EXTRACT FOR
Bets and Bondage
(Melissa DuVant)
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Bets and Bondage Melissa DuVant Copyright © Melissa
DuVant The right of {Author Name} 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. Chapter One: When the Three Meet Again Chapter Three: Shot and Grabbed Chapter Four: Unexpected Training Chapter Five: External Contractors Chapter Eight: Hands-On Training Chapter Nine: Flipping a Switch Persephone's Woman: Finding a New Model Chapter Ten: Finding a New Model Chapter Eleven: Face-to-Face Interview Chapter Twelve: Building from the Ground Up Chapter Thirteen: Down and Dirty Chapter Fifteen: A Shocking Display Chapter Sixteen: Finishing Touches Helena's Woman: Crafting a Weapon Chapter Seventeen: First Meeting Chapter Eighteen: Testing and Training Chapter Nineteen: Product Placement Chapter Twenty: Exercise Session Chapter Twenty-One: Storage Testing Chapter Twenty-Two: Enter the Ring Chapter Twenty-Three: Harnessed Strength Chapter Twenty-Four: The Big Day Chapter Twenty-Five: Judgement Day The Begging Chair Day 1: Queen's Mate Funded by Dillon: a nerd from Somerset who spends his free time playing RPGs, or being with his friends and going LARPing Chapter One: When the Three Meet Again Helena took a sip of her drink, enjoying the taste, and the light thrum of activity. The woman beneath her, Thing One serving as a seat, was strong and stable, giving her a good seat, the balcony raised up to give a view over the rest of the bar. It wasn't rammed, but there were enough people for a good atmosphere - there must be some event in town, everyone in expensive suits and dresses. She cast her eye over the staff, all in their uniforms - sleek leotards and stockings for the women, with devil-horns on their heads, heels making their legs and butts nice and tight and taut. And tight leather shorts for the men, showing off their chests. All of them had collars and cuffs as well, with metal D-rings shining against leather. 'How's your new pet, Persephone? Heard you did well at the showcase.' Persephone was staring down at the crowd as well, a leash in her hand, attached to the neck of a leggy woman in a sleek and sultry evening dress, their head hidden behind a leather hood, hands in sacks and cuffs to their thighs, shuffling nervously. 'She needs more work, but did quite well.' She stretched out a leg, her long dress falling back to reveal bare skin, ending with a bright red stiletto. Another woman was down on the floor, a leash tied around the leg of the table, crawling forward and kissing at the proffered shoe - another one of Persephone's model friends? Or one she was training as a bitch? It was hard to tell, even the ones she was friendly with seemed to end up getting used and abused quite often. 'Maria is going to be a good pet-bitch, once I'm done with her.' The woman on the ground moved their head, kissing against Persephone's bare leg, Persephone purring in delight - she could be quite like a cat herself! 'You did well at the races as well. Managing to avoid getting married off again? You can't keep putting it off though - soon you're going to be pumped full of cum, pumping out cute little baby-brats! It'll be nice to be an aunt, I think. Although it'll be easier to get someone else to do most of the work, you just get to pump them out!' Helena shivered. 'You know what Dad's like. Going to have to do it sooner or later, and you're not getting any younger! Better to find someone you like, or you're going to end up tied onto a gyn table getting pumped full of cum. And I'm not doing it, don't want to lose my figure! I don't think Lilith's really up for it either, right, Lil?' 'Lilith. And yes - it is Helena's right as the eldest to take care of such matters. But no babies near my devices.' She was wearing one of her usual outfits, a sleek latex mini-dress that clung to her curves, contrasting with her milk-white skin and hair, drinking a luridly colored cocktail, accompanied by her creepy nun-slave, face covered in a breathing-muzzle, the latex habit over her chest straining as she panted, her oxygen restricted, hands bound together at her waist into a praying position. Well, as long as she didn't pass out! 'They make a mess. And smell.' 'I'm not going to be used as a breeding-bitch!' Thing One wriggled, responding to her agitation, herself hooded as well. 'I just want someone that's not a complete douche!' 'Well, you better look fast. And you know Dad has high standards, so I can't even just hook you up with some himbo.' She flicked her leg up, bringing it down above the head of her bitch/friend, shoving their head down against the floor. 'Your clock's tick-tocking! Need to get pumped full, the sooner the better.' Helena grabbed the ass of her seat and squeezed, as hard as she could, needing to relieve her stress, turning to Lilith. 'What about you? And her?' She gestured at the nun, whose eyes were fixed on Lilith, wide and creepy, her makeup making her look almost artificial, all the rest of her skin sealed away. Lilith smiled, stroking her phone, before tapping the screen. The nun immediately shivered, freezing in position, her breath halting for a moment, eyes going even wider. 'She is well-trained. Pleasingly loyal and devoted. I think perhaps a new line? Devotionals maybe?' 'Hmmm, maybe. I'm not sure how much call there is for nuns these days - I think we hit peak maid a few years back, now it's maybe office sluts?' She started counting the seconds in her head, wondering how long it would be before the nun passed out, but then they inhaled again, just shallowly. 'The imposed attitude adjustment is the main thing - having them fixate on their owner makes ownership easier, and reverence is appropriate for certain aesthetics.' Had Lilith been spending time with Persephone again? She was starting to speak like her! 'Try it with a few more test subjects. Just don't break them - we had a glut of petgirls after your last set of experiments, they were a pain to get rid of!' She downed her drink, raising the empty glass, Thing Two leaning in and taking it, leotard highlighting her sleek, toned muscles, gag-muzzle silencing her mouth. She looked at the other two, both of whom nodded, Thing Two going to get more drinks. Helena slapped Thing One again, enjoying the way the body beneath her shook in response to the impact. 'Your slaves are always weird - they're too dependent on technology and break in strange ways. Like that one that refused to move if you didn't show her that ball first, and wouldn't drink if it wasn't from a cock. And yours are too fragile, Persephone. They pass out after just a few fucks! No endurance.' She looked down - there was more activity now, two members of staff bent over a table, their hands being held down as rope was fetched, tying them onto the heavy wood. One of the customers had a red wine-stain on their white dress - no wonder then, someone deserved punishment for that. The slap of skin-on-skin rang out as they were spanked, their gasps cut off by having rope wrapped around their heads and pulled into their mouths. Their leotards did little to cover their backsides, and their struggles weren't enough to escape the rope. It wouldn't be long until their cute butts were covered in red slap marks! Although if that was all they got, they could count themselves lucky - the dress looked expensive, and there was a lot more equipment available, if requested. When she turned back to her sisters, Persephone was tugging on the leash, dragging the standing woman downwards, flicking aside the long skirt and pinching at their thigh, hard enough to draw out a pained hiss from beneath the hood, as supple skin was twisted and pulled. 'You just go for dumb meat-sticks. They're not good for anything except fucking! And fighting, I guess. At least the ones I train are prettier to look at, and know how to dress themselves. And Lilith's are, uh, one-off collectables. At least until she standardizes her process. And they don't self-destruct or break themselves, or end up dribbling in the corner. There was that one that I used as a dress-dummy for a while, but I had to get rid of her when she lost her figure.' 'You asked for an obedient doll!' Lilith sounded indignant, a rare show of emotion. 'I wanted obedient, not utterly passive! And she started crying every time a phone rang anywhere near her, I couldn't even take her anywhere, it was just embarrassing. Although that's better than having to use super-heavy restraints all the time, like is needed for Helena's. There's just no style to it - can't dress them up nice without putting them into a heavy-duty straitjacket first, which just ruins the lines of the body.' 'You should want to draw attention to their muscle-tone, it increases the price.' 'It's not about the money, it's artistry. The complete package - not just the body, but the clothing, the attitude, their spirit. That's more important than what sells for the most!' Persephone glared back at Helena, hand tightening around the leash, pulling the hooded woman lower down, a surprised squeak coming from behind the hood. The Thing returned with a tray of drinks, hovering uncertainly, before Helena sighed and pointed at the table. 'Fine, why don't you bet on it? It's Dad's birthday soon. Got him a gift yet?' Both of the others shook their heads. 'So, why don't we do that? We each present him with someone, whoever he thinks has given him the best wins. And if I win, then I want some custom outfits for my Things from you, and some touch-up conditioning for them from Lilith. Nothing too heavy though, just a little more oral eagerness.' Helena tilted her head, running a hand through her hair, currently purple, until she decided to change it again. 'Hmmm, that could be interesting. If I win, then I want some custom training from you Lilith - a few of my friends are being annoying, so I think they should be more polite and respectful. Just a few days in isolation should do it, but I want them functional, without anything that might show they've been broken a bit. And you, Helena, can lend me some of your muscle for a show. There's a fashion for the big, brooding type at the moment.' 'You in, Lilith?' 'If I win, then I will train your personal slaves. The Things and that bitch of yours.' Helena and Persephone looked at each other, both wincing. 'Nothing to major! I want the Things functional, not turned into vegetables.' Lilith rolled her eyes. 'A few triggers and some training conditioning. You won't even notice. Probably. And they'll be able to hold their breath a lot longer.' She paused, fingers twining white hair. 'Although you might need to force them to wash, fear of water seems to be a side-effect.' Helena pounded back her drink, feeling the alcohol buzz her veins. 'OK, fine. So, three months to acquire and train someone? And it has to be fresh meat - no buying someone that's already been trained, they have to be raw to start with.' She shifted her weight on her living seat, feeling the Thing shift beneath her, used to her movements, taking it without even a grunt of protest. And there wasn't even a sign of dribble on the floor - the Thing really was getting better at obedience! 'Agreed. Fresh meat, and to be presented on his birthday, wrapped up however seems appropriate.' She yanked on the leash, then reached up and dragged the head of the woman down, stroking along their body, feeling at their breasts. 'Hmmm. This one is a bit damaged already, I suppose I'll have to find someone new. Too much time on the catwalk - I'll need someone with more stamina, someone fresh. Although I suppose that means I can have my fun with this one first.' Her hand slid along their ribs, before sliding down between their legs and pinching their thighs, a puff of air pushing out the front of the hood, along with a squeak of surprise. 'And she needs to learn to be quiet!' She pushed her palm against the hood, tightening it over their mouth, pinching their nostrils shut. 'So, Lilith, you in as well? Could give you a chance to demo one of your robo-trained pieces, I guess? Just maybe don't break them too much, this time? I've heard some of the staff complain about the mess when they forget their toilet training.' Lilith wrinkled her nose. 'Hmph. Yes, that was... an error. It could be fun though, I will have to see who I can... acquire.' Behind her, the nun was swaying slightly, desperately trying to inhale enough air to stay conscious. Her nipples were hard enough to be visible through her latex habit, hard nubs pushing it up, fingers twitching. Lilith pushed at her phone again and they relaxed slightly, suddenly allowed more air. 'And training from zero in a short time-frame... That can be a challenge. I have a prototype developed, but it needs more work...' She grinned, teeth as white as her skin, before tapping against her phone again, making notes. 'And no cheating or interference!' Persephone was still holding her hand over their mouth, starting to tear away the woman's dress, revealing their body beneath, currently unmarked - it would look a lot better with some whip-welts on their tanned skin! 'It'll be a lot more fun if it's a surprise for everyone.' The silk ripped, the dress falling away entirely, the woman's arms tensing up, unable to move to cover herself - beneath the dress, she was naked except for her heels, hood, collar and a thong, beads slid into her slit. 'Mpphh!' She tried to protest, but must have been gagged as well, Persephone rising from her seat. 'I'll need to get rid of this one then, as I'll have a new project. Hmmm, I wonder who would want her? She's barely used, still moans at every little hit.' She squeezed a breast, producing a long, whimpering whine of pain. 'Some people are into that. Well, I'll go find someone that wants her, shouldn't be hard.' Her other slave, still down on all fours, moved to stay close, kissing and licking at her legs, as she pulled on the leash, moving towards the stairs, ignoring the whining and whimpering from her hooded "friend". 'You got any plans for the rest of the night?' There was a polite but intrusive cough from behind, startling Helena, twisting around to see Yua, Lilith's secretary-assistant, in her tight pencil-skirt, fat metal collar bright around her neck, a computer tablet in her hands. 'Mistress Lilith, there is an issue in the conditioning chambers.' She bowed from the waist, Japanese-style, handing over the tablet. Lilith moved with sudden speed and animation, fingers flickering faster than Helena could follow, tapping away, skimming through video-feeds and thick lines of code, lost in solving whatever problem she was now solving. 'I guess you're busy then?' Lilith looked away for just long enough to give her a nod, before behind back to her task, Yua making supportive noises from behind her. 'Well, I'll leave you to it.' Helena looked over the balcony again - the crowd had gathered around the restrained staff-members, a third now on her knees and pressed into service as a fluffer, choking on a cock, guests fucking the two tied up women. Well, it was more interesting than watching Lilith do whatever she was doing. She slapped the backside of her seat and then gestured at the other one, before heading down herself, wanting to oversee the action.
