A Day in the Life
After a restless night, Susan awoke to find that the lights in her cell
were on again. The cuffs on her hands relenquished their grip soundlessly, and
she freed herself from the foam padding she had slept on. The heavy cell door
opened on a hydralic hinge, revealing what she now realised was the main
corridor in this place. Glancing along it, she saw that there was another
door open, a little way down the corridor. The display on the ceiling read
"slave B17 to web room." Her bare feet made no sound on the spotless plastic
floor as she made her way to the "web room," whatever that was.
On stepping through the door, Susan was not surprised when it closed
behind her. Taking stock of the new room, it was hard to miss the main
attraction. In the middle of the floor was a rather odd-looking chair.
It was smooth and contoured, and also made of the beige plastic that now
made up the rest of Susan's world. Facing it, so it could be seen by the
occupant, was the standard LED display, currently reading "OFFLINE." There
were also little glass windows in the wall, facing the chair from various
angles, behind each of which a camera was visible.
Befoe she could notice any more, the display changed. Now the words
"ASSUME POSITION" scrolled across it. Susan examined the chair more closely.
As before, it was obvious that there was no way of doing anything but following
the instructions she was given, and she began to see what she was going to have
to do. The "chair" was not like any other she had seen. It had a back, with the
two halves of a buckling rubber strap hanging from it. There was another strap
a little lower - where, Susan realised, the waist would be. Another two straps
would hold each leg onto the moulded legpieces of the chair at thigh and ankle,
holding the legs in a V shape and the crotch open and available. Padded
armrests with the standard self-closing padded manacles would restrain the
hands.
On even closer inspection, there was a pair of strange bumps on the
seat of the chair - presumably, Susan reasoned, to keep the occupant from
moving their crotch away from whatever was to be done to it. Such ominous
thoughts were not good or her state of mind, but they were very persistent.
She managed to ignore them, however, and approached the chair.
Susan lowered herself onto the seat. It was, like most of the fixtures
she had enountered so far, srprisingly comfortable, while allowing virtually no
movement. As she was about to touch the seat, she felt a cold touch at her
pussy lips and anus. She jumped up, startled, and realised that the bumps on
the seat were in fact twin dildoes. Knowing that there was no alternative,
Susan closed her eyes and forced herself down onto them. They did not penetrate
at all far, she was surprised to find, just enough to give an uncomfortable
"plop" as her sphincter let the head of the anal intruder through. Despite
herself, she felt a shiver of arousal as the vaginal dildo passed her labia.
The higher of the two straps on the back of the chair buckled closed
under Susan's breasts, holding her firmly in place. The waist belt did the
same to her lower body. She found that she had to undo the chest strap to
fasten those on the ankles and thighs. With the chest belt refastened, Susan
placed her arms onto the padded rests, and her hands onto where the cuffs
would close, and closed her eyes, waiting for the soft click that would signal
her imprisonment once again.
It didn't come. Susan opened her eyes again and saw the display. It now
showed "ATTACH NIPPLE CLAMPS." "Nipple WHAT?!!" she asked herself. She had a
sudden vision of the test-tube clamps from the lab she had been happily visiting
just forty-eight hours ago, and winced. She looked around, and noticed what she
had missed earlier. A pair of black circular disc-like objects was trailing on
the floor, attached to the back of the chair by thick cables, also in black. As
she picked them up, Susan saw that they were in fact shallow cones, with a hole
in the middle into which her nipple would easily pass. As each clamp was placed
over its respective nipple, she felt a firm grip, but strangely, no pain.
Counting her lucky stars, Susan once again braced herself, and placed her hands
in the marked position. This time the expected click came, sounding all the
louder for her nervousness.
Susan sat like this, with her eyes closed, for the next thirty seconds
or so. When ravaging doom failed to occur, she opened them again. The display
had changed again. Watching it as it scrolled, she read:
***ONLINE*** 0 users...Anal: 0...Vaginal: 0...Pain: 0...Threshold: 10
Susan sat, puzzled, at this for a while. Suddenly, the number before
"users" flicked up to 1. Then 2, then 3, then 4... Soon, the other numbers
started changing, but the total never went above that of the users. Then it
hit her - this was a voting system! She was still congratulating herself on
her detective work when she saw, in horrible slow-motion, the number after
"anal" change from "9" to "10", and suddenly realised what the "threshold" was.
A split second later, her fears were confirmed as the dildo lodged in her
anus began to stir. Glancing to her left, she saw the camera pointed at her
shapely buttocks refocus onto her with a short whine, as the dildo began to move
further.
Susan had never experienced anal sex, but explaining this to a machine
was going to be rather difficult. Instead, all that escaped her mouth were a
couple of gasping sobs as the dildo moved further and further. Now it was moving
by a couple of centimetres at a time (this may not sound a lot, but just you
try it...). Now, it was thrusting at about 10, and suddenly, it plunged deep
into her, then withdrew nearly completely, then plunged in again. Susan
tried to struggle against her bonds, but the waist belt held her firmly
impaled. The sobs became more frequent, and eventually contnuous. Here she
was, strapped helplessly to this demented chair with 54 - no, make that 56 -
complete strangers watching a close-up of her being anally deflowered by a
hydraulic dildo. The sobs became louder, interspersed with gasps at each
stroke of the dildo. She struggled harder, pulling on her trapped hands and
feet, trying with all her might to escape this violation. The dildo was
reaching its full speed now. This apex lasted for another full minute of
groaning, sobs, and helplessness before Susan felt the strokes gradually
weakening, until eventually the intruder had retracted to its original position.
