When I told you my story, I never explained how we played our wonderful Overboard game.

There happens to be a large old oak bench near the back of the Cold Castle Academy chapel. So when we girls decide Overboard is to
be our pastime of the evening, we sneak out of our dorm, and scurry off to the chapel. We close the door behind us. barring it, we do not intend to be disturbed.

Fate decides who will sit, and who will stand. We pass two dice amongst ourselves, each takes turns to roll, the two little ivory cubes tumbling and skittering across the flagstone floor, their black spots glinting in the candlelight.

Whispers. Sweaty palms. Thudding

The bench seats five, but only four will be seated – assigned to those who roll the four lowest scores. The suspense builds as we learn our roles. Those rolling the four highest scores will be their partners.

If its sitters were to take their seats in the regular way, the long wooden bench could comfortably accommodate six. But when playing Overboard, those chosen do not sit on the flat plank of the bench, but on four of the five elegantly carved curved dividers that separate it into seats. By convention, the central divider is left unoccupied.

As befits this ceremonial space, our game proceeds ritualistically, adding to the excitement
of it all. Those who have been chosen to sit must remove their undergarments, before being led by the hand by their assigned partner to the bench.

Each sitter then steps up and onto the bench, straddling the divider, and then bending at the knees to sit down, until her thighs lie either side of it.

The curve is perfectly carved for the female anatomy, a short flat section enough to take the sitter’s weight, which rests against her perineum. Whilst the curve ascends upwards behind her, running between her buttocks. And in front of her mound, is a gently curving rise, circular in section, perfectly shaped to part her lips and press against her mound. It won’t be long until she feels the thin wood intruding between her slit. 

Once seated, the sitter’s nightgown will be lifted, and a quick inspection performed by her partner to ensure she’s properly positioned on the divider’s edge. Then her nightgown is allowed to fall, concealing, for now, her wet swollen lips.

Now the next sitter takes her place, until all four are seated with the wood comfortably between their cheeks, pressing just where it should. It is
nothing orgasmic but the sensation is pleasant.

The sitters are then directed to reach behind their shoulders to grasp the backboard through adjacent triangular gaps. Once their hands pass through the gaps in the frame, they are tied up with their own discarded panties. This is achieved by passing their wrists through one leg-hole of their underwear, then passing the other half of the garment between the wrists twice, and then passing both hands through the other leg-hole. This will keep each girl in position and helpless, completely at the mercy of her partner’s devious mind.

Soon, each sitter is perching on their division, their bare toes dangling just above the cold stone floor, so their own weight presses their slits onto the protrusion they straddle. Yet they can not relieve the pressure by planting their feet on the floor, should even just a toe make contact, the sitter will forfeit the game immediately.

Only when all four girls are tied up, does our game begin in earnest.

Their four partners take it in turns to play, the one with the highest score commences, facing the girl who rolled the lowest. Each partner has 3 minutes, measured by the sands of a procured kitchen egg-timer, to tempt and titillate her seated companion. She might tell a short wicked
story, or stroke her sitter’s naked flesh (but not her slit), or perform an erotic act on herself. Whatever she can do to arouse the seated girl most.

Now, after all these nights of mischief, we’ve come to know our bed-sisters so intimately. We know what turns each other on, what their fantasies are, how to get our friends the most excited.

But when the sands of time have run out, the partner’s little performance must end. Her last act is to ceremoniously lift her sitter’s nighty, revealing just how excited she’s managed to make her.

Why? Well, this is why we call the game Overboard. Quite literally. If the sitter drips her juices down the dividing board that parts her cunny and onto the bench below, her partner wins. And the sitter must pay a
forfeit to the one who made her drip. If not, she stays in the game for another round.

Once the first partner’s time is up, it is the turn of the one beside her. We continue until all four partners have teased their sitters. Then we play a second 3-minute round for any yet to drip. If a sitter survives two rounds of teasing, she is untied and released.

But for those who do drip overboard, a forfeit must be paid.

Some forfeits are paid immediately, whilst the loser is still tied to the bench.

Recently, a losing girl was tickled mercilessly, with her wrists still bound above her head, she was powerless to resist her partner’s devilish roving fingers. Some of the other girls had to hold her ankles to restrain her frantic kicking. She was tickled so hard that she lost control of her bladder, warm pee spurting from between her legs, soaking her nighty and splattering against the divider in front of her, and splashing both her tickling assailant and those who were holding her legs.

How we all laughed! Such japes!

Public spankings are popular too, the sitter having her wrists untied so she can be bent over across the bench. Legs apart of course, we always like to see how wet the losing girls become, and to see the little pink stripe the divider leaves against her swollen slit.

A very devious choice to position a loser atop the thigh of a poor contestant who must try
even harder not to let herself drip, as she watches a girl having her bottom smacked pink just beneath her nose. Their combined weight only increasing the pressure of the divider against her own slit.

Sometimes forfeits are deferred until the next day, or later in the week. One received a very loud bottom smacking across the banister of the
grand staircase drawing the rapt attention of several other dormitories.

Another popular forfeit site is the elliptic knob at the corner where two banisters meet on the 2nd floor landing of the eastern staircase. Many have been sent there without their underwear, to hoist themselves onto the banister rail, and then up again atop the knob.

And there they must sit, sinking further onto the phallic knob, until they are completed penetrated, earnestly hoping that a member of staff won’t walk past, and demand they get off the stair rail this very minute. To dismount with a squelch, and have their lewd secret discovered would be beyond humiliating.

If the girl has a bush, it has been known for the forfeit to require her to shave her mound and slit bare, then spend the following day without panties. The winner would, of course, relish her right to lift the loser’s skirt at regular intervals throughout the day, to inspect the effect of cool air on freshly sensitised skin.

Another had to bend over and submerge her head in a bathroom basin filled with water, whilst her partner lifted her skirt, lowered her panties. She then had to hold her breath as the winner licked and suckled her slit, as her lungs screamed even
more desperately for air. Until she erupted from beneath the water, gasping. Before having her head dunked beneath again.

Another had her bottom hole used as a candle holder, and spent an evening bent over by the victor’s desk, illuminating her pages as she did her homework, as hot wax dripped and congealed between her cheeks.

A particularly memorable recent invention has come to be known as the Aladdin Forfeit. The winner granted herself 3 Wishes, the one who lost became her lamp. On the winner’s command, her lamp had to rub her clit until she came, no matter where she was when the wish was made. How we giggled when the wish was delivered to the lamp as a folded up note, and she had to secretly masturbate to a muffled climax whilst teacher’s back was turned to the class.

Our game is full of unknowns. On some
nights, no one breaks and there are disappointed sighs as the four are untied and dismount,
and we all return to our dormitory aching and unsatisfied.

Yet on other evenings, all four might fold, each dribbling a sticky slick onto the seat below. It grows harder to resist in each successive game, knowing the exciting possibilities of winning – and the shameful privations of losing.

Who knows what your bed-sisters devious minds will imagine.

And who knows if you’ll be sitting on the edge tonight…