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From The Game, day six.

All that afternoon the sun had been shining but the stiff northerly breeze pegged the temperature back to chilly. We knew it was going to get cold that night. I told Alison I would drive her out to the scene of her final ordeal but to make it worthwhile I thought it ought to be a truly miserable experience. “It will be!” she cried, referring to the physical discomfort of exposing her body to the bracing nocturnal weather, but I thought she deserved the emotional stress of loneliness, to make it especially bleak. “What about that truth the game made you admit?” “What truth?” she said, pretending not to remember.

So I remembered for her. On the first day of the game she’d told it she was scared of being humiliated by being kicked out of a car in the middle of nowhere with nothing but her knickers, and left to cope with it. “We’ll do that.” I said, or 1 hour 18 minutes of it at least. “Oh god!” she said. “Oh yes Princess. Be careful what you wish for!”

I left her going to bed in the early evening so she’d be warm, to start with, and rested, as if she’d be embarking on a real survival expedition! I must confess I giggled all the way home and while driving back to pick her up I’m ashamed to say I felt elated.

When I got there she was up out of bed having set her alarm clock for 11pm, we’d resolved to leave at midnight which was a concession to her safety, but not much of one. We agreed she could take a flask of hot water, a torch and her cooking timer but I denied her the rucksack full of hot water bottles she fought to be allowed. “Oh C’mon, for fuck’s sake!” she cursed but I mercilessly insisted, loving it!

I also insisted she’d leave home stripped. I told her I’d bring her some clothes at the end, after she’d paid her debt and the game was over, but until then she was still playing and subject to the “spirit” of it.

She ran to my car from the door of her house completely naked except for her little white underpants and stood on show in the street lights, hugging her tits while I unlocked it. I thought of making her wait.

For the ten minutes or so it took to get to our chosen field she chewed her fingers and sat shaking, anxiously watching for trouble while we were still in town. Once we’d cleared the houses she relaxed into something of a panic stricken nerve bomb, unable to sit still or think rationally. “Oh god, Oh fuckin’ hell.” she said, several times, in between gasping for breath.

I enjoyed her chest heaving, her naked, pale Celtic skin in the glow of the car’s dashboard lights and the thought of her feeling those knickers as all she owned. She does terror with an exquisite charm!

We pulled off the narrow country lane into the field entrance and I got out to walk round the car and open the passenger door, so I could say “Get out!” I wanted to act her tormentor. Although the wind had dropped there was still a cool draft. Even fully clothed I felt it. Alison stepped out of the car and stood up so I could shut the door, and her out.

The torch had a little metal clip on it so I hooked it in her knickers, set the timer to an hour and then gave it to her. She took the flask in her free hand. “Go on, off you go, I’ll see you in 78 minutes.” I said and checked the time on the car clock.

“What if I die?” she whined, shivering already. I told her I’d think of something poetic for her headstone.

Watching her stumble over the stones and hardened ruts of the tractor tracks, as she set off for that patch of grass we’d found earlier that afternoon was wonderful. I watched her starlit skin and the glow of her little white rabbit tail disappear as she tried to carefully place her soft, bare feet in between the thistles and thorns she couldn’t see. The torch was for emergencies only, the last thing she wanted was to bring attention to herself, it would show up for miles in the dark.

“See ya later!” I called. “I fuckin’ hope so!” she called back from somewhere out there in the gloom. She would be completely alone, unable to race for her clothes if she got spooked because there weren't any. I wouldn't be there to help if she wanted to give up. She had no choice other than to stick it out. I drove away thinking about how vulnerable she must feel and how worried she'd be that despair might overwhelm her.

o0o

On my return we’d agreed that I’d flash my head lights a few times so Alison would know it was me and not some late night dog walker or a poacher or something. I did that and waited, more concerned than I expected to be that she was still OK. I’d brought her some jeans, thick socks and her precious fleece.

She was shivering violently as she limped painfully towards the car, halfway between laughing and crying. “I’m so cold!” she said, letting me hug her. She put her fleece on OK but her hands were so cold she could hardly grip her jeans and pulling them over her frozen legs wasn’t possible. “I can’t feel my feet either.” she complained. I put her in the car anyway, just to take her home and gave her some hot water from the flask. “Didn’t you want it?” I asked because she hadn’t touched it. Apparently by the time she fancied it her hands were numb and she couldn’t get the top off! “I’m numb all over.” she said.

To pass the time she’d guessed how many lengths of her 30 yards strip of grass she could march in five minutes, worked out it was about 12 then set herself that goal, counting down to 12 each time she completed the journey. This chopped the whole ordeal into small challenges, making her happy, sort of, each time she achieved one. Happy enough that is to believe she’d make it to the next.

Sadly, as she became colder, her pace dropped off and the grass wasn’t as easy as she’d thought it would be. There were still bits of brambles in it, or something. “I bet my feet are a mess.” she said but she had no choice other than to keep marching.

She used the torch for a quick look at the timer to check each five minute guess, and to look at her nakedness, wanting to see it.

Marching one way had been bearable but the return had been into a headwind and her tits got so cold they ached. She didn’t think she could have stayed out for much longer. She was slowing down and could no longer fend off the cold. Walking back across the field to the car, into the breeze on torn soles, had been murderous.

I put her socks on for her, over her poor, thorn impregnated feet and found it astonishing how icy cold she was to touch. “I’m so glad it’s over.” she said, through chattering teeth.

Back in her kitchen, once we’d used a couple of mugs of hot chocolate to thaw out her fingers, Alison messaged Max……….

Hello Max,

2.05am. I made it, I'm shattered, I've nothing left but I'm safe.

Ali xx

“I’m going to go to bed now,” she said, “knowing nothing awful is going to happen to me tomorrow. That feels so good!” If you didn’t know, if you met Alison for the first time or were one of her outer circle of acquaintances, you’d think she was completely normal, but she’s not!

At some point Max will write his game and Alison, unable to resist the demons she's cursed with, will just have to play it. She'll HAVE to!

Watch this space!!!!