Lilith looked at Yua, nodding in approval. The breathing mask on her face lent a certain cyberpunk look to her outfit, working well with the almost-sheer blouse and the tight pencil-skirt, the lines of a harness visible beneath, highlighting her breasts and hips. The woman's eyes were wide, flicking around nervously, her arms currently held horizontally, clipped to a metal bar that was attached to her collar. A chain hung from the ceiling, snapped onto her collar-ring, just in case she fell. Five-inch heels pushed her onto her toes, although she still managed to walk silently far too easily for Lilith's liking. Maybe a bell next? She would make a cute cat-girl, even if Lilith wasn't allowed to turn her into a full pet. 'Now, what happens when I do this...' Lilith slid her finger downwards along her tablet, the rest of the screen filled with Yua's vital signs, her heart rate and breathing already faster than normal. 'You may speak.' She could see Yua's face move, the mask not covering her cheeks, but there was no noise, Lilith counting in her head. 1... 2... 3... 'Please, Mistress, is this necessary?' Yua's voice came out of the mask, surprising even Yua, her eyes twitching nervously. 'Good, the delay works. It might be useful for those prone to speaking without thinking, to force a delay onto them. It can hold longer speech as well, but I've installed a cut off. Keep speaking.' Yua's jaw moved again, the mask firmly held in place, the edges elastic enough to allow it, but restricting the airflow. Three seconds later, her voice sounded out, saying something in neat, tidy Japanese, Lilith recognizing enough to realize that it wasn't rude, but was some sort of classical poem. Her eyes still darted about nervously, waiting for something to happen, before Lilith's screen flashed, and a red light shone on the mask. Three seconds later, there was a spluttering, choking sound, before the mask silenced that as well. Yua's face was changing color, her air supply cut off, and she couldn't remove the mask. 'Good. Talk too much, and be silenced. That should work - I don't think most workers need more than twenty seconds of speech. I'll have to test it on you and then adjust.' Now that the wearer wasn't speaking, the internal valve was slowly relaxing and allowing air through again, Yua's chest relaxing as she was able to breathe semi-freely again. 'I've integrated it with your harness, collar and belt as well. So this might happen...' She tapped her screen, setting everything to maximum. The harness started to tighten, a motor pulling it in around her body, and then electricity snapped, all her accessories shocking her. Yua probably gasped in pain, but the mask was smart enough to mute that sound, although the look of pain in her eyes was amusing. Yua's hands closed into fists, her legs twitching, heels clicking against the metal floor, some of the woman's annoyingly-strong self-control torn away. 'Good.' Lilith walked around Yua, admitting her slender body and toned legs. Definitely a good purchase - it was just annoying that she wasn't allowed to fully train the woman! All because she'd been late to a few meetings. Well, a lot of meetings. But that was because she'd been doing important work all through the night. And gaming. But mostly work! And now she had to have Yua reminding her of meetings all the time. She leaned forward, stroking at the woman's pert backside, tight and taut thanks to the heels, feeling the metal band of the chastity band locked tightly around them, a snug model, designed not to ruin the lines of their outfit. Yua whimpered when Lilith shook it, the connected plugs inside her body getting moved as well. 'Perhaps I should let you have some pleasure? Or perhaps see what happens if I set your collar to maximum? You lasted eight minutes before passing out last time - I wonder if you could manage more now?' Her capacity for pain was impressive, despite her small frame. Lilith curved her arm around, squeezing at a small, pert, breast, feeling the harness that embraced the petite woman's body. She could feel their heat through the latex, body hot from the panting and other torments. Such a loyal and obedient test subject! Even if the loyalty was sometimes to the organization rather than to Lilith personally. She pinched the breast, and then ran a hand along the mask, finding the manual override, and twisting it. It only took a second for Yua to respond, stiffening up, her body shuffling backwards against Lilith, who wrapped an arm around the woman's waist. It was delightful to feel the warmth of her body, chest straining for air, body getting even hotter as the mask took its toll. Lilith kept groping them, squeezing at a breast, smiling at the rapid fluttering of their heart, before twisting the dial again to let them inhale freely. The finished model would have to have that more carefully secured, to stop the wearer interfering with it, but the remote control should be used most of the time. She reached down and moved her hand between Yua's tensed thighs, pulling the skirt upwards, stroking at bare skin above stockings, then feeling at the chastity belt again. Just a tap, and she could feel the dildo shifting within them, juices oozing out around the edge. 'Such a good girl, polite and chaste. Although it's fun to watch you in pain - I'm surprised your last employers didn't just tie you over a desk and fuck you raw! In some ways, you should count yourself lucky to be mine.' Yua squirmed against her restraints, the neck-chain clicking and clinking, the electrical shocks more than Yua could manage. Lilith twisted the valve again, Yua sagging, head falling to the side before she was able to collect herself. Lilith added the delay again, able to feel Yua speaking before anything could be heard. 'Mistress, I have compiled the requested research.' Through the mask, Yua's voice sounded flatter than usual - maybe better quality speakers on the next model? 'Excellent. How many possible candidates?' Being able to see Yua's jaw move and then wait before the response was a little irritating, so Lilith removed the time delay. 'Fourteen so far. Would Mistress Lilith care to review them?' Lilith moved in close, groping at the captive woman again, tightening up the head-band of the mask to make sure that her airflow was properly restricted, then feeling at the belt, tapping the metal between her legs, able to feel the sigh that ran through Yua's body. Maybe she should let them have some pleasure? Well, maybe, eventually. She unclipped the neck-chain, Yua rocking slightly but able to support herself, her voice now in real time, without any delay. 'That device is effective.' 'Good. I think I might install it on a few of the house staff - if they don't do their work promptly, then they might loose their breathing privileges. That should teach them. And some of our office workers could do with being forcibly silenced if they talk too much.' The harness only slowly eased off, still a tight fit, but no longer pinching as deeply into Yua's skin. It was tempting to play with the woman more, but she had to find a suitable test subject to present to train and present to her father for his birthday! Yua stepped forward, somehow managing to move silently despite the metal floor and her high stiletto heels. So annoying! A bell was definitely needed, even if it might clash with the sleek office fuck-toy look. 'The files have been sent to you. If I may review them for you, Mistress?' 'Begin.' 'Commence candidate review.' Her voice was louder now, the room picking it up, a projector whirring into life and shedding light onto the far wall, other lights dimming. A whimper came from the corner where a female test-subject was locked into a cage, just their head poking out of the top, heavy fetters locking their wrists to their ankles, metal prongs holding their mouth open, their ears plugged, eyes hidden behind a leather blindfold. Their body was forced into a tight bundle, signs of punishment visible on their bare skin, fresh and raw. Lilith stalked towards them, turning to see as the first candidate was shown on screen. It was a picture of a young woman, wearing a flattering and expensive-looking trouser suit. Short and punky black hair - that wasn't good, that would need growing out into something more feminine. Some qualifications - business degree, pictures showing her modelling in lingerie, expensive lace flattering her slender curves. An office worker by day, working as a junior VP already, and modelling at night? Aside from the hair, she looked good, but seemed a bit bland, without much appeal beyond simply being attractive. How would she take to the whip? Probably not well, but without knowing what was happening. 'Next!' As Lilith barked the command, the projection changed. The next candidate was older, more mature, although still attractive - late 30's, her skin tanned, long blonde hair. A video started to play - her, tied onto a cross, blindfolded, being whipped, her large breasts jiggling with every impact. Lilith shook her head - she wanted to train someone from fresh, without any pre-existing preferences. 'Next!' She grabbed the cage and dragged it forward, glad that it was on wheels to make this easier, turning it around, the occupant gulping uncertainly and making a strange warbling nouse, the metal bars digging into either side of their mouth, forcing it fully wide and open, tongue flapping. With that done, she was able to sit on the cage, pulling up her mini-dress in preparation. As she shuffled into position, she scrutinized the next candidate -Indian, with glorious black hair, falling to their waist in a long black stream. Henna tattoos inked onto her skin, cum smeared over breasts, large dark eyes. And a healthy subscriber count! Would that make it easier or harder to acquire her? Maybe they would pay more to see her trained and broken? She seemed to like it rough, taking multiple partners at once, sandwiched between them, body glazed with sweat and cum. No evidence of women at all though - she'd need training in eating women out, then, even if she was a present for a man. And if she was putting in the work, then Lilith wanted some pleasure in doing it! She shuffled herself forward on top of the cage, taking hold of the head of the captive, fingers twisting through their soft, smooth hair, taking a good grip, enjoying their gasp of pain as she tugged on it. Their tongue slid between her thighs, soft and wet, their training taking hold, tongue soon flicking over her slit, around and around, starting to warm her up. The next one was younger - mid-twenties - and Lilith stared at her. She was familiar from somewhere - neat auburn-red hair, shiny and glossy, falling partway down her red suit-jacket, her skirt tight and short. A golden teardrop necklace shone brightly, the pictures looking like they were from something formal and proper, rather than a screenshot from a stream. More pictures followed, these more typical, showing the woman with her legs spread, touching and teasing herself atop a bed, a vibrating dildo pushed deep into herself, faced contorted with either pleasure, or an acceptably good imitation of such. Fairly normal, mundane stuff, without any interesting concept, or even very good toys. What was her name? It was given as "Scarlet Enchantment". But Lilith had seen her somewhere else... She closed her eyes, focusing through the rising pleasure from between her legs, the tongue now penetrating deeper, the metal bars cold and uncomfortable against her legs. The same woman, but in a smart office environment, a domino mask covering her face, flicking a whip at an unpleasantly tubby gentleman, bent over a desk. The scene had been in low light, adding to the mystery of the woman, a smart blouse complimented by a corset, high heels... As the tonguing continued, Lilith stroked the head between her legs, encouraging them further. A camgirl wasn't that interesting, but one that was a dominatrix? Breaking a dominant was always a pleasure, and dangling out the carrot of control could be enticing, to allow her the illusion of control in exchange for obedience. But what name had that been under? She resisted the urge to try and look through her folders of images and movies, knowing that would be endlessly distracting - instead she let the pleasure tingle up through from the tongue writhing inside of her, rocking her hips back and forth, feeling it start to come to a peak, staring at the woman's image. Yes, although the one on the pictures was bland and dull, she had definitely seen her in a more interesting setup. The tongue continued to slide around, having to stretch out past the mouth-stretching metal rods, but the woman was skilled. Lilith came, pushing herself forward into the face of whoever was between her legs, ignoring their splutters, her mind going blissfully blank for a moment. As she started to recover, a name rose up in her consciousness. 