Dice Game story

This is a fictional story but it's based on truth. Phil and I exist, we've done many sessions and as most of you know we've played this dice game many times over now. As I wrote this story I was rolling a dice in real time and stayed true to whatever I rolled, no matter if I disliked the roll - just as we would in person if it was happening for real. Which makes the ending all the more better. It goes to show you never know what luck you might have with the dice.

You'll also find video previews for the existing dice games at the bottom of this post, if you wish to see them.

This story is intense... an '11/10 intensity' story. If you don't like brutal trampling action, or verbal humiliation (faggot, etc.) this story is not for you.

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I sent Phil a message.

"We've got another pig wanting to play the dice game.." I type, laughing to myself. "This time it's a newbie but he's talking a big game. You in?" I get a response within minutes. "Let's fucking have it." He's always up for a good trample session. 

By now we had done several dice games, with several different faggots, all gagging for some rough treatment under our soles. They all like the unpredictability of the dice and not knowing what punishment they're going to get at any minute. The date and time for the session is set, and before we know it, we're walking up the slave's street to his house. "Tell me about this one, you met him before?" Phil asks. "No, never met him but I know he's taken a bit of trampling in the past. We've had a lot of messages back and forth online, he's told me what he likes and has suggested things he would enjoy for each dice roll, but I haven't given him the satisfaction of knowing what I've chosen. A bit of suspense is what a faggot needs sometimes, don't you think?" Phil laughs, agreeing. "He's seen a few of the videos so knows how it all works. I think we're in for a fun game this one". We make eye contact and smirk. There's a look in Phil's eye and I know he's going to push the boundaries today with this fag. 

We knock on the door loudly, and he opens the door within seconds, clearly eager to meet and get under us. First impressions of him: he's tall, taller than us. An older guy maybe in his 50s, lanky and thin but looks fairly strong. By strong I mean, will tolerate a bit of abuse under our weight. I imagine his body frame being good to stomp and jump all over.  His eyes dart nervously between us two, looking us up and down and checking out the boots we are wearing. We had agreed to wear our tan Oliver tradie boots, Phil's much more worn and dirtier than mine, but equally powerful. We're both in fitted t-shirts and shorts, long white socks pulled up slightly over the top of our boots so you can just see them. I can tell he is impressed by what he sees, and Phil beats me to it. "Alright faggot stop your drooling, show us where this is all going to happen.." he says, as he barges in, pushing the loser back into the house. We follow him down the hallway, our boots clomping noisily on the wooden floor. We get to the living room and he's already made space for the game on the floor. There is nothing but empty space on the floor and a chair with a small table. 

"I bet you're dying to know what actions I've chosen for the game.." I tease, pulling a sheet of paper from my pocket with the list. "Get on your fucking knees and kiss these boots while I read out your potential fate." He drops to his knees and starts kissing our boots, alternating between all four boots and showering them with loud kisses. Phil lifts up his right boot and plants it on his back, holding him in place while he's kissing my boots. "You know how this works, we'll roll the dice each turn and do whatever action corresponds to the number rolled. And if we roll a double, that means we can choose any action from the list."

"Roll a 2.. 3 hard jumps off chair, anywhere on the body.

Roll a 3.. 30 seconds full weight on the head, jumping.

Roll a 4.. 30 seconds standing full weight directly on the face. 

Roll a 5.. 30 seconds marching anywhere on the body - both Masters.

Roll a 6.. 5 jumps on the stomach.

Roll a 7.. 5 jumps on the chest.

Roll a 8.. 30 seconds licking the boot soles - both Masters.

Roll a 9.. 30 seconds bouncing on the body - both Masters.

Roll a 10.. 5 big whiffs of amyl and any action of the Master's choice.

Roll a 11.. 30 seconds trampling - both Masters, piggyback style. 

Roll a 12.. 3 hard jumps on the crotch."

I get to the end of the list and Phil starts laughing. "Fucking hell, he's really in for it today. I don't know which is my favourite. I always want the chair jumps but I want to mash his fucking pathetic face under these boots too." I give the dice to Phil. "You can do the honours". He grabs them and rolls them on the nearby table. "9.. 30 seconds bouncing on the body - both Masters!" he says, laughing. 

