(All characters in this story are eighteen years of age, or older)
Chapter 7
A hero rises
You try to imagine what he could do to break you more than he already has. You're on your knees, beaten and abused, his jizz leaking from your mouth. He had tortured your breast and made you come with the toe of his dirty sneaker while using your throat like a cocksleeve. All of this had been watched by the same group of nerds that had just seen you turn from a confident badass into a humiliated loser, begging to come. He already owned you. All you can think about is how you're going to earn your next orgasm.
A quavering voice rises behind you. "I... I won't let you do that, Nick!" Every eye in the room turns to see George, standing unsteadily, gaze defiant. He holds your panties in a clenched fist, and he raises his other hand to point at Nick. "You can't treat my friend like that. I invoke a Contender's Challenge!"
Nick's face twists in a grimace and the other boys burst into a confused babble. You don't know what's going on, but you don't like how upset Nick is looking.
Lincoln steps forward. "He has that right, Nick. He was the only one you lost to in the Grand Tournament, remember? He beat you in the racing round." Lincoln's voice is regaining that old confidence, that authoritative edge. "If he can beat you in a rematch, same game, same conditions, he gets your Privilege until next Friday."
Matt whoops and pumps a fist in the air. "Attaboy, George! Get that slut back for the club!"
All these rules and challenges and privileges are going over your head. The only thing you're comprehending right now is that these boys are fighting over you. Fighting for the right to own you, to use your body, to make you submit to their desires. Thinking about it makes your clit buzz, and you start to rub your slick pussy to relieve the pressure.
George shakes his head. "No, Matt! I'm going to set that slu— RC free."
The other boys groan at that. You frown in confusion.
But I don't want to be free.
I want to be owned.
Your eyes flick over to George.
Don't you want to own me, George? I can be a good toy for you, too.
Nick's hands are clenched into fists that vibrate with barely-contained rage. He speaks through gritted teeth, "Okay, George, I'll play your
fucking
challenge." He shoots a glare down at you. "You get your hands
off
your cunt I did
not
—"
You instantly stop playing with yourself and your eyes grow wide.
I'm sorry I'm sorry I didn't mean to I'm such a pathetic slut I'm sorry
.
Before you can give voice to your apology Nick's grimace twists into a sadistic smile. "Actually, that gives me an idea." He looks back up at Lincoln. "Alright, set it up. Let's get this over with."
While the other boys get things ready, Nick crouches down next to you. He grabs your face in one hand, forcing you to look him right in the eyes. "I am
not
done breaking you." His voice is a harsh whisper. "So you are going to make sure I win." You tremble in his grip. "You're going to make it impossible for that little punk to focus on the game. Do you
understand me
?" He squeezes your face, making you whine in pain.
You nod. Whatever Nick wants to do to you, however he wants to use your body, to break you, is what you want. Him owning you means awful pain and disgusting humiliation, but you don't care as long as you can get off again. You feel a twinge of guilt for betraying your friend, but he's not the one who made you come.
He smiles. "That's a good little cunt." He kisses you, shoving his tongue into your mouth. His other hand mauls your breast. You moan, loving the feeling of him using your body however he wants. He abruptly pulls back and stands. "Now come on."
The other boys are gathered around the biggest TV in the room. Two chairs sit right in front of it, obviously for the competitors, while the rest are arranged out in a semicircle behind them for the audience. George is already seated, controller in hand, a look of determination on his face. Nick sits down next to him and gives you a sharp look.
You stand and walk forward on unsteady legs.