'Search for Scarlet Rigan.' The presentation vanished, to be replaced by a browser window, showing an art gallery in Texas. She started to refine the query, having to skip through a lot of broken links, videos that had been removed and webpages that no longer existed. Eventually, she managed to find the video she remembered though - the man was as unappealing as before, but the woman - definitely the same one - was far better dressed, moving with an alluring poise, her outfit snug, sexual without being too revealing. What had happened to make her just do normal, boring porn? Some trauma? Moved away? But she looked fantastic as a domme, and the thought of taking that self-assured power and dominance, and taming it... Hmmm, it sent another tingle through her crotch and belly. A nice, obedient toy-domme - that would be a good gift, surely? And if she wasn't, then there would be a good market for her elsewhere - going from powerful and commanding to whimpering and obedient in a moment was a popular fantasy. She let the captive lick her again, cleaning up the aftermath of her pleasure, then patted them on the head and pulled away, tweaking her dress down. 'Yua, this is the one. She can probably be hired - arrange a session. Somewhere with appropriate facilities, and where she won't be able to run away, but that won't scare her away.' Yua's bow was awkward, arms still locked horizontally to her neck, Lilith resisting the temptation to pull her over. 'Yes, Mistress Lilith. Would you like any assistance?' 'Hmm, I suppose you can make yourself useful. Having another pair of hands to hold her down can be useful. And to get her into a transport crate or something - I've got some time to train her, but the more compliant she is to start with, then the easier things will be. Oh, and get the appropriate equipment - whatever she has, probably won't be very good. And see if you can find out anything more about her background.' 'Yes, Mistress. And I will have equipment prepared here - is there any conditioning program you want to subject her to?' 'I think something custom. But a week or two in isolation, without anything, will soften her up, especially without sleep.' She stood up, kicking at the cage, sending it rolling away, until it smacked against the wall. 'Yes, that will do to start with. And I can try to set up some of the appropriate mental triggers. But I'll have to do it without breaking her utterly - it would be better if she could still function as a dominant, when required, and then submit on command. Hmmm, that might be quite appealing - a toy-domme, bound and obedient.' Having the look of a dominatrix, but able to be used and abused like a submissive toy - that would be an appropriate gift, surely? Yua was already making commands, setting up bookings and arrangements, managing to make herself heard despite the breathing mask. She really was well-trained! Perhaps it would be interesting to see how well she took to a more active role in training? Persephone's Woman: Finding a New Model Chapter Ten: Finding a New Model Persephone sank her fingers into Maria's hips, feeling the soft skin yield under her grip, any protest Maria might have made stifled by a fat gag. The double strap-on forced open both of Maria's holes, stretching out the woman's pussy and asshole, clear lube helping them slide in and out. Maria was tied into place, bent over at the waist, straps wound over her back to pinion her against the body, more holding her legs in place, heels locked into place to keep her legs nice and tense. A mirror let Persephone see Maria's face, eyes vague and distant, her arms lashed in place. Her soft skin bore marks of other punishment - whip- and cane-welts marred the flesh, some starting to heal, others mottled and ugly. Persephone reached down and pushed her fingers against one, hearing the tone of Maria's panting groans change from the additional pain. Good - she wasn't entirely numb yet! It was always disappointing when people retreated into themselves, and became too hard to reach. Lilith could sometimes draw them out, with her creepy VR helmets and other technology, but that seemed a lot of work. It was easier just to ride them until they broke, and then let them recover. As she thrust away, her short, silk robe shifted slightly on her skin, smooth and comfortable, the cord around her waist keeping it shut. Although it would be a while before Maria was able to do any modelling work that required independent though. With enough prodding and prompting, she could be induced to pose, but getting a lively expression from her was quite a challenge! Still, her holes were tight and wet, and her will wasn't yet entirely gone, plaintive groans coming from behind the gag, along with thick ropes of spittle, splashing out and hitting the ground. Persephone thrust her hips forward, burying the full length of both of the cocks inside of Maria, holding them there as she raked her nails down Maria's back, leaving red furrows there. She'd have to make sure Maria had time to heal up before another photoshoot - well, she could do that while in the bitch-suit. Especially now she was starting to properly adjust to, and accept, her place, and get used to crawling around, locked onto all fours, with a tail firmly lodged between her ass-cheeks. As long as she didn't lose the ability to speak! It would still be useful to roll her out as a model sometimes, just to remind her what she had lost. She left the cocks in place as she unstrapped it from around her strap, Maria's holes firmly stuffed, then slapped Maria's ass, enjoying the sound and feeling of the impact, Maria's head shaking, dislodging more ropes of spittle. A whimper came from behind her, and she turned towards t. Chains clinked, another gagged mouth gasping, Persephone picking up a discarded crop and flicking it against the bare belly of another woman. They were hanging from their wrists, feet only barely touching the floor, a blindfold over her eyes. The padded cuffs bit into her wrists, mottling the skin, spit staining her chin. Persephone struck her with the crop again, enjoying the pathetic whimper of pain. It was satisfying, but the woman had all-but-broken from a single session! Somebody with that little stamina was worthless to her, even if she was otherwise attractive. Vague, mumbled pleading mumbled out from behind the gag, along with a fresh torrent of spittle. Persephone altered her angle of attack, slicing the crop-head to hit against the woman's shaven slit, enjoying the whimper of pain. Now she'd have to deal with them as well! Who could she offload the woman onto? Someone in Europe, maybe? She'd look good, wrapped in silk, leather or latex, but she'd need poking and prodding into being functional. They hung there, limp and passive, mostly broken even just from some light punishment. She'd ended up devastated if treated to anything harsher! At least it would be easy to box her up and ship her somewhere. Another crop-strike, and another desperate whimper, legs twitching, straining to shift into a protective position, and Persephone walked away, before slapping her palm against the intercom button. The screen flashed on, showing a latex-wrapped woman, face covered with a shiny-smooth muzzle, eyes looking at her. 'Send a team up, I'm going to need a casket. Long-distance.' The head bobbed down in a nod, raven-black hair as sleek and shiny as the latex suit. She'd have to find another candidate now! None of the models she knew were suitable, being too fragile, brittle, famous or otherwise problematic. Where else could she find someone that would be a suitable gift? She wanted someone that was more than just attractive, that had some special skill or utility, rather than just being another fuck-doll. There was no shortage of them! The door to her room slid open, two women entering. The one leading was shorter than Persephone, her leotard sleek white, a red cross on each breast, bulky pouches around her waist, legs sheathed in white latex stockings, arms wrapped in white. Behind her, on a leash, was a regular member of staff, wearing a black leotard, pushing along a heavy cart, a body-shaped sarcophagus-casket laying on top and securely muzzled. The one in white stopped, looking at Persephone and dipping her head in a bow. Her face was covered by a half-mask of latex, but it didn't seal her mouth, just helping to conceal her identity. 'This one. I'll help pack her up.' 'Yes, Ma'am. Thank you, Mistress Persephone.' With a tug on the leash, the woman advanced on the captive model. 'How far is she being transported?' 'Asia, maybe?' 'Very well.' She turned and tapped on the cart, her assistant stopping and opening it up, revealing an array of drugs and packing equipment. The latex hugged the woman's body, highlighting every curve of her body, a scant thong between plump, pert buttocks. Chains rattled, the model seeing what was coming, summoning up some strength to resist, despite not even being in touch with the floor. Persephone picked up a long roll of strong, clear film on a roll, and peeled off the end. 'It's always fun wrapping someone up! Like Christmas, but in reverse.' It was best to start from the bottom and work up, so she pushed the film against and leg and made a quick motion, to start pulling the legs together, binding them tightly. A few more wraps and it bound the legs tightly, beneath the knee, strong enough to resist the woman's wriggles, before she started to wrap upwards, between their thighs. The doctor approached, loading a syringe from a vial, tapping it and holding it up. Persephone could feel the legs tense through the wrap, feet wriggling, but without the strength to break free. 'If you dare dribble on me, I'll make this even worse.' She smiled to herself when she heard a desperate sucking noise from above her. 'Good. If you obey, then this might not even be that bad.' It was fun to wrap the film, pulling it tightly around the woman, until she was wrapped all the way up to crotch-level. The doctor jabbed forward, needle sinking into an arm, as the model went limp, although she was still conscious. 'She'll need plugging. Don't want any leakages on the way. ' Persephone angled the film steeply, wrapping up over a firm, trim belly, unable to resist the temptation to poke a finger into the cleft, feeling the warmth of her body, the soft suppleness of her skin, before sealing it away beneath the plastic film. She made sure to wind it tightly, so that it followed the hourglass-curve of the woman's waist, lightly tickling them before sealing the flesh away. They twitched faintly, body not completely numb. The doctor's gloved hands were above Persephone's head, stroking at nipples before attaching suction cups, air hissing as it was extracted, stretching the nubs out, wires inside the transparent plastic poking against the skin. 'I'll prep her for sleep deprivation. Not that it seems she needs it.' 'She was very soft, yeah. I was hoping she wouldn't break quite so easily.' From down on her knees, she could see up the latex mini-dress of the doctor (although it was hard not to think of her as a nurse), flesh squidging out slightly above the tops of the latex stockings, metal locked around their privates. She seemed skilled, her hands swift and confident, rubbing gel against the captive's neck, a stinging scent as sweat was cleaned away. 'A full collar, Mistress Persephone?' 'Yes. Get some stats for Lilith, I guess.' Fingers snapped in command, a heavy metal shock-collar being handed over, sensors on the inside. 'Can you register her as well? Never got around to doing it myself, I suppose she needs a number. In the "pleasure" series, I think? Might be able to get some use for her that way. She's too soft and pampered to be very useful though.' 'Of course. Will she need marking?' 'Not right now. A tat or brand would probably break her utterly.' Persephone couldn't resist reaching out and groping the doctor's ass, feeling the warm curve, large enough to sink her fingers into. The doctor shivered, as she leaned in to wrap the collar around the model's neck, having to hold their sagging head up. Getting hold of dedicated medical staff was something of a problem - it took a lot of training, apparently, and those of the right inclination were hard to find. The doctor was pushing back against her groping hand, twisting into it, a faint purr coming from behind her mask, before the collar clicked shut and activated, lights starting to blink in time with the model's pulse, slow and steady. Persephone slapped the plump ass, then stood up, enjoying the sight of plastic-wrapped legs, feet dangling beneath. Latex fingers reached forward and started to tickle the cunt, smearing lube inside of it, and then a complicated dildo-device slid in, plugging the woman up, a plug-tube getting shoved into their asshole. 