"Alright then get on the floor, fast" I bark, pushing him away with my boot. "The game starts now". He tumbles back onto the hard wooden floor. I smirk knowing he's forgotten to put something down to lay on. "Take your clothes off faggot. I want to see the marks these boots are going to make on you." He follows my orders and then looks up at me from the floor. "Sir, may I have a pillow for my head?" Without any hesitation Phil stomps up onto his bare chest. "Absolutely not you piece of shit" he laughs, as I step up onto his dick and thighs. "Should have thought about that before we started, too late now." We start bouncing hard on him, all four boots covering a good portion of his body. Phil on his chest and stomach, me on his crotch and thighs. He starts to groan underneath us as we bounce. With both of us laughing, we start to increase the intensity of our bounces.. doing it in sync to maximise the noise he makes. "Come on, last ten seconds... take it you faggot!" Phil says gleefully. Eventually the 30 seconds ends and he breathes a sigh of relief as we step off him. 

"That was a good one. My turn to roll", I say as I grab the dice and throw them back down on the table. "7.. 5 jumps on the chest!" I step up onto his chest so that my toes are under his chin, facing upwards. I look down and he is looking up at me with a look of fear and admiration. "Thank you Sir", he says without me even prompting him. "Thank you for what fag?" I reply. "Thank you for rolling a 7 so you can jump on my chest, Sir". I laugh, and take my first jump. I bend down and get as much air as I can before landing back down on his chest hard. "One", Phil counts as he's laughing and watching. I jump again, higher this time and land down in the same spot. "Two. Come on go fucking harder he's not making any noise!" Phil is right. This faggot is taking the jumps quite well. I decide to end it with something a little unexpected. The final three jumps I do in quick succession, angling my boots differently with each jump, so he doesn't quite know where they will land on his chest. "Three, four, five! Fuck those ribs yeah" Phil laughs again. We high five as I step off him and Phil goes to grab the dice once more, eager for his next turn. 

"7! 5 jumps on the chest again.." he pisses himself laughing. "Oh well, my turn faggot.. Let's see if I can make you squeal louder like the fucking pig you are."

He runs up and launches into the air, landing on the slave's chest. "That's one", he laughs. "Here we go..." he warns as he jumps up and lands again hard, his boots sideways on the chest. "Two!". He steps off and turns around, crouching down low and springing up, trying to gain maximum air before landing again. He loses his balance on the land and stumbles off, laughing. "That was his fault you know, for not being more of a stable landing platform for you" I say, kicking the slave hard on his thigh. "Yeah that's right, these last two jumps I want you to stay fucking still" Phil orders. He jumps two more times and lands noisily both times. Phil is pleased and before he gets off he looks down at the doormat. "What do you say?" "Thank you Sir." 

He reluctantly hops off the doormat as I reach for the dice to roll the next turn. "I want the face standing one... " I laugh. I roll the dice and the slave holds his breath in anticipation. "5... 30 seconds marching anywhere on the body, both Masters" I say, to Phil's delight. 

He rubs his hands together and steps straight up onto the slave's dick, followed closely be me stepping one foot onto his chest, and with my other foot pushing his head to the side and planting my boot right over the side of his head. I lean on this leg on purpose, putting more weight onto his head knowing the boot treads are digging into his cheeks. I look over at Phil and smirk, "It does say anywhere on the body..." He laughs, "exactly, why do you think I'm standing on his tiny little faggot dick" we both laugh and look at the timer. "Let's go.." We both lift our boots and without hesitation start marching brutally, a steady rhythm of stomps landing in the same spot over and over on his body. Phil has both boots over the faggot's crotch, one of them consistently landing on the dick and smashing it underneath, the other one landing more often on the thighs. Whatever hard on the slave had is starting to shrink as the pain takes over and his junk gets mashed. Every now and then he yelps as the stomp hits his balls at a painful angle, but he can't dwell on it for longer than a second as my boot stomps down hard on his head. We don't pay any attention to the noise he makes as it's coming from under my boot and is muffled by the sounds of the stomps. I get satisfaction from the thud my boot makes as it stomps down on his head, knowing it will hurt. I make sure as I'm marching to put more emphasis on the stomp to his head and as a result his cheek becomes quite red. I look down for a brief moment and smirk. His face might be red raw by the end of this session if we're lucky. "And 27, 28, 29... 29... 29...." Phil teases as he counts the 30 seconds, dragging it out as long as he likes while we continue stomping. "30!" We both step off and he immediately lunges at the dice for another roll. The game is in full swing now.

