EXTRACT FOR
The Begging Chair: Day 1
(Melissa DuVant)
|
The Begging Chair Day 1 Melissa DuVant Copyright © Melissa DuVant The right of Melissa DuVant to be identified as the
author of this book has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 and 78 of
the Copyrights and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or
utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic
mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including
xerography, photocopying, and recording, or in any information storage or
retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the author. All characters in this book have no existence
outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone
bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any
individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure
invention. Table of Contents Chapter One: The Show Begins (Precious) Chapter Two: A Victory and a Prize (Showgirl) Chapter Three: A Weighty Trial (Champion) Chapter Four: Queen's Mate (Queen) Chapter Five: Fit for a Princess (Princess) Day One Intermission: Demonstration Session Prisonette's Dilemma Chapter One: An Uneasy Meeting This was loosely inspired by "the Circle" (a reality show where the contestants were locked into private apartments to bicker between themselves without meeting) and "Insiders" a Spanish reality show that gaslit the hell out of the contestants - they were told they were being judged to complete in the show itself, that large chunks weren't being recorded when they were, and were shown psychological profiles of themselves and told to change certain aspects of themselves (like "be more aggressive" or "someone else keeps talking over you, stop letting them do that") if they wanted to get onto the show. Very creepy and manipulative, and the hostess did look good in leather! Persephone
straightened her back, checking how she looked on the screen as the countdown
started. Tight leather trousers, a black
bandeau over her breasts beneath a leather suit jacket, her black hair in a
ragged bob, the mic wire around her bare neck making her feel slightly uncomfortable. Working a room was one thing, getting
everyone talking, helping conversations along, but a broadcast to an empty room
was a whole different matter! The countdown above
the camera hit "0", the red light turning to green, a spotlight clicking on
from above to highlight her as the rest of the room vanished into darkness. She leaned back against the metal desk, the
thing absorbing heat from her hands, making herself seem at ease, before
staring into the camera and smiling. There
was a screen behind the camera letting her see what it was showing, so at least
she knew the angle she was stood at showing her breasts off well. 'Good evening,
everyone! Or whatever it might be for you,
and welcome to the first episode of the Begging Chair! For those of you that don't know me, I have
organised this little entertainment, and overseen the recruitment of our six
lovely stars... or perhaps victims might be a better phrase? I'm Persephone von Brimstone, and I will be your
host for this. Of course, I'm not alone,
and there will be other hosts as we go.
And, if it's popular enough, maybe even some more guests? But I'm sure you want to see the stars, so let's
get started.' The wire of the microphone
seemed far too heavy around her neck, pressing against her skin, making her
want to twitch and shake it off, but she managed to control herself, wanting to
seem calm and controlled. 'Helping me with the
introduction is one of the most renowned feelers of flesh, who has groped and
fucked his way around most of the world - if you've been to any of the UK's
clubs, you've probably met him.' She
pointed into the darkness as another spotlight flashed on, illuminating a
comfortable leather-cushioned chair - where had he gotten that from? She certainly hadn't requested it! Sat there was a bulky, male figure, wearing a
bright red suit jacket and a cummerbund, like an old-fashioned circus
ring-master, his head shrouded beneath a boar's head mask. 'Good evening, Persephone. Do you mind if I call you Sephy?' 'Yes, I do.' The man was a creep, no matter his stamina,
prodigious cock-size or undoubted technique!
'The first of our guests might already be known to those of you that
enjoy a bit of fighting.' A screen to her side
blinked on, the same video hopefully getting relayed to the audience, and also
being shown on a screen by the autocue.
It showed a young women dressed for sport, in tight shorts and a
tank-top, showing off taut abs and a lean body, with gloves on her fists and a
padded helmet, her feet wrapped. She
blocked a punch before countering, grabbing her opponent then pivoting them
over her hip to put them on the ground, then cut to show her going through an
exercise routine, her honed body shining with sweat. 'So, Ruttles, your
opinion?' He harrumphed from
behind his mask. 'I prefer my women a
little softer! She's certainly to some
people's tastes, but I'm not a fan of such things. Women should be more obedient, and not quite
so... hard.' 'Well, she's certainly
strong and tough! I wonder how much
punishment she can take? Those hard
muscles of hers might look very different after a good taste of the whip. She may even enjoy it, who knows? But she's used to overpowering her lovers as
much as her opponents, so having to submit may be a new experience for
her. That's beggar number one, Francesca
Garcia, the fighter!' She tried to
imagine a crowd cheering back, making her feel perkier. Doing this live would have been far easier,
although the security and privacy concerns for that would have been a nightmare. 'Our next subject is
from a very different background. Emilia
Featherly - a would-be business-leader, although her businesses don't generally
do well.' The screen showed a trim woman
in a knee-length suit-skirt, the blouse open to show a hint of cleavage, legs
sheathed in dark nylons. 'She's here to
try and drum up interest for her social media company, although...' Persephone lowered her voice
dramatically. '...it's already gone
bust. Not that she knows, but I feel you,
not-so-gentle audience, can be trusted.