As her rectal muscles gradually closed up again, Susan had the presence
of mind to watch the display again. The vote count for "Anal" was now reset to
zero, but the number of users online was growing with each passing minute.
With more users, the threshold went up, but Susan's short respite was taken up
not by relaxing but tensely waching the screen. It seemed that those that had
voted for "Anal" were no longer allowed to vote. A trickle of newly-arrived
voyeurs increased the count, but "Vaginal" and "Pain" were neck-and-neck.
Susan was now sweating, and her heart beating faster than it had done yet that
day, more worried over two numbers on an electronic screen than she had done in
the whole time spent being anally violated. Those listening to the microphone
hidden in the corner of the room were rewarded with a gasp, then a
huge sob as "Pain" crossed the new threshold in the lead.
There then followed a few seconds of quiet, and Susan sat there, her
mind spinning in fear and horror at what was to come, wondering when or where
this pain was to come. Her questions were answered far too soon for her liking.
Her final thought as she felt the clamps tighten was "Nipples - I should have
guessed!", before the wave of agony hit her and all she could do was scream.
Susan screamed and screamed. Two minutes of tightly crunched and rolled nipples
felt like an eternity. The clamps tightened and relaxed, then squeezed and
twisted the aching flesh once again. She balled up her hands into fists on the
armrests and thrashed as hard as she could, but the chest strap held her so
firmly that all she could do was make her breasts jiggle, which only increased
the pain. Finally, it was over. The terrible "Pain" count went back to none, and
the scoreboard scrolled for another quarter of an hour - long enough for Susan
to consider her predicament. Watching the votes with one eye, she panted to a
standstill. She wiped her tears on her shoulder, and thought about how she must
look to her watchers. Bound, helpless, and unaware of their presence, they must
have thought, at any rate. In fact, the reality was far worse. Susan *watched*,
as each person logged on, as each successive click of the mouse brought her
closer and closer to another ordeal. It seemed that the "Vaginal" supporters
had used all their votes for the time being, but those for "Anal" just seemed
to be coming right back. Sure enough, they crossed the threshold about a minute
later.
Once again, the dildo started to move. Once again, Susan closed
her eyes and sobbed at the sheer humiliation. The thrusts came long and steady.
Much to her own chagrin, she discovered that this time her vaginal dildo was
getting distinctly damp. To Susan's horror, she was actually enjoying this
violation, this rape. She gave a token struggle, but before long she had
given in to her treacherous body. The sobs were now mixed with moans - of
delight or horror, she wasn't sure. In the end, she almost reached a climax
before the cycle finished, leaving her on the edge and bitterly disappointed.
Another ten miutes was spent watching people the other side of the
world decide her fate. Susan almost cheered when "Vaginal" crossed the line.
She managed a heartfelt "thank you" out loud and then recoiled, disgusted.
She had been kidnapped, raped in front of complete strangers she couldn't even
see. And she had just *thanked* the same mob who had just deflowered her, and
whose camera, if she was not mistaken, was now training itself on her captured
pussy. The shame was too much to bear.
At that point, though, the dildo moved inwards, bringing with it almost
at first touch a mind-shattering orgasm. Her moans and groans gradually died
down, but they were soon building up again. Susan climaxed so many times that
she lost count before the dildo finally retracted. She pushed her groin towards
the retreating shaft, but the waist belt remained unyielding. This reminder of
her restraints brought her back to her predicament, and she suddenly realised
what she had just been doing. Violated again, and enjoying it, loving it! She
felt so dirty, a real slut. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but her
hands were still held by the manacles she - she herself had put them into.
Another round of anal stimulation began, and Susan started once again
at the intrusion. This continued for another two hours. The audience's main
preference seemed to be anal penetration and pain, and occasionally both
together - an excruciating mix that carried on for a whole quarter of an hour.
Finally, the grand finale came - half an hour of penetration in both orifices.
The orgasms were too numerous to count, the shame too much to tell. When the
dildos finally came to rest and the manacles popped open, Susan stayed
strapped into the chair, shaking. Eventually, she looked up. The display
read "Slave B17 to lunch".
Gradually, she undid her bonds. Unsteady on her feet, she walked out
of the web room, which closed behind her, hiding its contents until the next
victim approached. The door of her cell was open. and closed behind her as she
entered. As she sat down, Susan pondered what wodl be next...
------------
OK, so that's a corny ending. I'm finishing it in a rush as I don't intend to
stop there, but I will for now, as I have other things to do. I do want to
remin anonymous, but if you want to show appreciation/dislike/whatever, there's
a voting system there for a reason - tell others (and me) what *you* thought
of it!
-- Anonymous
Feb 2002