'That will get her clean. And keep her entertained.' Even with the mask, Persephone could still see that there was a faint pink tinge on the woman's cheeks, from just that slight touch, her nipples pushing against the latex dress. Despite that, her voice was still professional, as she turned to address her assistant. 'You. Help me get her down.' Persephone enjoyed herself wrapping the film upwards now, tightly sealing their crotch, now they were fully plugged, making sure the items couldn't be pushed out. It would do the woman good to have some discipline! Black-wrapped hands came around the model's waist, lifting them up, as the doctor reached upwards towards the cuff. The motion made her dress ride up, revealing even more of that ass, the metal band standing out between her buttocks, Persephone having to resist the urge to spank it. Maybe later! Arms dropped down, limp and floppy, bruise marks forming on wrists. Persephone leaned in, wrapping their arms up, the assistant using thicker black tape to form their hands into balled-up fists, just in case they tried to escape. She had to go slowly over their breasts, making sure not to pull the suction cups off, making sure they were still accessible to wire up. They were now mostly-mummified, the collar holding their neck up, eyes wide with panic. 'Please stand back, Mistress. It would be a shame if your outfit were to be ruined.' Persephone used her nails to slice through the plastic, after giving it a final roll around the body, tucking it beneath the collar, making sure not to block any of the electrodes or sensors, then stood back. The doctor moved with swift efficiency, light shining off their dress and arms, their own collar lighter - she must have shown her obedience to earn that model! She reached out, lightly stroking their back, enjoying the way the woman shivered, as she removed the gag from the model's mouth, giving them a slap to turn their head, so their dribble oozed onto their own shoulder. Fingers dug into cheeks to force the jaw open, a double-ring gag going behind and in front of teeth, the tongue getting pulled around to not get in the way. As a dildo-gag was slid into place, Persephone slid her own hands around the doctor's body, feeling their breasts, wrapped in the tight dress, cupping and squeezing them. On the back of the woman's neck was a small ID number, neatly tattooed onto their skin. Persephone nibbled the skin, rubbing her crotch against their leg, enjoying the firmness of their body, admiring the swift efficiency with which a dildo-gag was pushed into the rings, then strapped into place, plugging their mouth. 'Mmmm...' The doctor rubbed back against Persephone, their body-heat coming through the thin dress. 'Do you want her hair trimmed, or shorn?' 'No, leave it. Someone can wash it at the other end. And give her a wash, she'll be a bit sweaty. Unless we've got a customer into that.' She dropped her hand down, pressing against their belly, then feeling between their legs, tapping and pressing against the crotch-panel of the belt. The response was swift, breathing increasing, although their hands remained steady, yanking the model's head up by the hair. She was moving her hips herself now, slowly grinding against Persephone, despite the belt. 'I will... prep her for... transport.' Persephone moved with her as she continued to prepare the model, enjoying the soft groans and gasps, combined with their obvious competency and skill, tubes and wires connecting into breasts, ass and pussy, to keep them fed and stimulated as they travelled. The model's eyes were darting around in panic, cloudy and glazed, their body held upright in the film, stiff and inflexible. 'I would, ah... recommend a head... headset for... further condi...' She trailed off as Persephone kissed them again, stroking them through their dress. 'What was that?' 'A headseeeeeeeeeeeeet...' The word came out in a long, desperate hiss as Persephone squeezed a breast harder, taking the nipple between her fingers, kissing her just beneath her collar, enjoying the scent of clean skin. 'For... further... conditioning...' She must have been in chastity for quite some time to be this sensitive! It was a delight to tease her though, even a disciplined mind unable to control bodily yearnings. And Persephone's own body was reacting, her own pussy warming and moistening, as she rubbed herself against them. Persephone slapped their ass again, the sound sharp and harsh, making them drop the hose they were lifting up. 'You'll have to pick that up.' When the woman bent over, it made the dress ride up over their hips, putting their backside and belt fully on display, along with a lovely red hand-mark from the spank. Persephone put her hand over the mark, slowly grabbing and compressing the lovely, soft flesh, feeling it shift as the doctor stood up, connecting the hose into the mouth-dildo. The model was now fully mummified and wrapped, body supported by the tape, letting her be moved without fear of trailing limbs. The other ends of the tubes and wires weren't yet connected, but the assistant was opening up the casket, releasing all of the straps. Persephone continued to molest the doctor, enjoying the feeling of their warm and yielding backside, their gasping getting louder and louder, their body sagging backwards against Persephone's. 'Guess you don't get much time to rest?' 'No, MistreSSSSSSSS...' Another pinch turned the words into a low moan, Persephone chuckling. 'Perhaps I should look for an assistant for you? Perhaps if you could recommend anyone you used to work with, then you might have some more free time?' She pressed her hand against their chastity belt, pushing it against their crotch, making them twitch and twist against her, all melting softness, wrapped up in latex. Persephone turned around, dragging the warm weight of the doctor around, teasing her as the assistant picked the model up, shoving them into the casket, the model's eyes wide with terror, breath coming in panicked pants. The drug was starting to wear off, their feet twitching, but the casket-straps snapped tightly over their body, wires and tubes connecting into the casket, air, electricity and fluids flowing. And then the casket-lid closed, sealing them away into the roughly-feminine box, lights on the outside beeping green, to show their vitals were steady. 'If you know of a free-range doctor that could be... acquired, then let me know. I think that would be a valuable addition, do you not?' 'Mpphhhh...' The woman's hips slowly pulsed against her fingers, pressing the chastity belt forward, desperate for more contact. 'I may do...' A beeping started, getting steadily louder and faster, until it was an ear-piercing whine. It was coming from the doctor's wrist, and she started to struggle against Persephone, but only weakly. 'I am... needed elsewhere...' Persephone gave her another full-body stroke, reveling in the feeling of their body, then let go, smiling as she saw them struggle to stay standing, just about managing it. The loud screeching continued until they tapped their wrist, movements slowed by lust, before they stagger-walked towards the door, then remembered themselves, turning back to Persephone and bowing again, trying to tug their dress back down into place. The attendant turned to leave with them, before Persephone spoke to them. 'Stay. The doctor has other business, but you can pleasure me.' That had left her horny, and Maria needed some rest to not be entirely broken, so she would need to get her pleasure elsewhere! Helena's Woman: Crafting a Weapon Chapter Seventeen: First Meeting Jade shifted her balance, her weight on her toes, light and agile, swaying from side to side, her fists raised and ready. The punch came in, and she raised one arm to deflect it, feeling the force of the impact run through her. Her opponent over-extended, leaning too far into the punch. Jade grinned, snapping her own body forward, settling her weight more securely as she whipped her shoulder forward, aligning her body behind her owner strike. Too late, her opponent tried to defend herself, twisting her torso to try and defend herself. She couldn't get out of reach, Jade's fist slamming straight into their chest, hard enough that Jade could feel the bones. And then she moved in close, a swift punch-combo, inside their guard, swift jabs and strikes over their torso, keeping them staggered and dazed. Arms wrapped around her, a sudden grab, and they dropped their weight downwards. Time to take it to the mat! Jade bit into her mouthguard, tensing her jaw up, ducking her head into her shoulders, letting the weight bear her to the ground, still hammering hit after hit into the open torso. She had the perfect angle for several kidney-shots, hearing her opponent gasp, the grip loosening, just for a moment. Their heads knocked together, dazing her, her body acting on instinct, using her legs to tangle up those of her opponent, not wanting to get locked up. All they could do was tighten up their grapple, trying to crush her body, squash the breath from her. But every punch made their grip judder and get weaker, the impacts slamming home. They locked eyes, both staring each other down, their feet scrabbling against the mat. Jade growled, feeling adrenaline pour through her veins, hot and powerful and strong. There was no time to think, no use in the delay of consciously choosing movements, squeezing in with an elbow, wrapping an arm around the other woman's neck, sliding into a lock. With her other hand, she punched them, just beneath their ribs, smiling harder when she heard their pained grunt. They kept wriggling, Jade spreading her legs to keep pinning the other woman down, their bodies pushing together, hot and sweaty. They couldn't escape, no matter how they squirmed, and she could feel their breathing, their pulse, through her arm, her limb pressed tightly against their neck. The woman's struggles started to slow, her limbs moving with less power. Then, with a sudden surge, she tried to fight back, a last surge, before her strength gave up entirely. A punch hit Jade, on her flank, and she accepted it, the pain rippling through her, subsumed into her own power, easy to ignore. Each hit was weaker and weaker, hitting with less and less force. Her eyelids flickered, struggling to hold on, Jade tightening her grip, punching them again, beneath the ribs, feeling the air pulse out of her target's lungs. An arm stretched out, before the woman sagged down, limp, barely responsive. Hands grabbed at Jade from behind, pulling her away, her hands reaching out to attack again, the referee's words barely registering through her mentality. She wanted to fight! '10! She's out!' Jade continued to struggle against being held, before cold water was poured over her head, shaking her out of her battle-focus. She stopped moving, for long enough to be released, the referee walking over and taking her hand, holding it up. The crowd roared, Jade feeling the strains of the fight starting to flow through her as the adrenaline faded. 'Jade Portwood, the London Lioness, takes the win!' Jade raised her other hand, bathing in the roars and cheers, as her opponent slowly roused herself, faded and drained. Sweat clung to her body, making her shiny and slippery, her only clothing her sports top and a pair of tight shorts, as well as her combat gear - padded gloves, her feet bare. Her hair clung to her forehead, sweat plastering dirty blonde hair into place, before she flicked it aside, the taste of salt in her mouth, sweat and blood both. After raising her arms into the air, and bathing in the roars of the crowd, she walked out of the octagon, back to her changing room. As soon as the door closed, she took her gloves off, tossing them aside, slamming her palms together with a loud clap, enjoying the sheer power of her body. Then she pulled her top off, having to peel it away from her sweaty skin, her small breasts pert and firm. Bruises were starting to form down her side, a particularly large one on her chest, making her wince when she poked the wine-dark blob. Sweat slicked her body, warm and sticky, her tight shorts clinging to her body. Jade stroked one of her breasts, savoring the gentle touch, lightly running her fingers over a nipple. She'd won, so she was going to treat herself - she pulled her shorts down, tearing them off her body, leaving her completely naked, continuing to stroke one breast. With her other hand, she felt down her chest, feeling the muscles there, hard and toned, her body perfected by hours in the gym. It only took a few gentle touches to warm herself up, another warmth stirring inside of her, her slit opening up to her fingers, her own fluids letting her finger herself. She started to rock her hips back and forth, her other hand playing with her breasts still, rolling around the nipple. Hot, heavy fuzz returned to her brain, but lust rather than fury this time, her fingers curving and curling inwards, spreading herself wide, her fingers flicking over her clit. Her breathing quickened, to be as fast as it had been when fighting, her heart racing, body filled with energy and power. The orgasm was swift and powerful, as she fell against a locker with a clang, the metal cooling her body as she leaned against it, body limp as she slumped down onto the bench. 