She's not had a lover in a long time, so perhaps some of her frigidity
might be melted away?' 'Mmmm, she's just my
type! Stiff and reserved, but they melt
away when forced to. And they tend to be
very thankful, and there's a lot of uses I can find for the mouth of a clever
girl. Go into her office, remind her of
her debts and then put her over my knee, tell her she's a naughty girl.' His trousers were visibly tenting, cock
rising up, Persephone unable not to notice.
Why had everyone else been unavailable?
Although the numbers of streamers were ticking up steadily, so he must
be doing something right. 'Yes, perhaps we'll be
able to melt that icy cunt of hers! And
next we have another beauty that some of you may recognise, Olivia Davis. She was an actress, then there were some
problems and a brief bout in rehab, and now she's here hoping to reform her
image. Which, well... if any footage does
leak, then she's unlikely to have normal work again! Although that might make her nice and easy to
control, wouldn't you agree?' 'Oh yes, she looks the
sort that can be made nice and friendly without too much work. And lovely breasts - she even did a topless
scene in her first movie, did you know?
And of course she's a bit of a party girl, so looks good in those skimpy
dresses the youth seem to enjoy. Hmmm,
perhaps we could make her dance?' 'Maybe that can be a challenge
for her later!' His cock was still growing,
swelling up between his thighs - he was huge! No wonder she always heard so much squealing
when he was pounding someone, having something that size inserted would ache! And the eyes of the mask seemed far too
bright as they were staring at her - she normally liked being looked at, but
not by him. 'Coming from the other
end of the, ah, "acting" scale, we have Taylor Conte, or Aka-Hime to her
followers! You probably don't know her,
but you'll know her type.' The screen showed a bedroom,
filled with soft plushies, everything in pastel shades. Stood in front of the camera was a petite
young woman, tape over her breasts, wearing a tiny pleated micro-skirt, wires
running up between her thighs from a control device on her thigh. Around her neck was a collar, metal letters
spelling out "Bad Girl". She danced to
some perky pop music, playing with her breasts then giggling, so high-pitched
that Persephone winced. 'She's a
cam-girl. I'll be honest, when we
opened, we were snowed under with applications, so we just picked the one that
would be easiest to grab without anyone noticing. She's a sweet young thing though, that likes
being pleasured and teased, hasn't yet been introduced to anything rough. Which I'm sure will change!' The audio flicked over
to that from the recording, as Taylor breathlessly squealed. 'Oh, thank you, TinyTittyLover! That gift makes you my best donor this week!' The sounds of a vibrator could be heard, motor
muted by flesh, fluids trickling down her thighs, before the video froze. 'A little common for
my tastes. Rather plebian - good for a
quick suck and fuck, I suppose, but there's no art there. And I'm no fan of all this modern "dress up",
in those strange costumes, and the brightly-coloured wigs. All a little crass and artificial. Just give me a good, traditional girl that I
can tear the clothing off! Although I
suppose watching her protest her captivity might be amusing? A little vulgar, if you ask me. Although she is nice and small, and probably
tight - plowing that ass of hers might be fun, just pin her down and take my
pleasure.' 'Well, she's certainly
going to be used hard! And, of course,
all the stars will be available for hire or purchase afterwards! But, moving on - just two more, and then onto
the show itself! Next is Ayaka
Osaka. She's a realtor, although a lot
of her sales come from fucking her clientele and blackmailing them into buying her
most expensive properties. She likes it
rough and hard, but she sinks her teeth in and then doesn't let go. She's broken up, according to my researches,
at least fourteen marriages, eight companies and a lot of other relationships. I suppose you could say that she's possibly a
better actress than the actual actress!' The screen showed a
slender Japanese woman, stylishly dressed with just a hint of makeup, gold
shining at her ears, wearing a tight sweater that emphasised her pert breasts
and slender waist, along with tight designer jeans. Another image appeared, this time of her on
her knees, sucking at a cock. 'She's not the best at
covering her tracks, so we've got lots of pictures of her in compromising positions! She thinks that she'll be able to hide here a
while, but she's never being let go.' This one got a sound
of approval. 'She certainly is a
looker! And I do enjoy the look in a
woman's eyes when she realises she's not getting away. Reminds me a little of my fifth wife. Or was it the third? They do start to blur together after a while. It sounds like she's been a naughty little
thing and needs punishing, and she seems eager enough. How does she enjoy a little pain, or some
restraints?' 'She's used to being
the one giving orders, not taking them.'