He rolls them fast. "11! What is that..." he reads from the list. "Oh fuck, 30 seconds trampling, both masters in piggyback style. We haven't done this one before, let's fucking have it." He grins. "How do you want to do it? You wanna go on my shoulders or the other way around?" I ask him. He thinks for a second, "I'll go on your shoulders this time."

We walk over to the wall and he gets up on a chair. Crouching down, I brace for his 90kg on my shoulders. Once he's in position, I stand up slowly, checking the ceiling height. A little wobbly on my feet but he can reach the ceiling to brace our balance which helps. I slowly walk over to the doormat and he's looking wide eyed up at the 180kg about to crush him. “Go!” shouts Phil. I step up onto the slave, one boot chest and one boot stomach. He groans loudly at the heavy pressure coming down on him through only two boots. “Take it, take it you faggot!” Phil laughs. I’m concentrating on my balance and begin to trample, unable to look down at where my boots are landing. Phil realises I can’t see down easily and starts guiding me where to trample. “More to the right, hit his fucking head again” he laughs. I lift my right boot and step where I think his head is. The slave realises what is happening just in time and turns his head to the other side, narrowly avoiding a crushed nose. I transfer all my weight to that boot on his head and crush his skull underneath. The groaning is louder now and it only spurs Phil on more. “Fuck yeah, twist.. crush his fucking ear” he laughs as I twist my boot, wondering if his ear will make it through in one piece. “He’ll be fucking see stars with this amount of weight on him” I say, laughing. I hold onto Phil's thighs around my neck, as I shift back down his body, marching again like the previous roll but this time double the weight and pain. I know I'll hit his dick and balls when I hear the yelp.. and sure enough. Phil read my mind and laughs out loud when the slave writhes in pain underneath us. "Bullseye baby!" he laughs. I line up my boots side by side for the last few seconds over his crotch. It's a tender spot after Phil's previous abuse and I smile as I trample them hard, the dick and balls cruelly twisting under my careless trampling. The slave comes close to fainting with the pain and is only saved by me stepping back off him. He breathes heavily and curls up into a ball in pain. I awkwardly get Phil off my shoulders, "fuck you were heavy.. looking forward to returning the favour" I smirk as he rolls his eyes.

It's my turn to roll again and I waste no time grabbing them and throwing them on the table. "6! A nice easy one for you faggot after that brutal 11... 5 jumps on your stomach." 

I quickly step up onto his stomach and the push the air out of him, lining up my big boots side my side. Even though he is a tall guy, the boots are too big for the area and spill over to his ribs and crotch a little. I look down and he's looking up at me, the spark in his eyes has gone now and I can tell he's getting tired. Good, I think to myself. I crouch down and jump up as high as I can, landing hard back in the same position. He lets out a loud groan and Phil starts to clap his hands. "Good, but you can do fucking better than that.." he says, spurring me on. I jump again, high and this time keeping my legs bent and coming down harder, pushing up as I land for maximum force. The slave groans even louder this time which makes us both laugh. "See, goooood.. fucking make that faggot take it!" Phil laughs. I repeat the same process for the last 3 jumps, with each jump weakening his stomach muscles so I land deeper and harder. After five satisfying groans from the slave I get off and step back for Phil's next turn.

"Come on I want to see one of these harder ones. We haven't had any doubles yet. I want to see a 4, a 10 or a double" I heckle Phil as he rolls the dice. "3 and a 1... 4!" We burst out laughing, "30 seconds standing full weight on the face!"

He stomps up onto the chest and looks down at him, smirking. "Well well well, you dumb little faggot. Look what the dice has chosen for you. I'm about to rearrange your face.. but first here's some lubricant." He spits down onto the slave's face, some of it landing in his eye. Before he even has the chance to wipe it away, he sees through his blurred vision Phil's left boot lifting and coming down.. connecting roughly with the side of his face. It easily covers half his face. As Phil steadies himself for balance, the slave sees the other boot lift and come down with a thud on the other side of his face. He can't see anything, his vision gone dark but he can certainly feel the harsh soles bearing down on his face. He winces under the pressure. "Yeah fucking nice work" I say to Phil, "it's not easy standing directly on the face." He looks over at me and smirks, bringing his hands up over his shoulders and posing like a champion. "Damn your balance is getting better every session man" I praise him. "These boots are giving me some good grip on his skin, I can feel them pulling a little.. I hope they leave some nice boot prints on him.." he says, turning and looking down at the slave knowing he can hear every word. "Nice prints so everyone can see he's fucking owned by Master Phil huh." He pauses, "What do you think about that faggot? Speak up, I can't hear you..." He starts to laugh as the slave is mumbling, trying to get the words out but can't. That's the reality when you have 90kg standing full weight on your head, the scraped and worn soles forcing your lips and mouth shut under the weight and pressure. 