'Congratulations.' The voice was cool and amused, and slightly American. Jade opened up her eyes, ready to throw someone out. It was a woman, a redhead in a long, black leather coat and a high-necked top beneath, thigh-high leather boots visible beneath the jacket. 'Been a while since I've seen a fight that one-sided.' The woman seemed entirely unphased by Jade's nudity, looking down at her, cool and confident. 'I represent one of your sponsors.' Shit. Crazy fangirls she could handle, but sponsors she had to be nice to! Or at least not physically assault. Jade made herself smile, the post-fight and post-fuck tiredness washing through her. 'It's a bit last minute, but a photoshoot has been arranged. Nothing too arduous, given you've just fought, but everything has been arranged. Along with some custom clothing. Here, take this - you need to refresh yourself as well.' She reached into her pocket, pulling out a large plastic pouch, sealed but with a straw attached, giving it a shake before handing it over. 'It's a custom blend, but should suit your build. And it's got everything you need for post-fight recovery.' There was an ID code stamped onto the foil package, but no logo or branding. Jade shoved the straw in, puncturing the seal with a jab, then sucking at the contents, pushing her shoulders back against the locker, shoulders wide, spreading her legs. The stuff tasted better than most food-shakes, a salty-sweat flavor, with a rich and satisfying texture, slaking her thirst, replacing the fluids she had lost in the bout. 'That's pretty good! You a fighter?' It was hard to see with that long coat, but the woman held herself well, her hands looking firm, the hint of muscles visible - even if she couldn't fight, she looked quite strong and fit. The red-head smiled. 'I dabble. Not as much as I would like to, but I know what your body needs.' Jade sucked on the straw again, the pack shrinking away in her hand. There was still a fuzz in her brain, but at least she wasn't thirsty anymore. 'What the hell am I modelling now? And I'm all sweaty.' 'That won't be a problem. It's for the training bodysuits, so they're designed to deal with such things.' Jade vaguely remembered the contracts - some slightly techy training suit, sleek and tight, that she'd agreed to model. 'Your victory will help with sales, I'm sure. And it's always useful to collect more data. One was delivered earlier, if you want to get changed?' Jade just wanted to go home and relax! But the quickest way was just to go along with it. She looked around - there was a long envelope on the benches, which she opened up. Inside was a sleek, black singlet made of lycra, strung through with some other material, stiff amongst the stretchy floppiness. It was easy to pull on, sliding her legs through it, feeling it nestle, snug and tight, against her crotch, before pulling it over her chest, onto her shoulders. It was snug against her body, the lycra shaping itself to her form. It was even tighter around her neck, with long sleeves coming to her wrists. It wasn't just lycra - she could feel stiffer threads throughout, as well as metal pads against her body. There was a belt, thicker than it needed to be, probably packed with batteries and other technology. 'Pulse monitors?' 'And some other things. It's very advanced - and made to be tough enough to deal with training needs. It shouldn't get in the way of your training.' Jade stretched, twisting her arms around her head, then moving into a fighting stance, delivering a few swift punches, powerful and fast, putting her weight behind them. The woman watched her movements, eyes sharp, still smiling faintly. 'It suits you.' It was tighter around the neck than Jade liked, and she could feel it stretching as she moved. Not enough to restrict her, but it added resistance to her movements, even if just a little bit. The belt was tight around her waist, comfortable and tight. It was well-made, although she didn't need the pressure and support around her body - she could fight just as well naked! Her thoughts were still fuzzy - the post-fight wank was lingering longer than it normally did, a thin fuzz lingering in her mind. 'I've arranged somewhere close by for the photos to be taken.' She reached forward, moving with deliberate slowness, her hand sliding across Jade's cheek, tilting her head upwards and looking into her eyes. 'I don't think any cosmetics will be needed - your natural looks are enough. Especially just after a victory!' Her hand slid around the neck of the singlet, Jade snapping her hand up, grabbing the woman's wrist. She didn't like to be stroked and prodded, she wasn't some object! Despite the strength of Jade's grip, the woman didn't look away or show pain, as her hand was pulled aside. 'Let's go get this over with then.' She launched a few more strikes, aiming wide, the woman not flinching away, as Jade's fists sliced through the air. 'Yes. This way.' The woman's coat flicked out as she spun and walked away, stride confident and strong. Jade followed along behind, still barefoot, swinging her shoulders, psyching herself up for another fight. They moved through bare concrete back-halls, with a few members of staff bustling about, getting the next fight ready, keeping everything running. 'My name is Helena Brimstone. I will be working with you, in your capacity as brand representative.' Jade rolled her eyes. She didn't care about that, she just wanted to fight! But if she wanted to compete seriously, then she needed sponsors, even if it meant dealing with people like this. And at least this woman wasn't creepy or weird, and managed to wear her slightly odd clothing well - she looked like an actress in a movie, with those thigh-high boots and that long coat, her hair sleek and vivid, especially against the dull grey walls of the hallways down here. She stopped in front of a door and shoved it open, revealing a miscellaneous store-room, assorted boxes and crates shoved up against the wall. A small photography area had been set up, with a white sheet for a backdrop, a box of props on the floor. Two more women were there, dressed in tight, shiny trousers and tops. And... were they twins? They looked similar, right down to their blonde and perfect hairstyles! And with heavy metal bands around their necks - were those heavy-duty health monitors? She shivered - she didn't want to wear anything like that herself! 'Consider this as a strength test, as well as a photoshoot. I look forward to seeing just what that body of yours can do.' She turned back around to face Jade, reaching out as though to stroke at Jade's body. She ducked backwards, not wanting to be touched, Helena's smile widening. The other two women bustled around, fiddling with flash-bulbs and other photography gear, as Jade stepped around Helena, striding towards the photography area. A heavy concrete block had been placed there, with a metal pole sticking up, topped with a ring. Next to that, on the floor, there were various straps and other items, things that looked like exercise bands, as well as rolls of tape. 'I was thinking we could show off your sheer strength. As well as how good you look!' Despite herself, Jade smiled at the praise, before grabbing at the metal pole. It was rough and worn, looking to have come from a building site somewhere, still covered with grit, the concrete block rough and uneven. She strained, pulling on it, feeling the muscles of her body straining, surging with power, only able to make it rock slightly. She took a deep breath, then tried again, leaning into it, feeling it bite into her hands, knuckles still sore from the fight. It moved, just slightly, the stone block rocking slightly. She could feel the metal shaft rocking slightly within the concrete, but it was too tightly bound to shake free. 'I don't think those will be strong enough, but I guess you want me to look good.' She picked up some cuffs leather cuffs, joined with metal chains, made of gaudy, shiny brass. The leather was soft, sliding onto her wrists, as she slid the chain through the loop, then buckled them into place. She turned towards the camera, putting one foot on the block, posing as camera-flashes burst and strobed, dazzling her eyes. With one hand, she gripped onto the ring, pulling the other backwards, feeling the chain snap taut. The links snapped against each other, and she strained, bracing herself against the pole. The metal of the links started to bend, the links weak, and she relaxed, and then yanked her arms apart. One of the links popped, the metal bending completely out of shape. She turned, making sure to show off her tattoo, a lion's head and mane on her shoulder. The extra strain was making her warm up again, the outfit feeling tight an snug and warm, the metal pads adhering to her body. It added a little bit of extra strain and resistance, but not enough to make much difference, as she pulled her wrists apart, the chain now broken in half. 'Got anything stronger?' She unbuckled the cuffs, tossing them aside. There was an rubbery, stretchy-looking band, with plastic cuffs on either end, which she put on, again using the ring to wind the band through. She started pumping her arms, snapping the band to its fullest each time. She could feel the strain building within her body, a pleasing warmth building up as her body was used, her muscles exerting themselves upon the world. The band snapped taut, pulling tightly against the ring, and she could feel it getting stretched as far as it could go. As soon as she relaxed, it pulled back, jerking on her arms. She grinned, only slowly relaxing, not letting the band overpower her, only slowly getting pulled around. Then she twisted her arms, jerking and pulling harder, the band rubbing over the ring, again and again. As she pulled on it, she looked up, smiling towards the camera, the twins moving around to take pictures from different angles. Helena was watching with a patient smile, calm and collected. The band stretched, tightening as it reached it's limit. It was straining her to keep it stretched out, but the band was tight, and she could see it starting to fray, one edge peeling. With a sudden, sharp snap, it broke apart, and she turned her head, one end of it slapping against her cheek, hitting with a slapping impact, making her cheek sting. Helena approached, stooping to pick up red rope. 'Impressive! I think that was a worse blow than your opponent managed to deliver.' Just mentioning it made Jade's ribs ache, still sore from the impacts, but she smiled, twisting off the cuffs of the bands. 'Rope? That's not really an exercise thing, is it?' 'It may present a little more of a challenge. As you've already broken out of two things!' Helena pulled the rope tight, Jade rolling her eyes again and then pushing a hand through the ring. Helena descended, looping the rope around Jade's wrist, pulling it tight, and then wrapping the rope first around the ring, and then Jade's other wrist. She moved with smooth and practiced ease, the rope flowing around in smooth movements, pulling Jade's wrists against the metal. It was rough and slightly prickly, digging into her wrists, but she let Helena continue, rope sliding against rope to form tight, hard knots. Helena reached up, stroking her hand against Jade's neck, making her flinch away. Something jabbed into her skin, a brief stab, before Helena stepped back and nodded. 