Another picture, this time showing her dressed in a leather catsuit,
pressing down with a heel onto a man's chest while flourishing a whip. 'So this might take some getting used to for
her!' 'Hmmm, perhaps I
should give her a test? If you would
permit, Sephy?' 'Not yet! She'll need some breaking in first. After that, then I'm sure we can arrange
something.' Persephone managed to hide
her irritation at the mis-naming as she kept speaking. 'But moving onto the last of our lovely
guests - Lexi Taylor. She married young,
to a thrusting tech-entrepreneur, who spends all his time in the office. She's very bored, very pretty and was looking
for some fun! The modern American housewife! She enjoys cake, adultery, and has a mild
addiction to wine and anti-depressants.
No children yet, so that lovely figure of hers hasn't yet been ruined by
childbirth, but she does like to flaunt herself to the neighbours.' A woman reclined by a
swimming pool, wearing just a bikini, large sunglasses and a chunky golden
necklace. She moved drowsily, one hand
casually moving between her legs, lightly stroking herself, as a poolboy moved
past, gawking at her. 'Oh yes, she's
exquisite! Although probably has an insufferable
accent. But just the type to squeal into
a gag, sounding like a stuck pig as she's fucked, while being utterly drenched
and loving it. Invite her to a private
getaway, and some friends as well, and she'll be taking it in every hole, all
at once, and loving it! Nothing like a
domesticated slut for some pleasure!' His cock was fully
erect now, staggeringly large, Persephone having to tense her own thighs,
starting to feel her own arousal come on, despite her dislike of the man. She coughed to try and clear her mind. 'These six are our not-so-lucky
contestants! Each has chosen an
identifier to use within the game. Francesca
is "Champion", Emilia will be "Manageress", Taylor is "Princess", Olivia is "Showgirl",
Ayaka is "Queen" and Lexi is "Precious".
That's all that they will know about each other, at least to start with.' 'Ah yes, there's a
game here, isn't there? Beyond just
locking them in and training them?' 'Well, yes - the rules,
that they know of, are that there is a prize pot, of three million dollars,
which will be shared between the winners.
To keep things interesting, they can win each other's shares of this, by
winning in a variety of contests. Most
importantly, each will be wearing one of these.' Persephone twisted around over the desk,
uncomfortably aware that she was shoving her ass at her guest, and probably
being leered at, but hopefully the audience appreciated it. She pulled out a large metal ring, with
electrical prongs on the inside and a large battery pack on the back. 'To monitor their health, of course! And some extra features, to be controlled
remotely, or for those audience members that donate enough money to have some
playtime. Each of their apartments is
also fully controlled. To start with,
they will be able to control all those mod-cons - like the light, temperature, access
to food, all those things. But if they
loose enough games, then someone else will be able to take control. So those unfortunate enough to do badly might
find themselves in the cold and the dark, begging for food. If they are allowed their voices!' 'Ah, I think I've
heard of a similar setup from an acquaintance of mine. Although that was more for personal
training. So, what facilities do they
have in their rooms? I do hope they're
well supplied with toys!' 'They might be able to
earn that sort of thing, but, well - let's have a look. Our first guest is just being moved into
their new accommodation.' The feed changed to
show a small apartment - there was a living room area with a couch facing a
massive screen, an open area with a wooden floor, everything coloured in light
pastels without any personal ornamentation.