While Phil is still on his face, I grab the dice and decide to roll early. "Let's just see what I get.." I laugh. "You won't fucking believe it.. another 4!" I piss myself laughing. I walk over to Phil and he steps off his face. The slave's eyes show relief for a second, his face plastered with deep boot prints either side of his cheeks. "Don't get comfortable now faggot" I smirk, as I step up onto his chest and quickly stand both feet on his face once more in a similar position. "Let's make these tread marks even deeper yeah?" My treads are not as worn and he can feel the sensation of the harsher, sharper treads digging into his face. He lets out a whimper but we don't hear it as I'm ignoring him chatting with Phil. We talk about our amazement at guys like this one wanting this sort of treatment. "Can you imagine a fucking full grown man standing full weight on your face? His face must be burning under the heaviness." Phil nods. "He'll be seeing stars that's for sure." Eventuallly he reaches for the dice and takes another roll. I step back off the slave and look down at my work. His face is red and purple, my boot treads starting to fade a little yet I can still see Phil's marks from before. I spit down onto his face and rub my boot in it. He winces at the pain but does not try to stop me. "Good little faggot, stick that fucking tongue out." I wipe both boots roughly over his tongue, scraping his nose in the process. 

"Fucking hell.. it's another 4! This is some serious punishment for his ugly face," Phil laughs. I step off the slave's chest and step to the side of his shoulder. "I don't know, I think we're improving his look actually. He looks better than before with all those powerful boot marks etched into his skin!" 

Phil walks over and looks down curiously at his face. "Let's do this one a bit different, I'm gonna stand sideways on his face.. like this." He lifts his right boot and drops it down onto the slave's forehead, the toe end hanging off the right hand side of the slave's head. Holding onto my shoulder with one hand, and the wall with the other, he steps up and plants his left boot on the slave's mouth. This position feels a little more stable, but it does look a little ridiculous seeing the boots so much longer than the width of the slave's head. "You know you could knock out those front teeth of his with one swift stomp" I say, smirking at Phil. The slave groans in discomfort at the thought. "Yeah, fag?" Phil says. "Did you just say that is what you want?" he laughs, mocking. The slave mumbles louder, trying to speak but it's impossible with the huge boot over his mouth crushing it shut. "If you don't want me to kick these teeth in tell me now, otherwise I will do it.." Phil warns, winking at me knowing full well he can't say no, or say anything at all. More frantic mumbling from below. "Doesn't sound like a no to me," and he lifts the boot up quickly off the mouth, high up out of reach from the slave. "No, no! No please no.." he says frantically, while gasping for air and his hands flailing about. His vision is partially blocked by the huge boot on his forehead so he can't quite see where the other boot is exactly to stop it. Phil lets out a sadistic laugh at the slave's predicament. "Alright, your teeth are safe for now but it's a shame I can't say the same for your forehead." He lets his right boot slide down the slave's forehead, letting gravity pull the boot and all his weight to the floor, scraping the skin hard as it slowly drifts to the floor. The slave's hands grasp at his boot, trying to stop his skin from tearing under the force. "No use trying to stop this faggot, get your hands off my boot, hands down" he barks. Eventually his boot falls to the floor with a thud, leaving a red raw mark to his forehead that will last for weeks if not months.

"If I roll another 4 this is going to hilarious" I say, grabbing the dice and letting them fall to the table. "7... 5 jumps on the chest again. That will give your face a little rest huh fag." Phil laughs. "Fuck we need to get some doubles or roll the other numbers for a change."

"Alright lets make this quick then, 5 jumps here we go fag." I stomp up onto his chest and start jumping like I'm on a trampoline. No precision, not caring exactly where I land.. I get through them fast, "One! Two! Three! Four! Five!" The slave lets out a short sharp yelp with each jump. He sounds like a musical instrument which makes us laugh. When I'm finished, I stay on top of his chest. I enjoy the feeling of his chest rising and falling quickly, trying to catch his breath and recover from the intense jumps. "Good. Your turn Phil" I say, jumping off the slave. 

