Interrogation #1

“I want things done to me that I don’t want done to me,” the beautiful brunette sitting in the examination chair says as the crowd of bystanders hovers in close to watch what is going to happen to her. She’s a petite woman with wavy brown hair. She’s sitting nervously, moving her head back and forth, squirming from the imminent violation of her will.  

“No, no,” she mumbles. 

She’s been accused of murder, and the mob has drug her here to this dingy examination room to question her, to decide her fate in the matter. Is she guilty, or is she innocent? We all want to know. 

The doctor, a beautiful blond who was recently murdered but who refuses to stay dead, takes a seat in front of the accused. The brunette is stammering. 

“No, no, I don’t want this done to me. No. ”  

“Restrain her,” the doctor says in a clear, clinical tone. The doctor may be dead, but she’s not going to let that insignificant fact stop her from conducting this interrogation of her own brutal murder. 

Two men from the crowd step forward to assume the role of orderlies. They strap the woman’s arms to the chair with the attached belts as she continues to protest. 

The doctor is wearing a tight, nearly sheer bodysuit and black pants. Her full breasts drip cleavage from her outfit, but I suppose she has a right to wear what she wants given that she’s just been murdered. The only item that indicates her position is the stethoscope draped around her neck. 

“Put her legs in the stirrups,” the doctor orders, and the two orderlies obey.

“No,” the accused woman protests weakly. “Please, I don’t want this.” But the woman’s husband standing next to me is smiling as he watches what is being done to her. 

The doctor takes her stethoscope from where it’s been resting and puts it in her ears. She assumes a calming tone toward the woman as she runs a hand from the brunette’s knee toward her loins. 

“I’m going to listen to your pussy,” the doctor says with a serious sense of urgency. There are no jokes here. The answer to the woman’s guilt or innocence lies there between her spread thighs. The doctor pulls the crotch of the woman’s lingerie to the side, exposing the folds of her flower to the room. The crowd collectively leans in in anticipation of an answer. The doctor arches forward, the head of her instrument in her hand. She presses the cold metal onto the accused woman’s pussy and listens. A moment passes in silence as each person in the crowd stands breathless, and then the doctor exclaims, “She didn’t do it!”

Interrogation #2

The most renowned healer in the city has been accused of the murder of a man who was embracing his pleasure at an orgy. The healer is believed to be a Zealot from a prudish religious order which has recently infiltrated Temptara. They are attempting to squelch the vibrant and free sensuality that has thrived in this place for thousands of years. 

“Put her in the cage,” a person from the mob yells. Someone opens the metal latch and pushes her inside. The cage, long and low, sits in the center of the space where the crowd collectively seethes. The cage has a padded top, and directly in the center is an erotic hole. 

“I didn’t do it!” The healer screams in frustration as the latch on the cage clicks into place.   

“She’s guilty,” several people caw as they watch the woman’s partly naked form in the cage. 

“You’re all idiots. I’m your healer!” The woman growls from inside the cage, her goddess energy rumbling from deep inside her center. “I’m no Zealot, and I can prove it. Give me cocks to suck! Give me all the fucking cocks,” she yells.

The healer grabs the bars of the cage and sits up, head tilted back with her mouth open to the hole. 

“Would a Zealot suck cock?” She demands to know.  

The mob seems willing to let the accused attempt to prove herself. There is debate as to who should offer up his cock.  A name is put forth,  but the man shies away from the pressure of such a sudden performance.   

Before another name can be suggested, a dominatrix climbs up onto the cage. She bites the back end of a dildo and lowers the phallic instrument down toward the awaiting mouth of the healer.  The caged woman gobbles it up with slurping moans. The mob watches her every move, watching for any glimpse of a Zealot coming forth from her performance. 

“Zealot!” someone shouts. “She’s a Zealot!” Others follow suit. The crowd burns with anger at the woman they perceive as a saboteur. Their ire grows, and the healer is lynched by means of the very dildo with which she attempted to prove her innocence. It is crammed down her throat until she chokes on it, but little does the crowd know that they have just executed an innocent woman. The real killers still roam free. 

Sluts Vs. Zealots – A Sultry Kind of Game 

The two vignette’s above, strange and they may seem, really did happen. Well, everything minus the actual dying. 

Being playful is an aspect of being human that children fully embrace, often to the frustration of the adults around them. As we grow, many of us lose that beautiful part of ourselves as we conform to the expectations of the society around us. 

But I’ve never been very good at conforming, and I’m a very playful person. There’s a game that I loved playing in college. It’s commonly called Mafia. Some call it werewolves. It’s a social role play game that with the right group of people can be immense fun. The rules of the basic game are this: 

1. There is one game narrator and everyone else are the players. 
2. Everyone is anonymously dealt the role of either townsperson, Mafia, Sheriff, or Doctor. 
3. The Mafia try to kill off the townspeople, and the townspeople try to identify the mafia and execute them before they take out the town.  
4. The narrator leads the game through day and night cycles. During the night cycle, the Mafia chooses a victim, the doctor chooses someone to save, and the sheriff can investigate a suspect and get confirmation if the person is Mafia or not. This is done through everyone having their eyes closed and each role only opening their eyes when the narrator calls on them. 

For my birthday, my husband rented a BDSM dungeon space for a small play party. I decided that I wanted us to play an erotic version of Mafia where we could use the kinky space to interrogate the accused. The two vignettes above were my two favorite interrogations from our game. They are great examples of the delightful fun adults can have when they embrace their inner playfulness.

To make the game erotic, I changed the theme to Sluts vs. Zealots and came up with the backstory of the city of Temptara. I made the video below to introduce the game to the party goers. We also modified the rules a bit to add in some other erotic elements. One of the roles of the narrator is to tell the story of each night by saying who got murdered. I had party goers write down one of their fantasies, so I could use that information to describe a hot juicy sex scene that was in progress when each murder happened. 

It was definitely the best game of “Mafia” I have ever played. Everyone enjoyed it, and it was great foreplay to the erotic play that ensued after.