Through a doorway was a massive double bed, the metal frame bolted to
the floor, another doorway leading to a bathroom with a toilet and shower. There were no external windows, the light
from the bulbs shining down with false sunlight. 'Each has been prepped
for their personal needs.' The front door opened
with a heavy "click", opening to reveal that it was thick and heavy metal. Two latex-clad women walked in with a
stretcher between themselves. Their faces
were covered behind breathing masks, the only visible flesh that around their
eyes. On the stretcher was an
unconscious woman wrapped in clingfilm, their body barely visible, face hidden
behind a leather hood. They were carried
through the room and laid onto the bed, before the women left, closing the door
behind themselves. Chapter
One: The Show Begins (Precious) Lexi ran a hand
through her hair, now a bright and crimson red, rather than the dull and plain
brown it had been. Two ribbons had been
provided, and she quickly tied her hair into high pigtails, making sure that
the ribbons were on the front, clearly visible to anyone looking at her. She glanced around the
room, trying to spot the cameras - she knew she was being recorded, but it
would be interesting to know from where.
There was an obvious black dome in the corner, but there must be
more. The well-lit mirror was probably a
two-way one, with a camera on the other side, if not a whole camera team. The thought of being
observed sent a thrill through her, making her whole body shiver with warmth. She pouted at the mirror, flicking her tongue
over her lips and blowing a kiss at her unseen observers. 'I thought gentlemen
preferred blondes?' There was all the
makeup she needed, as well as jewellery - she picked up a large pink earring, embossed
with her name, clipping it into place.
The collar around her neck was tighter than she would like, with a
little clip where a leash could be attached, but surely that wouldn't be done,
would it? Even for a sexy reality TV
show, there would be limits! She looked around at
the room she was in, which would likely be the limit of her world, at least
until she won and could go home again.
The makeup table next to a large, and currently locked, wardrobe, bathroom
with see-through walls, a big double-bed and a kitchen-diner. Most of the furniture was well made but
securely bolted into place and impossible to move, although cushions and throws
softened the harsh edges somewhat. There
was a large glass panel that looked like a window, but it showed an image of
green hills and blue sky - it was behind a window that made it impossible to
touch, but Lexi was pretty sure it was a screen. The room was dominated
by a massive TV screen with a camera above it, currently showing the show's
icon - an unblinking eye with the pupil formed by a chain, above a stylised
wooden chair and the text "The Begging Chair".
It had sounded odd, but a two million dollar prize? For what had sounded like basically a popularity
contest? She smiled again at the mirror,
shifting in her chair and playing with her breasts. And to get out of that house, that stifling,
always-the-same damn house. A soft chime sounded
out as an envelope icon flashed up. She
stood and walked over - the apartment was comfortably heated, so she felt warm
despite wearing only a skimpy pair of lace panties. As she approached, the message started to
play, a flat and toneless voice reading out the words. 'We're not really
gentlemen! But you're doing well.' The sound of money played, coins tinkling
together. 'Much more exciting. Now kneel, spread your legs and put your
hands on your head.' She obeyed, turning
her head and smiling, trying to look as sexy as possible - it was only the
first day, but she seemed to be doing well.
Being locked in and isolated was annoying, but the thought of being
looked at and men getting hard from looking at her was, mmm... delicious. 'I'm looking forward
to being dressed by you all. I wonder
what you'll pick out for me?' The message sound
chimed again. 'Yes, you sold your right
to choose your own clothing, didn't you? What should we pick?' Images appeared on the
screen, outfits scrolling past - party dresses, ball-gowns, body stockings, a
latex bodysuit, tight hotpants and more.
It had seemed an easy choice - the apartment was warm enough that even "nudity"
wasn't that cold, and it meant she was probably drawing a lot more attention
than her competitors. The images stopped
scrolling, settling on tight sports shorts and a sleeveless vest. She frowned - she'd
rather something a little more modern! But
she was distracted by the chiming sound of coins. She wasn't allowed to know her score without
being deducted points, but she must be doing well - when she had agreed to dye
her hair, the sound had kept going for quite some time, and it had been even longer
when she had signed away her choice of clothing. 'This'll do, slut. This'll do.'
That sounded like someone different than before - there must be some
filtering going on, as there only seemed to be a few messages coming
through. It was easier than dealing a
continual stream of repetitive messages!
She looked at the wardrobe
expectantly, but it didn't open.
Instead, a panel on the wall clicked open, revealing a sealed plastic
packet. Inside was the promised clothing
- tight and trim exercise shorts and a sports vest. It looked like something from an old work-out
video! But it was what had been paid
for, however much had been donated, and so Lexi put it on. It did at least look
good on her (although most clothing did) - the shorts clung to her pert
buttocks, while her breasts were clearly defined and shown under the top. She posed and preened, stroking her body,
feeling a sting of desire in her pussy.