'Let's see how that holds you.' Jade twisted her wrists, feeling the rope bite into her skin. It was tight enough that she couldn't just pull her hands out, scratching her skin, already damp with sweat. She strained harder, pulling with more force, the rope stronger than it looked. She'd broken a chain, she wasn't going to let a rope defeat her! The knots held fast, out of reach of her fingers, and the construction of knots was tight enough that she couldn't even slide a finger beneath it. She tried pulling her wrists in opposite directions, feeling the rope bite into her wrists, against the veins there. She kept pulling, tightening up her muscles, the ropes rough against the tendons. That still didn't open up any space! The rope was too tight, and too well tied, rubbing and scraping her flesh, her sweat starting to soak into it. She grunted in irritation, looking at Helena, who was now smirking at her, a flash of irritation burning through her. Bitch! The suit was reacting to her warmth, getting even more snug, the metal bands increasing their resistance, or maybe she was weakening, as she continued to struggle. A slow numbness was spreading down her body, from her neck, making her movements slower. She kept fighting against the ropes around her wrists, ignoring the slight scratching pain as the cords chafed at her skin, fighting to get out. It was just rope, it couldn't be that tough! But it was strong, impossible to snap, and twisted around and knotted on itself, without any weaknesses she could pull on, and without anywhere she could slide a finger to relieve the pressure. The suit felt like it was getting tighter, making her muscles strain more, her chest and belly getting compressed. She gulped in air, forcing herself as much as she could, straining her back. The heavy lump of concrete rocked as she yanked, using the full weight of her body, a scraping pain coming from her wrists, the ropes causing friction burns. Her vision blurred for a moment, but there was still no release from the ropes. Her heart was hammering in her chest, the edges of her vision growing dark. The lump of concrete rocked again, the pole shaking, getting looser but still stuck in place. Her strength faded, her body slipping from her control, sight growing dark, as she stumbled forward, the pole now supporting her, numbness settling into her body. She couldn't move! Another twisting wriggle of her arms had no effect, strength fading, as she sagged into darkness. Melissa DuVant writes a variety of BDSM-inspired stories, such as Digital Slave and is one of the co-writers of the St Michael's University setting. When not writing, she is generally planning RPG campaigns, reading or cooking. The cover was created by Formant. He is a web artist, specializing in the harsher side of fetish and kink. Digital Slave Preview Chapter: A New Life Starts Present Day The pressure on her shoulders was intense, wrists cuffed together behind her back, a chain running to the ceiling and pulling them up. This forced her into a painful strappado position, unable to properly stand without wrenching her shoulders out of position. Her mouth was full, a large sphere of black rubber strapped between her lips, slow trickles of spittle flowing over her red-painted lips, down her chin. Around her neck was a collar, a chunky band of bright metal, chunky metal bracelets of the same material on her wrists. Ever since she had started wearing it, she had become intimately familiar with the devices it contained - at the moment it was as loose as it got, although it could tighten without notice to choke her, or shock her. She had lost track of how long she'd been held in this position - the apartment had no clocks, and the windows were blacked out, the time of day impossible to tell. Her slender body, something that she had always been proud of, even used to draw attention to herself, was dressed in a silk blouse and black pencil skirt. In the pale glow of emergency lighting, the fringe of a lacey bra could be seen beneath the blouse, her skirt short enough to show the patterns on her stockings around her thighs. If it wasn't for the collar, gag, and position, she could have been any office worker. She whimpered, trying to shift, find some element of comfort. How long had it been since she had been here? Days, weeks, months? She was kept here, every element of her life controlled, only allowed out in what the owner permitted. She had nothing of her own, everything she had, everything she had become, was what the owner desired. But she had never seen the owner, her owner. She had been shaped and molded, without ever even being touched by him. She twisted in her bonds, thoughts of her previous life bubbling upwards. She had had a name then. Been able to go out. Had control of herself, been able to choose her own clothing. What had her name been? Her twisting strengthened as she twisted, the chain softly clinking. Her collar beeped, and she froze in fear. It tightened, not even to choke her, but a warning. Was her owner watching? She knew there must be cameras, watching her, knowing when she was bad or good. But he couldn't read her mind, could he? The AC whirred into life, cold air beating down on her, her clothing doing little to protect her. The memories died within her as the cold air blew, until her stirring stopped. The thing between her legs briefly stirred into life, an empty promise of warmth. Not long enough to give her any relief or pleasure, simply a reminder that she lacked even the control to pleasure herself. She shuffled awkwardly, stilettos clicking on the floor. If she was good, if she managed to maintain this position for long enough, maybe she would be allowed to sleep on the floor, rather than restrained. Maybe she would be allowed out - her clothing chosen for her, her mouth sealed behind a gag, but outside, where she could pretend to be a person. The pressure in the air changed, the AC shutting down. The door, path to the outside world, always locked to her, clicked open, light spilling in. She was bound facing away from the door, unable to see who was standing there. Was it the owner? Or someone else? She didn't dare twist to see, in case she was punished for it. The shadow moved closer, footsteps seemingly as loud as thunder. A hand reached out, slapping her ass in a possessive way, and she couldn't restrain herself from squeaking. Had her owner finally come to claim her, or was this someone else to service? Either way, she had to please them. She parted her legs slightly, hoping they would find her pleasing. *** Days, Weeks or Months ago... Sophia's heart sank, blood turning cold. She pressed refresh, in the desperate hope that things would be different. They couldn't have dropped that fast. The screen reloaded - everything was in the red. Deep into the red. Could she move money from anywhere else? No, everywhere was tapped out. Everything had been riding on this. But how could everything have dropped like that? The market shouldn't move like that, something should have gone up. She refreshed again. It was even worse. She'd bet her apartment on this, everything she owned! She felt a presence, before a hand touched her shoulder, nails pressing against her flesh through her thin blouse. 'Go home for the rest of the week, Sophia. We'll talk about this soon.' The woman squeezed her shoulder, red-painted nails digging in harder, just for a moment. Then she turned and left, heels clicking against the trading room floor. Sophia glanced around, seeing rumors already spreading amongst her colleagues, looking at her with pity or contempt. She ignored the sting of pride, trying to look calm and collected, picking up her handbag and left the office. She went to get drunk. A fancy bar, piano playing, no shortage of people willing to buy drinks for her - even without getting changed, her silk blouse, unbuttoned to show the edge of her bra beneath, tight pencil-skirt short enough that the tops of her stockings flashed into view as she walked, or crossed her legs were enticement enough. She might have lost big today, lost everything she owned, but all she needed was some seed money to get started again. Who could she hit up for a loan? Stephen was normally a sucker, especially if she worse something tight and black. And he wasn't even pushy enough to demand sex, just a quick handjob was normally enough. Although he was out of town, having taken a new job in Hong Kong. Maybe Ken? Although his latest wife was a pushy bitch. Another drink appeared, the spirits burning into her stomach, her thoughts turning into alcohol-infused mush as night fell. *** She awoke, in sunlight. Crisp sheets wrinkled beneath her hands, discreet buzz of a phone alarm vibrating nearby. Where was she? She blinked sleep from her eyes and looked around - not a place she recognized, but it oozed wealth. Sunlight streamed in from full-height windows, showing views over a park. The bed was massive, what looked to be a walk-in wardrobe opposite, floor-length mirrors, grey and chrome drawers and cupboards. And she was naked. Well, if it was whoever owned this place, then she had done well - she rolled over, finding the bed empty. She didn't feel satisfied, so they must have been too drunk to have sex. The rest of the apartment was small, but the view outside the window showed that it was right in the heart of the city, worth several million, at the least. The whole place shared the same chrome-and-steel coloring, probably designed by some tech-bro nerd, everything electronically controlled, both austere and massively expensive. A screen blinked on, displaying a message. Had to go to work, but last night was great. This place was my ex's, feel free to crash here. She was about the same size as you, use her clothes if you want. Well, this seemed to be quite fortunate. She had no recollection of who the mysterious owner was, but they were clearly wealthy, which was what she needed right now. Everything was chrome and metal, custom-fitted and expensive. Near the entrance was a strange piece of modern art, dangling from a chain on the ceiling- a roughly female shape of solid black plastic, a head, the swell of breasts and curve of hips, a hole for a mouth and another between the legs, edges stained slightly. She'd always preferred more classical art and sculpture but having such a thing on casual display showed vast wealth. She looked at more closely - there was a tiny hairline crack around the edge, the thing cast in two halves. She gave it a gentle shove, setting it swinging. Something tickled the edge of her hearing; was that a moan? She must have imagined it, an apartment like this would be fully sound-proofed. She returned to the walk-in wardrobe, the door sliding open with an electronic beep. Inside was a carousel device filled with clothing, so only a single outfit was accessible at any given time, like a giant vending machine. More sealed lockers lined the walls, all currently shut. The current outfit was very much in line with her own preferences - sleek and sexy office-wear, a skirt, tight and black and short, a silk blouse, along with a lace thong and bra. One of the lockers popped open, revealing a pair of very high heels and some stockings. The ex must have been about the same size as her, conveniently. Before dressing she had a shower, luxuriating in the steaming hot water, rubbing herself down, feeling the fug of last night retreating under the steam and heat. When she was done, she applied her makeup - this ex had similar coloration as well; the owner must have a distinct 'type'. Well, that would make him easier to butter up for some money. With her lips tinted red, mascara around her eyes, hair pulled back into a ponytail, she felt decidedly more in control, more like herself, especially when she dressed as well. She admired herself in the mirror, blowing herself a kiss. Another message blinked onto the screen in the main room, accompanied by a faint chiming noise. You lost your phone last night, here's a replacement. I loaded my number onto it. A drawer opened with a pneumatic pop. Inside was a smartphone, sleek, black and unbranded, the sort of prestigious item normally seen in the hands of millionaires. She pressed her thumb against it, as it unlocked for her - even the programming was something she didn't recognize, although most of the functionality appeared to be locked. There was only one number listed: 'Owner', with no other details listed. Well, he had been so nice, he deserved a treat, and something to keep him keen and friendly. She found the camera function and posed for a selfie, tweaking her blouse to make sure it showed her cleavage, making a seductive face. Thanks for last night "owner", you were
