as the reality of her situation sank in. She didn’t have a choice. If she wanted out of this, she had to do whatever he said. He had won.

She slowly went to her knees, her spirit broken, her humiliation complete. She started giving him his prize, tears streaming down her face. Just before he came, he pulled his prick out of her mouth, and spurted his cum all over her face and hair. She was beyond caring.

To the applause and cheers of the entire bar, Hank led Tiffany out the front door, her downcast face still dripping jism.

“Don’t worry, Tiffany. Nothing we do from now on will be this bad on you. At least nothing I have thought of yet.”