"That was fast.. alright here we go, what have we got.." he says, rolling the dice. "Two 4s, a double finally!" he laughs. "Decisions, decisions. Do I go 8 - 30 seconds licking the boot soles of both Masters, or any other action from the list..." He thinks for a second or two but I can tell he's already made his mind up. "1 and 12 look great, but check out 10.. I can make him sniff some poppers as a bonus and then do either of them, so 10 it is!" He claps his hands with excitement. "5 big whiffs of amyl and any action of Master's choice.. It's gotta be 1, 3 hard jumps off chair, anywhere on the body!"

Phil takes the amyl over to the slave and bends down menacingly. "Here's your little bottle of faggot juice, get sniffing now. I want to hear you breathe that in. Go." The slave takes his first whiff. "Big breaths, all the way in" Phil demands. "Good, one. Two. Three faggot. Four faggot. Last one, go go go.. more. Good. Now hold your breathe." Phil grabs the chair and brings it closer to the slave's body. He steps up onto the slave casually, using his stomach as a stepping stone to get up on the chair. He turns around and looks down at the body he is about to destroy. The slave has gone very red in the face, still holding his breath. "Now breathe out faggot" Phil says at last. I laugh as the slave seems almost delirious with the poppers high. Phil takes aim and leaps off the chair, high into the air, pulling his boots together and landing brutally onto his dick. Phil laughs at the squeal of pain, as he turns around, steps right onto the dick he just mashed then stepping up onto the chair. Total disregard for the faggot underneath him. "Here comes the second jump you fucking faggot" he laughs, jumping once more, high into the air, the slave bracing for impact as the boots slam into his gut with a loud slap. He lets out a long groan, which Phil instantly mocks before laughing. "Ooohhh did that hurt you fucking faggot. Good" he says, as he stomps on the gut and gets back on the chair for his final jump. He's deciding where to land his final jump and I walk over to help him. I lift my boot up and push the slave's head to the side, his eyes facing away from the chair, unable to see where Phil will jump. "Keep your head that way fag" I order. I motion to Phil to jump on his head next and he laughs, nodding. The slave is still reeling from the amyl, face all red and breathing heavily. "Alright faggot, here comes the final jump and you will take it like the good piece of shit you are. Let me count you down. And 3, 2... " He jumps, not waiting to finish the countdown, in typical Phil style. He lands diagonally on the side of the slave's head with a huge thud, the boots slamming and crushing his skull into the wooden floorboards. The slave had no idea that was about to happen and is temporarily stunned, the amyl still working. The pain from the landing on his head begins to register and he lets out a loud moan, lifting his hands to his head. Phil and I are both laughing and high fiving each other, "That is the first time I've ever jumped full weight onto a head! I wasn't sure if he was going to be able to take it!" Phil is buzzing at what he was just able to do. Meanwhile the slave is dazed, looking up at us with a mixture of confusion and lust. "You enjoy that one fag?" Phil mocks. To our surprise, the slave answers back. "Very much Sir, thank you so much Sir for jumping on my head. It is an honour to be the first head you have jumped onto like that, I will always remember it." We both start laughing at his earnest mumblings, "He's looking and sounding a little spent now" I say.

"How about we do one more roll each and call it a day?" I suggest to Phil, he agrees. I walk over, grabbing the dice and shake them in my hand for a few seconds. "Come on give me a double..." I say to myself, wishing for something good to finish on. "5... 30 seconds marching anywhere on the body, both Masters. Oh well, that's still a good one.. let's get him." 

"I reckon this time let's get as close to each other as possible, cover his chest and torso so the four giant boots are crushing him completely, then we can let loose with the marching." Phil nods in agreement, stepping up onto his chest, his right boot right under the slave's chin and the left boot alongside. I step up onto his stomach, my right boot very close to Phil's and the left boot covering the rest of his gut. "30 seconds, here we go. Enjoy it faggot" Phil laughs. We synchronise our steps, marching quickly and stomping forcefully on his body. It has the effect of pummeling his body, making it very hard for him to catch a breath while the brutal boots keep lifting and landing on him so quickly. I can see his hands coming up as if he has the power to stop the onslaught. "Hands down!" I bark loudly, over the thud of our boots hitting his bare skin. He complies, and his hands stay down on the ground but balled into fists to try and cope with the pain. "Halfway there" Phil says, laughing as the struggle gets worse for the doormat. "He doesn't know how fucking lucky he's got it down there, the amount of faggots that would love to be in his position right now" Phil muses. The last 10 seconds I notice Phil starts to really stomp his boots down with each step, pounding them into the slave's chest. I increase the intensity of my stomps to match and we round out the last few seconds of marching with the slave gasping for air, totally spent. We step back off his body, catching our own breath while he writhes on the floor. 

