Chapter 1

The Career Fair

 

I was bored out of my mind. I'd volunteered to take a two hour stint at the community college booth during the Career Fair at my old high school. The booth was in the far corner of the gymnasium. Only a couple of students made the effort to walk over, and even fewer stopped to ask questions.

I had graduated a year ago, and I was attending classes at the college. I hoped to go into medicine, perhaps as a nurse. My dream was to become a doctor, but I knew that beyond my price range.

I am what one might call a mongrel - a very striking mongrel, but a mongrel none the less. My skin is a light cinnamon colour - too dark to be Caucasian, and too light to be considered Black. My almond shaped eyes exhibit some Asian blood, and my six foot high stature display my Anglo stock.

While waiting for another student to stop by and ask a question, my curiosity was piqued by the action at the booth across from me. The banner read "Bio Real Video". I'd never heard of the company, and, other than the name on the banner, there was no clue as to what Bio Real Videos did. The handsome middle aged man at the booth wore an expensive tailored suit.

The interesting thing was that every student who approached the booth quickly left looking unhappy. Then Rob, the captain of the football team, approached the booth. I'd had never liked Rob. He was stuck up and thought he was God's gift to women. Rob talked with the man for almost fifteen minutes.

Rob shook the man's hand, turned, and approached my booth. "Lisa, Herr Meier would like to talk with you."

While I didn't like the way Rob leered at me, my interest was piqued. "Okay, let me see if my relief is here." I phoned Judy who said she could start early, and within ten minutes I approached the Bio Real booth.

Rob was in the corner of the booth with a video camera. I held my hand out to the man, "Herr Meier, I presume? Are you filming us?"

As he shook my hand he answered, "Yes, Fräulein, I am. Bio Real Video is a German reality television producer, and I am in the United States searching for several young people who would be interested in the possibility of earning up to a million euros for about six months work. I think you might be a suitable candidate, so yes, I am filming this encounter."

"€ 1,000,000, that's more than a million dollars! You certainly have my attention. What would I need to do, kill someone?"

The man chuckled. "No, miss, the show will be called Sexvivor. We will pit 8 men and 8 women against each other in bondage, discipline, and sadomasochistic situations. Like Survivor, there will be challenges and contestants will be voted off the show. The first competitor voted off will earn at least € 10,000, and the last one standing will earn at least € 1,000,000."

"So sex would be involved?"

"Oh yes, much sex and, especially in your case, a great deal of pain."

"So you think I'm a Masochist?"

"Yes, I have a feeling that you are submissive, and that you would enjoy pain. I think you lie awake at night dreaming about both your pussy and your breasts being abused. I believe that you fantasize about being humiliated while you are forced to service both men and women, and that just skims the surface of your fantasies."

It was like he had read my thoughts. I did not say anything. We stared into each other's eyes. After about a minute he said, "Remove your top."

I waited for a couple of moments, thinking, No, no, no, don't do it, Lisa. Then I slowly unbuttoned my blouse and shrugged it from my shoulders.

"Now your brassiere."

You're standing in your high school gym ... Are you crazy, Lisa? As much as I wanted to, I couldn't stop myself. I reached behind my back, unsnapped my bra, and dropped it to the floor exposing my breasts.

"Just as I thought, your breasts are perfect; large, but not gigantic, perky, and firm, with nice nipples. I do not want to get thrown out of here, so I cannot have you standing here naked, but I do want your panties. Give them to me."

Lisa, are you fucking crazy? I thought. Again, I couldn't help myself. I reached down, removed my panties, and handed them to him.

"Lift your skirt."

I did so, exposing my trimmed pussy to both a stranger, and an old schoolmate who I detested.

"If you decide to apply for the show, do not trim your pubic hair until you are told to do so."

"Yes," I answered.

"Yes, Sir; you will show respect to all your betters and address them as Sir, Madam, or Miss. You shall always address someone you meet as Master or Mistress until they tell you otherwise."

"Yes, Sir."

There was a computer with a large monitor on the table between Herr Meier and me. "Click on the 'Live' icon, Fräulein."