great. See you soon! She took several pictures, making sure to find the best one before hitting 'send'. Then she explored the rest of the apartment. It was small, little more than the bathroom, a kitchen-diner, and a box room, with the colossal bedroom and walk-in wardrobe taking the largest amount of space. This close to the center though, it must have cost a fortune - she took her new phone out and tried to access the internet, to look up the value, but couldn't find any way to access it. All the draws in the kitchen had an RFID scanner, remaining stubbornly locked, surfaces too smooth to pull open. Denied there, she went to the wardrobe - it would have been a decent-sized room by itself, but the carousel device took most of the space, leaving only a small space to get changed. She rotated through the other outfits - beyond a variety of office-wear and gorgeous (and expensive!) evening gowns, there was a variety of more 'special' outfits - a latex nurse's outfit, several skin-tight catsuits, a schoolgirl outfit, a shiny nun's habit with holes at the crotch... Well, those wouldn't be getting used, at least not on her. She liked to be in charge, not the one being dominated. She smiled at past memories - keeping someone on the edge, just shy of climax, could be a powerful incentive when negotiating. Although she hated the feel, taste and scent of cum, so always tried to slip a condom on first. Her stomach rumbled - she hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday. She went to the front door, running her hand against the card reader - there was no handle, nothing to force it open. When she tapped it, a prompt appeared; "Present Owner authentication". Without that, it wouldn't open. Another bell chimed, message appearing. Nice pic, you're a doll. Have some food. A drawer popped open, revealing a bowl full of powder. She grimaced. Of course a techbro would be into food-substitute powder. She gave it a sniff. Flavorless food substitute, to boot. Enough of that, and even the taste of cum would be a welcome change. She turned to the tap, trying to figure out how to turn it on - there was nothing to twist or turn. She waved the bowl beneath the tap, water rushing out. Just enough to turn the powder into a paste, nutritional enough to keep her alive, but bland and tasteless. She'd have to convince him to take her out somewhere proper, or this relationship wouldn't last long. She ate the paste, then put the bowl back into the drawer which slid shut and locked itself. Unable to leave, she explored the apartment - everything was sealed away, the place spartan and barren, no pictures or any other touches of life. In the bathroom were fresh toiletries, a sealed toothbrush and paste, the cabinet locking shut once she had cleaned her teeth. There was a TV in each room, but no remote control, nor any buttons on the units themselves. She bent over to look under the bed, finding what she expected - a large box, filled with more 'toys', those for obviously female use. She pulled it out, having to strain to shift the weight; if she was stuck here while some dickless techbro was spending his time hacking code, she may as well enjoy herself. The ex must have been feeling frustrated, if the amount of stuff present was any indication, and most of it still unopened. At the bottom of the box, and the reason it was so heavy, was a heavy block, a vibrating pad at the top - a sybian. She'd seen one used at a party before, an unwilling escort made to mount it only when threatened with being stripped and forcibly ejected onto the streets. From the sounds the girl had made, it had been quite intense, although that might just have been to try and please whoever had hired her or hoping to get them to let her go. She managed to find a plug socket (even that was behind a metal panel, although at least it was open rather than locked) and plugged it in. This one looked pretty heavy-duty, with straps to ensure the occupant didn't fall off, the controls on the front of the box where they would be hard to access when in use. She straddled it, then took another picture. Think I should go for a ride? It didn't take long until there was a response. Strap yourself in, it's a hell of a thing! She squirted lube over the dildo, shimmying her thong off, playing with herself to get herself ready. This was how she wanted to live, surrounded by luxury, although with rather more control herself. She played with herself, loosening herself up, then slowly eased herself onto the prong. The thing was cold inside her, although was a comfortable size, satisfyingly solid. She strapped the bands around her thighs, then reached forward, fumbling along the front of the device for the 'on' switch. It buzzed to life. She immediately grabbed her phone, trying to concentrate through the vibrations and stimulation, pressure swiftly building inside of her. This selfie wouldn't be very well focused, but... Her thoughts went white as the vibrations rumbled through her, bringing her to a peak. If it hadn't been for the straps, she would have fallen off already. The phone fell from her hand as she was shoved into another orgasm, hands covering her mouth as she tried not to yell. She came again, the buzzing seeming louder. Oh god, was it getting faster? A cry tore itself from her lips, audible even through her hands, and then she sagged forward as the buzzing slowed slightly. Her hands scrabbled over the front of the panel, fumbling for the controls. It started to vibrate again, her nails scraping against knobs and dials, flicking a switch and the thing powering down. It took her a long moment to collect herself, head swimming as she slowly pulled herself off it, the dildo now slick with her juices. She could understand now why that escort had started to beg after the sixth orgasm had been ripped from her, the onlookers only turning it up higher and laughing. She climbed off, needing to collect herself. That thing was powerful! Her pussy was drenched, thighs moist with her own juices, as she wiped herself down on the bedsheets. She didn't have any other clothing, and the device in the closet seemed to have jammed, leaving her reeking of sex as she put the thong back on, taking a moment to rearrange her own clothing as the message bell chimed again. Nice look, doll, suits you. Wonder how long you can go for if it wasn't
turned off? Called in a favor, got you a
job. Close by, phone will tell you the
way. It had fallen against the wall, fortunately undamaged. A map had appeared, showing her current location, a destination not far away. Who was this guy? The place shown was an office building, filled with super-expensive lawyers and consultants. For a one-night stand she couldn't even remember, he was very generous. Even when drunk, she wouldn't have been picked someone ugly so he must be a looker, and wealthy as well. The bathroom door had sealed itself, so she couldn't shower again. The door to outside opened, allowing her to leave, hissing shut as soon as she passed through. The Begging
Chair, Day 1: Chapter Four: Queen's Mate Ayaka went to the fridge, bending over, being sure to bend all the way over, her tight trousers pulling tight on her backside, showing off her ass. How many people were watching her? Thousands? Tens of thousands? Even more? Surely enough that there would be a few doddery old fools watching that could take her somewhere nice, and that she could turn into nice, obedient money pumps. At least the hosts knew how to treat them though! The apartment was tiny and pokey, the lack of windows and the locked door making it cramped and claustrophobic, but it was well-stocked with luxury food items, and even champagne (albeit a cheap one) in the fridge. Getting drunk was probably a bad idea, but just one bottle couldn't hurt, and she needed to show people the sort of living she was used to, and how she should be kept. She straightened up, shifting her slender hips, making sure her blouse was properly arranged, along with her jewelry, golden chains around her neck. Maybe if she was losing, she could wear even tighter clothing, or flash some tit. Coming out of this the victor would help her promote herself, and help her get out of that inconvenient debt! Maybe then she could live as she deserved to, pampered in wealth and luxury. So far, it was going well - Showgirl seemed soft and a pushover, having surrendered a number already. Just a few more and then she'd have them at her mercy. As long as the others didn't gang up on her, then it should be simple. Champion looked strong, but would probably be easy to manipulate and goad, Manageress would be some boring pencil-pusher without any ability for manipulation, while Princess... Just some dumb on-line slut. Although her name made Ayaka want to bully her, to make the pretty little face scrunch up with tears, ruin that perfect and neat make-up. The girl had probably done nothing with her life except sell pictures of herself on-line, and thought herself a success for that! Well, in the real world she'd get destroyed, ending up as arm-candy for some tech-nerd, if she was lucky, renting her ass out at a truck-stop if she was less fortunate. Precious she dismissed - not even worth it for the fun. She'd seen dozens of women like her, empty and grasping onto their husbands for all they could, their whole existence based on pleasing their men, pumping out babies in blandly wealthy suburbs, fearing the approach of age and being replaced with a younger model. She'd sucked and fucked enough of their husbands to know the sex wasn't even that good, although it could help with leverage to make them increase their offers a little more, or to slip her a little extra "commission". She opened the champagne, the cork pinging away and bouncing off the wall, ricocheting behind the couch, out of sight and immediately forgotten, then poured it into a glass. It had a slightly strange aftertaste, but they'd probably cheaped out, and then just hoped that no-one would notice. Now, what to do? Walking around in her heels and tight trousers was probably entertaining the viewers, but it was boring, and she wanted to win this! She could go and bully Showgirl some more, but it would be easier if some of the others did that as well - if all of them dogpiled her, they could probably reduce her to a blubbering mess in short order! Champion would need some softening, and so would Manageress. But Princess... She looked young, and, while she wouldn't be as innocent as she made herself look, would likely be missing in experience. And if she was "Queen", then it was only appropriate that a Princess be subordinate to her! She sat down on the couch, crossing her legs and reaching for the remote, pulling up the information she had been allowed to see on the girl. Young, clearly going for an innocent-slutty look, complete with pink hair to appeal to that audience, she must be selling herself on-line, all tease and fluff, getting money from viewers with the promise it might go further. Well, Ayaka could respect that, but also found herself wanting to humble the girl, make her aware of her position. A girl was no match for a woman! She opened up the message box, the only way they were allowed to communicate. Of course, she was assuming that everyone was what they appeared to be, but this should help her find that out. What would be the best way of pissing them off? She started to narrate her message, the characters appearing on the screen, as the champagne tingled on her tongue and into her belly. 'How did it feel getting kicked out of school for being a slut?' The message vanished with a ping, Ayaka stretching out, enjoying the way her trousers hugged her legs, snug and sleek against her crotch, feeling a tingle of pleasure. Although one of the annoyances of being here was not being able to get off! She could masturbate, but giving it away for free, with so many people watching... No, far better to keep that private, despite the warm tension developing inside of her. And bundling herself up under the bedsheets and doing it there was just pathetic - she enjoyed the feel of warm air on her skin, expensive sheets beneath her. And, ideally, the soft kisses of a subservient lover! A message pinged back, and she smiled - good, that meant they were probably annoyed. And likely bored as hell, if they were a game junkie! It opened up on the screen, the letters tinged with a sickeningly girlish pink tinge. Better than being an old hag! I bet you can't give it away! Ayaka wondered what it would be like to have the girl over her knee - she looked slim and petite, unable to put up much of a struggle, easy to hold down and spank, make those big wide eyes sparkle with tears. She preferred men, but sometimes had been required to "discipline" a client's wife, and there was a certain pleasure in forcing blubbering screams and squeals from surgery-perfect lips, forcing a dildo into a yoga-toned asshole, before taking their husband as well. Bad little girls need a spanking. This would be a
lot easier face-to-face, where she could stare them down and intimidate them
directly, rather than having to try and go through the proxy of messages! Be a good little girl and let me look
after you. The response time was even shorter this time. I don't lose. At anything! Stupid bitch. Well, the girl had pride, at least. That would make it all the more fun to defeat her - Ayaka had only briefly glanced over the full rules, but it looked as though, with access to all of someone's numbers, not only were they out of the game, but all their room functions could be controlled. Being plunged into darkness or light, hot or cold, needing to beg for access to any of the cupboards and the wardrobe - a prideful little shit like this "Princess" would soon learn her place, when she had no control over herself! Oh?