"Lucky last roll. What will it be I wonder" laughs Phil as he makes his final roll. "Drum roll please..." he starts to laugh. "Honestly you won't believe this, it's a double again.. two 4s. What a way to finish!" He is very pleased with himself. He reads over the list a final time. "Even though we haven't rolled a couple of these numbers I feel like we've done a lot of this action. Licking our boot soles is too easy to finish with, it's going to have to be 12.. 3 hard jumps on the crotch."

I take a seat on the chair and use the slave's head as my footrest. I make sure to position my boots in a way that he can still see Phil as he jumps on his dick. I want him to see the final moments of his torture. My right boot is planted on the side of his head, and the left boot crossed over at the ankle. This allows him to see but also increases the pressure on his face, which makes me smirk. "C'mon Phil put this dumb faggot out of his misery then" I say, laughing. Phil stomps up onto the slave's already crushed cock and tramples it, changing his position, purposely taking his time to find the right position for his jumps. "You're gonna take these jumps faggot and you're going to thank me for each jump directly afterwards. Got it?" The slave replies, "Yes, Sir." Phil is ready to go. "I want to hear it nice and loudly, 'THANK YOU SIR', and if I am not satisfied with the volume or any other aspect of your thanks, I will add another jump on to the end. Got it?" The slave gulps and replies much louder, "YES SIR, THANK YOU SIR." Phil smirks at me, makes a mocking face like he's in pain. "Now, let's hope this hurts!" He bends his knees, crouching down slightly... then jumping up high and landing back down on the slave's dick, slamming into it hard. He groans loudly but manages a "Thank you, Sir!". Phil mocks the groan again, imitating it as he prepares for the next jump. He jumps up high and twists mid-air, turning around and landing in a different position.. this time the heel of his boots land harder on the slave's cock, crushing and twisting it with a new unexpected pain. It's so bad the slave is unprepared and cries out, whimpering and pleading for it to stop. "Where is my fucking thank you, fag?!" Phil barks, annoyed. "Sorry Sir, thank you Sir!" the slave replies, but it's not good enough for Phil. "Right, that's one extra jump added on to the end. I warned you, meet my expectations or pay the fucking price." He jumps up again, this time with not much thought to it. However, he lands back down in a similar position and twists his feet so the boots land down on each outer edge, ramming into the slave's crotch. It has the desired effect and he moans in agony but is quick to thank him loudly, "THANK YOU SIR!" Phil laughs. "Good. Now for your final treat.. I can break the rules, I do what I want. Shaun... I need that chair you're on." I stand up and bring the chair over to Phil. He steps up onto it without hesitation and positions himself on it ready to jump. "This concludes the Dice Game for you today faggot, and it may well also conclude the functioning of your pathetic little dick from here on in" he laughs. Phil looks at me smiling, shrugs.. And carelessly jumps high, landing both boots hard onto his dick. His balance is good now with years of trampling practice, he stays where he lands, pushing those boots hard into the crotch while he waits to hear the words, "THANK YOU SIR!" a final time. "Nice landing" I say, as we laugh and he casually steps off him like nothing happened

"Let's get the fuck out of here I've had enough of him." Neither of us look back at the slave, treating him like an object we just discarded. No acknowledgement, nothing. Experience tells us he will in our DMs within the hour, begging for more. We walk down the hallway, our boots clomping noisily on the wooden floorboards as they had when we first arrived. In our wake we leave the slave beaten and bruised, but happy. He smiles which causes him to wince, his face and head in a lot of pain. He knows there will be a long recovery ahead of him but he's already excited for the next opportunity to get under us. 

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The Dice Games to date: Video previews. Click on the title to find the full length video.

Dice Game

Dice Game 2

Dice Game 3

Dice Game 4

Dice Game 5