I said, "Yes, Sir," as I used the mouse to click on the icon. Suddenly the monitor was filled with a live video feed of our encounter. I watched my face turn beet red on the screen.

"Lift your skirt so that we can see your pussy." Rob zoomed in as I did as I was told. "Now finger yourself. Do not touch your clit."

After several minutes he said, "You crave humiliation, do you not, Fräulein?"

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled.

"We did not hear that."

"Yes, Sir," I said louder.

"Yes, Sir, what?"

"Yes, Sir, I crave humiliation."

"If you are selected you will be humiliated, tormented, and fucked on a television program that will be viewed worldwide by millions of people. People will record it and both men and women will masturbate as they watch. I think you would do that for free. I bet you would volunteer to be on a show like Sexvivor, would you not?"

"Yes, Sir, I would volunteer to be on that kind of show."

"Do you know what that makes you?"

"I think that makes me a whore, Sir."

"Oh no, no, whores get paid, you would degrade yourself for free, and that means you are a slut."

"Yes, Sir, I'm a slut."

"Now take your finger and coat your nipples with your pussy juice."

I complied. I didn't think my nipples could get any harder, but as I stoked first my right, then the left nipple, they both stiffened. I watched them harden on the monitor. Damn, that's sexy, I thought

"Quit playing with yourself."

"Yes, Sir."

"There are three bottles on the table in front of you. Each contains a topical irritant solution. As you can see, they are labeled 'Mild', 'Medium', and 'Hot'. I want you to choose one, shake it well, and use the applicator to coat your right nipple and areola with it."

A huge neon sign in my head screamed, Mild, Mild, Mild. I reached for the bottle labeled 'Hot'. Rob chuckled as my breasts wobbled while I shook the bottle.

As I unscrewed the bottle cap Herr Meier said, "I am serious, slut. The Hot solution really burns. There are no repercussions if you use one of the other bottles."

I said, "Thank you, Sir," as I took the small brush that was attached to the cap and started to coat my right nipple with the clear viscous fluid. I started at the tip of my nipple, and slowly worked my way down to my areola in a circular motion. As the fluid soaked into my flesh some of it evaporated which cooled my skin. "It feels nice," I said. Herr Meier just grinned. I finished my task and replaced the cap. Soon my nipple started to itch. The itching began to crawl down towards my areola.

"It is starting to itch, is it not?" asked Herr Meier.

"Yes, Sir."

"Mild is just a little bit stronger than that."

Now my nipple was beginning to heat up. After about five minutes my nipple felt like it was on fire. "Ooooooooooooo ...," I started to moan as my entire breast caught fire. I felt tears roll from my eyes.

"I warned you. It will stay that way for about a half hour."

I forced my eyes open and saw that my nipple had turned a darker brown, and my breast was cherry red. God, that looks hot, I thought, I can't stand the pain, it's too much!

I started to pant. I wonder. Now the big neon sign in my head read No, fuck no! You gotta be crazy, Lisa. You'll go mad. NO, NO, NO! As much as I wanted to, I couldn't stop myself from reaching for the bottle.

As I shook it, Herr Meier said, "I advise against it, Slut. However, if you do it, I think I will come in my pants."

I did it! I watched myself on the monitor as I coated my left nipple with the caustic fluid. The mixture acted faster this time and within minutes both of my breasts were in flames. I fell to the floor in pain.

Herr Meier bent down and whispered into my ear, "Raise your skirt and play with your clit, slut." I pulled my skirt up and as soon as I touched my clit, I shuddered in the most intense orgasms I'd ever experienced.

"Oh my god," I whispered. I continued to frig myself and was soon rocked by several more orgasms, each stronger than the previous one.

"You are, in fact, a Masochistic slut. I cannot believe you coated both of your nipples with that. I do not think I have ever seen a bigger pain slut in my life. Stop masturbating."

"Yes, Sir," I reluctantly pulled my fingers away from my clitoris.

People, especially boys, were starting to congregate around the booth. After covering me with a blanket, Herr Meier told Rob to stop filming and to disperse the crowd.