Think you've got what it takes?
Go home and play some games, you've not got the spirit. Fuck you! Bring it on! A metallic sound chimed out, an annoyingly jaunty series of tones, as the show logo flashed onto the screen, the words "CHALLENGE STARTED" circling around it. Ayaka heard a heavy clunk from the kitchen area, and looked up from the couch to see that what she had assumed was an ornamental cupboard had opened, the door holding a number of neatly-hung leather paddles. Before she could go and investigate, a longer message had appeared on the screen. Higher or Lower: Self-Punishment. The challenger must declare a number of
strikes. The defender then has the option
of saying another higher number. The
challenger may accept that number and must then strike themselves in the breasts
or crotch with sufficient force that number of times, or force the defender to
do so. The delay between impacts must be
no more than 10 seconds. This will be repeated
for up to three rounds. If either side
yields, the other wins, else taking the hit earns a point. Ayaka went to look at the cupboard that had opened - the paddles inside were sturdy leather, with firm grips, built with some kind of sensor integrated. She took one and flicked it against her hand, wincing at the stinging pain on her palm. This game wasn't kidding around! But she could probably take a lot more punishment than the girl could. Princess is the challenger - she has
declared 5 strikes. Queen - declare your
number. She tapped it experimentally against her breasts, her blouse doing nothing to absorb any of the impact. Could she fake the hits? The screen flashed red, an angry buzzing sound stinging her ears. Hits must be of greater force. Dammit! They must have impact sensors or something, to ensure they were hitting hard enough. Five hits wasn't many though - but it would be better if Princess took the damage! 'Fifteen!' There was a pause. Princess accepts. Ayaka smiled - good, they'd taken the bait. The thought of that slender body taking any sort of impact was amusing. The first self-inflicted hit between their legs or onto their small tits would probably hurt them more than they realized! Would they even be able to finish the full fifteen? She tensed her fingers, wanting to be able to see it, wanting the girl at her mercy, or just to see them break down in pained tears. They looked small enough that holding them down would be easy, force them over the arm of the couch and redden their petite buttocks, until their face ran with tears! Ayaka waited, idly tapping the paddle against her hand, feeling the slight bending of the stiff leather. She'd had to have such things used on her a few times - she liked it rough and hard, but not being at someone else's mercy! A few strikes to warm her up, maybe, but then grabbing them close and mounting them, riding them raw, holding them down until they had pleasured her, that was more to her preference than being a slutty little doll or spank-toy. Round 1 winner: Princess, 15 hits. The little bitch had done it? Hurt her little titties and soft little pussy? That was a surprise! Queen to declare. She hissed in annoyance. She couldn't go lower than 15 without seeming weak, but if she had to properly strike herself that many times... But if that slut could do it, then so could she. 'Twenty!' Dots appeared on the screen, the number getting conveyed elsewhere, to wherever Princess was in this building. Princess raises to thirty. Thirty!? Ayaka took a deep breath before nodding. 'I accept.' She raised the paddle, smacking herself across the chest, the impact mostly landing on her right breast. The screen dinged, a green tick appearing, and Ayaka struck herself several more times there, feeling the heat of the impacts build up. Her next strike was more awkward, having to flick her wrist at an odd angle to hit her other breast, her breath quickening. She tried to keep the impacts fast, the throbbing hits running together, echoed by the chiming dings, as they were validated as hitting hard enough. By alternating breasts, she managed to get to 10 before the pain got too intense. Her heart was racing now, both tits throbbing and aching. She didn't want to hit herself between the legs! But her tits were both hurting, so there was little choice. As if trying to force her, a number flashed on the screen - 10. 9. 8... It was counting her down, as she raised the paddle and flicked it between her legs, wishing she'd worn thicker trousers. The impact knocked the wind from her, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She froze, feeling the pain jangle through her body, all the worse for being self-inflicted. But she couldn't stop, the countdown starting up again, as she twisted the paddle and brought it back down, fumbling it and striking herself on the inner thigh. Despite not being right on her slit, the impact still hurt, as an angry buzz sounded, a big red "X" appearing on the screen. That should count, it had still hurt! At least it had reset the counter, as she took a deep breath and spread her legs, making it easier to hit herself, twisting her arm and bringing it towards herself, hitting upwards and between her thighs, managing several swift strikes. The pain was seeping up from her crotch, each hit building on the previous one, making her vision waver. How many was she even on now? She glanced at the screen, the timer ticking down worryingly fast, but that gave no indication of how far along she was. It must be at least half, surely? Several more hits almost brought her to her knees, the flaring agony building up and up, her breath ragged and gasping. If she ever got her hands on that little bitch, she'd make them regret being born! See how they liked being leashed up at a service station to be fucked hard and raw by anyone that wanted a piece of her ass! Another hit to her pussy made her gasp and whimper, her grip now weak, but at least it earned her another "ding". Despite how they were still throbbing, she turned her attention to her breasts again, slapping the leather paddle against them, catching herself across the nipple. The pain from her earlier slaps hadn't yet faded, the newest impact reigniting the impact-pains, her heart skipping a beat, lungs heaving for air. That bitch would pay for this! There was no indication she had done enough, so Ayaka had to force herself to keep going, trying to hit herself as quickly as possible, before the pain could catch up with her. It was hard though, her chest aching and throbbing, even the light silk of her blouse chafing where it brushed against impact-sore flesh. One hit snagged her necklace, impressing the metal into her skin and making her yelp. And not counting as a hit! Despite the tears in her eyes, she managed to hit herself again, and again, before the pain got too much. She paused, eyes focused on the countdown, managing to make it out through the tears in her eyes. Ayaka whimpered, but managed to bring her arm around, smacking herself harder than she had intended, right on her cunt. The pain! She staggered, barely standing, grip weak on the paddle-handle. Hadn't she done enough yet? But there was no sign of release, as she hit herself again. It took multiple attempts to hit herself hard enough to register, her legs getting weaker and weaker, her hand barely able to hold the paddle. Queen has completed! She staggered over to the couch and sat down heavily, pain still bright and vicious. She liked it rough, but not like that - she couldn't take another round, even another ten hits would probably be more than she could endure! Princess to declare. Hopefully they would go high, so that they would have to endure the pain themselves, and fail! Ayaka gingerly felt between her legs, just a light touch making her wince and hiss in pain, her breasts sore and throbbing as well. Thirty. There was no way she could take that much! 'She can take that.' Queen has passed. Princess to take thirty impacts. Ayaka leaned back on the couch, glad to relax, her breathing slowing now her body wasn't under assault. The thought of that girl being made to hurt herself, again and again, was pleasurable, despite the aching pain in her own ass and tits. That cute face, contorted with pain, tears running down smooth cheeks, eyes wide with humiliation - she was probably only used to being a cock-tease on screen, not in-person. Make her fuck and suck at a cheap titty-bar, and she'd be fuckmeat in short order, her pride stripped away! Princess has succeeded. A chill ran through Ayaka - that dumb slut had managed to hit herself thirty times? Was she cheating somehow? Princess has chosen to inflict a feeding
penalty onto Queen. If you come for the King, you best not miss! Suck it, you old bitch! Anger stirred, although it was kept at bay by the pain still. What the fuck did that mean? Although it was probably less bad than being a quarter out of the game already. Ayaka ground her teeth, then hissed in pain as her blouse rubbed against her sore tits, flaring with agony, skin starting to bruise. Fuck! She'd have to do something else to grind that dumb little slut into the ground, and show her where she belonged. Although the aching of her body made her want to wait, until she had some time to recover. Her hand tensed on the paddle-grip, wanting to take it to the girl's bottom, make her squeal in agony! |