It was a shame that the cameras were probably everywhere, as she was so
turned on that she wanted to touch herself, to slide fingers into her hot and
wet slit. But the recording contract had
been very clear that she wasn't allowed to touch herself on-camera! 'Looking good.' Having the compliment
delivered in a flat and unemotional tone was somewhat unnerving, but Lexi still
made herself smile, twisting and pulling the material tight around
herself. Then she reached out and tapped
the screen, pulling up the options - she could buy some time in the "blackout
room", which had no cameras in, for 10000.
That sounded a lot, especially when she had no idea how much she had. There was a jacuzzi tub in a (very plastic)
looking garden that was 1000, and then pictures of food with smaller prices
next to them. Maybe she could treat herself
to something later? She'd never had the
chance to wear something like that before, but the tight sleekness of it
appealed to her. She poked at the
screen, making sure to wriggle her butt and show herself off - the sexier she looked,
the more likely she was to get votes - and brought up the information on the
other competitors. Whether any of the pictures
were correct was a whole other matter though - part of the game was
trying to work out who was telling the truth about themselves and who was
lying. All the pictures that Lexi had
provided were of herself - although often a bit touched up - but there was
nothing to say the other competitors were telling the truth. There were five
others, and all the pictures showed them to be very attractive - there was a
businesswoman, wearing skirt-suits, her jacket and silk blouse showing generous
cleavage, some minions just out of shot.
Thus far, there were only two pictures of each of them - the next up was
very buff, one of her pictures showing her climbing up a cliff without any
safety gear, the other in a gym, toned muscles and a sleek six-pack on display
between a sports bra and tight exercise shorts. That one had messaged
her, asking about her own work-out routine, clearly having noticed Lexi's own
trim body - not anywhere near as buff, but still showing evidence of her hard
work to keep herself as attractive as possible.
Not that she had much else to do every day, with Brian always at work! The exchange had seemed genuine, but had only
been brief - but it was a start. Maybe
then she could get some parts of the other woman's keycode? Lexi glanced down at
the corner of the screen where there was a glowing padlock icon. If the instructions of the game were correct,
then that could be used to try and make attempts at guessing another's code,
which would allow control of things like room lights and temperature. And more importantly, could be used to
transfer points to other players. It hadn't
been very clearly explained, but it sounded as though it would be possible to
get another's code! Of course, without a
reason to give numbers up, no-one would do such a thing, but there would probably
be some kind of vote or contest, with the winner getting a number from the loser? There was another
woman, bright pink hair and wearing a pastel blue t-shirt, sat at a computer
desk, her other picture showing her in an outlandish costume, some sort of
tight and skimpy sci-fi getup, tight blue material clinging to her body,
stylised battle-damage across her breasts and belly. The only message from her had been an
incomprehensible stream of emoticons and 'net slang, that Lexi had sent a polite
response to, but hadn't been able to properly understand what they were saying. The other two were
more mysterious - one looked like a generic model, all lips and boobs, and hadn't
said much beyond a cursory greeting. And
the last was an Asian woman, dressed between "smartly" and "sexily", wearing
tight dresses and high heels, at some event with glasses of champagne. Lexi couldn't tell if she was an escort,
another housewife, or maybe a PA or something? None of them had names,
or at least real names, given - Manageress, Champion, Princess, Showgirl and Queen. Lexi had entered her own as "Precious". She scrolled through the pictures again - at
least one person was probably lying, but she didn't have much to go on so far. An envelope icon
flashed up, and Lexi pressed the screen to open it up. A loud sound blared out, a horn making Lexi
wince from the volume of it. A challenge has
been declared! Princess wishes to
challenge you to a test of stamina. The
winner will gain an extra vote for the first leadership election. Lexi had no idea what
that actually meant, but it would probably give some level of power and control? With only six of them, then any extra votes
would be powerful, even if there was some level of external control from a viewer
poll or something. Although with all of
the stuff she'd been doing for the viewers, hopefully she would do well on that
count as well. She pressed the green
tick to agree to the challenge. It might
be nice to have something to do as well - this room was nice, but the door was
securely locked and there was no way out, and nothing to do other than watch
the screen constantly in the hope of a new message, or obsesses over the ten
images of her competition. Challenge accepted! Another tinny horn sound came from the TV, sounding a little cheap and
tacky. Precious will proceed
to the challenge room. She heard the click of
her door, moving swiftly towards it. She'd
been brought here, wherever here was, blindfolded and deafened, only removing the
restraints in the room, and was curious to see the rest of the place. Outside the door was a
long hallway, a bright bulb above, but otherwise dark. When she moved forward, another bulb lit up,
showing her the way to go - it was like an upmarket hotel, with soft carpeting underfoot
and plain white walls. And utterly anonymous
- she did pass by several doors, but they were all closed, and there was no way
to tell if they were for the other competitors, or the camera and editing teams
were behind them, or if they were cosmetic.