I was curled in a ball; my chest was still on fire. "Rest little one," Herr Meier whispered into my ear, "Give it a chance to wear off. When you are ready, I have some paperwork for you ... "

I have no idea how long I laid on the floor. It seemed to take forever for the pain in my chest to begin to fade. It turned out that about ninety minutes passed before I sat up.

Herr Meier handed me a bottle of water. "Drink this, my little hase."

I drank the water greedily; it helped more than I thought it would. "Thank you, Sir."

"Owwwwwwwwww!!" I groaned as Herr Meier helped me back into my blouse.

"Yes, hase, your breasts will be tender for several days."

"Tender? My breasts are fucking killing me," I said.

Herr Meier chuckled. "Yes, well, do you think you can fill out some forms?"

"Yes, Sir." He helped me to a chair.

"You probably studied the Genetic Research and Enhancement Treaty in high school, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Good. Keep in mind that Germany did not sign the treaty. For the past twenty years a great deal of genetic research has gone into 'improving' the human body. Many wonderful and, in your case, terrible modifications have been made to people with whom you may interact. I cannot tell you about them, but I want you to think about the ramifications of agreeing to appear on the show."

"While there is no guarantee, if you sign the agreement today, I expect that you will be invited to travel to Germany. While there, you will be pampered, however you will also be degraded and abused beyond your imagination. You can, of course, refuse to do anything we ask of you. However, knowing a little about you, I expect that you will not refuse any task."

"Yes, Sir, I will keep that in mind."

"Good, meine Kämpfer."

"That's the second time you've called me something in German. Hase and Kämpfer. What do they mean?"

"Ah, yes, hase means bunny, and Kämpfer is a warrior or gladiator."

"I certainly like Kämpfer, hase, not so much." Herr Meier chucked and left me to the paperwork.

Most of the 'paperwork' was a very long questionnaire which asked everything from how old I am - 21, to have you ever had sex with a woman - no, and I'm not particularly interested in doing so. How often do you masturbate - once or twice a week.

In addition to a non-disclosure agreement stating that I would not disclose corporate or other secrets; there was a long document of legalese, which I pretty much skimmed. However, there was a plain language translation at the end:

 

By signing this document, you are giving consent to allowing people, both men and women, to perform acts upon you which will cause temporary and possibly permanent damage to your mind and body. While Bio Real GmbH believes that everyone's right to say 'no' should be respected, there may be multiple occasions where that right will not be respected. You will be notified of those occasions.

 

As promised, there was also a notice that biologically enhanced humans might interact with me. In addition, I was asked to set up an online bank account.

I finally turned to Herr Meier, "All done, Sir."

He studied his phone for a couple of minutes, and said, "Please check your bank account."

I was surprised to find that $ 2,500 had been deposited to my account. "Thank you, Sir."

"No, thank you, meine Kämpfer, I was surprised by your performance, and I am not easily surprised. We need one more signature. If you are selected as a candidate, it allows us to broadcast any and all videos of you worldwide, including the one we just made. Remember, once your image is broadcast, there is no return. Regardless of how hard we try to prevent it, your images will end up on the Internet, and once they are on the Internet, there is no going back. Please think this over. You have earned the fee, even if you do not give consent for broadcasting rights."

I looked the document over, and while I'm certainly not an attorney, it seemed very generous. All my expenses were to be paid, I would receive royalty payments, and my image could not be sold to another entity without my permission. I signed the document.

Sir handed me his card. "You have twenty four hours to think about what you have just committed yourself to. Please think about the ramifications about the path you may be embarking upon. If you change your mind or have any questions, contact me. Otherwise, continue with your normal routine. However, you are to masturbate for at least an hour every day, but you are not to cum."

"Yes, Sir."

"Please repeat your assignment so that I know that you understand."

"Yes, Sir, I promise that I will masturbate for at least an hour every day, but I will not cum."

"Very good, slut. Raise your skirt, do not touch your clit, and fuck yourself, remember," I repeated with him "do not cum."

I fucked myself with one finger, then two. I was so aroused I could only jack off for about five minutes before I had to stop.

"This is my last stop. You will be contacted within a week. I hope that you will be selected; I think you would be a fantastic contestant. Now go home."