As she moved, the lights blinked out behind her, and side-passages
remained entirely unlit. If she had to
navigate by herself, it would be easy to get lost, as there weren't any
landmarks or anything to tell the plain walls apart. Another lock popped
open, a door sliding open, another light flickering on. It illuminated a cold and sterile room, all
plain white tile and chrome polish, looking uncomfortably surgical. The only spot of colour was a bright pink
cushion set on the floor, in front of a steel post, topped with a roughly circular
metal frame. As soon as she stepped
inside, the door clicked shut behind her.
There wasn't even a handle on the inside for her to pull on, the frame
flush with the surround. She had a quick
look around the room, wrapping her arms around herself to try and stay a little
warmer, this place colder than her own room.
Metal cabinets and lockers covered one wall, all locked, and a wide
mirror dominated the longest wall. She
waved and smiled at it - that must be a one-way mirror, with a camera crew
behind it. A screen blinked on,
in front of the post, a downwards arrow pointing at it. Lexi approached, unsure what she was meant to
be doing, but settling for kneeling on the cushion, glad for something that
protected her knees against the cold tile floor. With the post in front of her, she could see
that there was a heavy leather strap around the top, buckle gleaming in the
cold light. There was a horizontal bar
on top of the pole, with circular rings, about the size of her wrists, on each
end. She glanced up at the
screen again. Stamina challenge 14. Had
there been other challenges already, or had Showgirl chosen from a list? Breath challenge. A stick figure diagram
appeared, showing a strap going around the neck. She hesitated, then obeyed, the belt pulling
her up close to the post, barely able to move her head forward or back, the
leather tight around her neck, post against her throat. Next she was instructed to put her hands into
the circular bands - they snapped shut as soon as she did so, making her pull
on them in surprise. There was no give
at all, and no padding inside the metal, which pinched at her flesh as she
wriggled against them. Her fingers
flapped, pressing against plastic on the inside of the post. With her hands locked
into place, she couldn't release her neck!
She flailed her fingers some more, tapping against the plastic, finding
them to be buttons. The winner will be
the one that can endure the longest.
When a competitor wishes to surrender, they can press the right button. Press the right button. Lexi obeyed, tapping
her fingers against it, feeling it depress. The competitor may
start by pressing both buttons. She obeyed again, pressing them both down, until
the screen flashed in acknowledgement. Challenge
begins! A panel in the wall slid
aside, in front of her face, and a black shaft, slick and ominous, slid out. It moved with smooth, mechanical grace and
power, pushing towards her mouth. She
pressed her lips shut, the thing pressing against them - it was slightly
rubbery, and slippery with some kind of lubricant. It kept pushing forward, and she had to open
her mouth to let it in, the thing sitting there, fat and heavy. It started to push forward
again - with the belt around her neck, she couldn't move her head back to reduce
the strain, as it filled her mouth, her tongue flicking over it, tasting the
slippery rubber. It filled her mouth,
making it impossible to speak properly, any words mangled and mushy. 'Whaph iph thiph!?' The thing slid deeper
in, probing into her throat, making her cough and splutter, her eyes starting
to water. The competitor who
can hold for the longest time wins.
Press the left button to advance. Despite the pain in
her throat, Lexi wanted to win, and so pressed the button. She felt the shaft expand in her mouth, inflating
and swelling as it started to twist around, scraping around in her throat. She coughed and spluttered, trying to pull
away, wanting to clear her throat, but the strap was too tight. Her wrists and arms pulled against the restraints,
but the metal was merciless, not letting her go. A number appeared on the
screen, only slowly increasing, from 18 to 19, then flashing without incrementing. That didn't seem very high? Despite the bulk of the thing in her mouth,
she fumbled around, being careful not to press the right-hand button, fingers
pressing against the other button. The shaft withdrew,
allowing her a single short breath before pumping forward with vigour, even larger
now. It made her cheeks bulge out,
straining to take the size of it, making her throat strain to endure the shaft. 'Mmpphh! Mph!' She couldn't do more than splutter, but the
number was ticking up higher now - 24, 25, 26... There was no way to tell how the other contestant
was doing. She looked like someone that wasn't
a stranger to cock-sucking, but this was pretty large! She tried not to remember past memories, of
strong hands on her head, pushing her head back and forth as she tried to make
it more gentle. She kept her finger on
the button, the pistoning action getting faster and faster, slamming in and out
of her mouth, before shoving forward and staying in position. 38.
Fluid starting oozing out, thick and sticky. Some of it dribbled out, over her chin, but
it was being pumped with enough vigour that she had to swallow before it flowed
into her lungs. It was bitter, stinging
her throat with a harsh flavour, but she didn't let go. She wouldn't loose out, not so easily! She was desperate for air, trying to breath
around the shaft, sucking air through her nose, using her tongue to splash the
fluid out, as much as possible. Her vision started to
waver, lungs burning, darkness creeping into the edges of her eyes. She needed air! But she didn't want to be defeated. 42 ticked up to 43, blinking for a long second
before 44. But she was barely conscious
now! She removed her finger from the
button, but it stayed depressed, the fake cock unrelenting, forcing her to weakly
scrabble for the other button. She couldn't
hear any click as she pressed it, but her score flashed on 45, the shaft
withdrawing. She let the stuff dribble
from her mouth, wrinkling her nose at the smell, needing time to regain herself,
the aching in her lungs slowly fading. When the
wrist-shackles popped open, her arms dropped to the floor, weak and powerless. The liquid had a thick, musky aftertaste and
scent, one that wouldn't shift, her chin smeared with it. Lexi had to strain against the neck-strap
before she found the strength to lift her hands and clumsily unbuckle it, barely
able to stand as she wiped gunk off her face, smearing it over her thin
top. Had she won? The door didn't open,
and the screen turned off. Was Showgirl
in a nearby room? The organisers would
have to let one of them leave fast, so they didn't encounter each other in the
passageways. But the hallways had seemed
quite large - with just 6 contestants, it seemed larger than it needed to
be. Unless there were lots of contest rooms? The shaft retracted
with a motorised whine, wall closing back up so that the only sign it had ever
been there was some of the liquid, still puddled on the floor. Then the door popped open, lock unsealing and
letting Lexi exit. She moved down the dark
passages, glad of the bubble of light around her. At one junction, she
looked left, and saw a blur of movement at the end of an otherwise-dark passageway,
before the light blinked out. Had that
been her rival? She hadn't seen more
than a brief darkness, not enough to even tell their gender, but seeing some
evidence of life was something of a relief. The way back to her
room seemed longer than the way out, and it was a relief to come back into the
small apartment, the lights tinted like sunlight rather than harsh electric bulbs. There was nothing on the screen, so she went
to the shower, glad to clean herself up and clean the taste out of her mouth. Chapter Two: A Victory and a Prize (Showgirl) Olivia swirled water around her mouth, trying to clear out the taste of the paste, and to relax her throat and jaw from their recent ravaging. She knew that this was a saucy show, but hadn't expected anything quite that violently vigorous on the first challenge! If it was the first challenge, anyway - she hadn't been involved in any, but being isolated, it was possible that the other contestants had. Back in the living room, she heard the screen chime, and spat out the water, her head still feeling dazed from the throat-ravaging and not being able to breath properly. And the taste of that paste! She winced, sucking her cheeks in and spitting again, before checking her reflection - her eyes had been watering, making her mascara run down her cheeks in thick black streaks. She'd always hated that sort of thing - sucking someone off wasn't too bad, but being forced and used roughly just hurt! But it was hard to say no, especially when they were pushy. The screen chimed again, and she tried to wipe away some of the black smears, without a great deal of success. Maybe she could try and gain some extra sympathy? Tears were still trickling down her face, as she did a quick vocal exercise, checking that she could still speak properly. She went into the main room, where the screen was flashing the "eye" logo of the show, the pupil-chain slowly rotating. An electronic voice spoke, and her eyes flicked about the room - being filmed on set was one thing, but being recorded all the time was a little more un-nerving! And there must be someone, or probably a whole team, watching the camera-feeds, editors ready to chop and splice footage to make it more interesting. She'd have to be careful not to do anything too bad, that might damage her reputation afterwards, but this could be what her career needed. Her hand started to shake, and she forced it to stop by tensing up. And going cold turkey without the scandal of rehab! Although she could feel a cold sweat pouring from her skin, as she recovered from the throat pounding. 'Congratulations, Showgirl!' Lights exploded on the screen, a recorded of a fireworks display momentarily displacing the omnipresent eye. 'You were successful in your challenge!' Times flashed up: 45 seconds for Precious, while she had managed 57 seconds. It had felt far longer, having that huge shaft pumping in and out of her throat. Still, having won something was nice. Maybe she would get a treat? Or some nicer clothing? The dresses here were all fairly plain and bland - she ran her hands down her body, feeling the dip and curve of her hips, wincing at the feel of the cotton. At least it was tight enough around her hips and waist to show off her figure, but it was a rather drab grey color, and the low neckline exaggerated her bust uncomfortably, as well as making the safety-collar around her neck obvious. She knew that they had to be monitored, but... Her hand came up, feeling along the metal, smooth and warmed by her body, impossible to remove, with the bulk of the powerpack on the back, beneath her brunette hair. 'A reward has been prepared.' Stars burst on the screen, a score flashing up and ticking upwards, her score now... 21,500. That seemed alright, maybe? Although she had no idea how many points the other contestants were on, or even what they were like, beyond the isolated pictures she was permitted to see. They were all very attractive, but that was only to be expected, but "Champion" and "Queen" both looked intimidating and bossy. Princess and Precious both looked... softer, Princess especially, all pink and petite. And Precious apparently didn't have as much stamina? Well, that was something. 'So, what's my reward?' She wanted something nice. And it was nice having someone, or something, to talk to, even if it was just an assistant in a back-room somewhere with a text-to-speech. And however many viewers were watching! Hopefully lots - she made herself smile, crossing her arms in front of herself to plump her breasts up. 'Some nicer clothing. And a show has been requested.' 'A show?' 'But you must make a choice first. You may select one of your contestants to undergo a solo trial. If they fail, then you will be awarded with part of their code.' The five names flashed up on screen, each with an associated icon - they seemed to have a decent graphical designer on board, at least. 'What do they have to do?' 'But you must make a choice first. You may select one of your contestants to undergo a solo trial. If they fail, then you will be awarded with part of their code.' Olivia rolled her eyes. They could at least mix it up a little! And maybe alter the tone of the electronic voice to make it something other than constant and bland? Shouldn't there be some kind of characterization to it, or a mascot character or something? 'Will they know it was me?' If she could get an edge over some of the scarier-looking ones, then that would make things easier, but she didn't want to risk reprisals. 'They will not be told.' That was a relief! 'Champion, then.' She looked strong and powerful, her body lithe, dressed for training, all slender and toned. In any sort of physical contest, then she would be a strong contender, so if Olivia could get control of her in some way, then that would be a lot better! 'Understood.' 'My... my reward?' She heard a noise, part of the wall opening up. She hadn't realized the hidden compartment had even been there! Inside was a dress-bag, which she took, laying it out on the couch before unzipping it. Inside was... an outfit? Probably? It seemed to consist mostly of latex and lace, with buckles and straps gleaming amongst the fabric, and with lots of crisscrossed cords over cut-out panels. It looked even skimpier than some of the monstrosities that American stars wore to the Met gala! And what seemed to be a stomacher around her waist, not that she needed any assistance with that. And there was a bag with a pair of heels in, although they looked like fairly mundane stilettos, the heels high and thin. 'Do I... have to?' She reached out and touched it - it was a strange sensation, the slightly scratchy lace next to slick-smooth latex. 'It is your prize. The viewers may think poorly of you if you turn it down.' She lifted it up - it was heavier than she expected, the metal buckles and leather straps giving it more weight than it would have if it were just a simple dress or a chemise. And to get it on she'd have to strip! She looked around, flushing as her eyes picked out the cameras. She'd done nude scenes before, but hadn't enjoyed it, and this seemed even more intrusive. She picked up the dress and went into the bedroom, hoping that would give her some more privacy. Although there were probably cameras even in here, and the collar likely had one in as well, amongst whatever electronics were packed into it! She wanted a drink, although just the thought made her hand shake again until she took several deep breaths, managing to force herself into stability, then putting the shoes in - the dress looked like it might make it hard to move once it was on! |