It had been a slightly uncomfortable trip back. Not out of guilt or any embarrassment at what had happened down on the island. Rather because of Harley's enthusiasm in slapping her butt and playing with her breasts. It took a little time to sit comfortably and her tender nipples kept sending messages from their contact with her top. Not that she regretted a thing. Every little sensation just reminded her of how good it had been.
There was, of course, a problem with that. Every memory contrasted with her life back home. She continued her researches and her normal life at the college but it all seemed so bland, so uninspiring. The answer should have been simple of course. She was now a fully enrolled participant in the Challenge. The roll of the die and the turn of the card set her a new task every week. The first four had been performed on camera at home for her members and her subscribers.
1) Shave your pussy - and keep it shaved.
2) Do your cleaning and cooking in a sheer top, short skirt, high-highs and no panties.
3) Twerk in a tight dress while going commando.
4) Dance and strip on camera.
The problem with all of that could still startle her at times. It was all rather ... tame. Not that her audience didn't enjoy it. Especially the twerking - her Members could not get enough of seeing her twerking. But she had already done all of this without the Challenge when she had just been devising her own shows. None of her tasks had given her the thrill of that first show back from the island.
Harley had gifted her an outfit - well hardly an outfit. It was more lingerie bearing a certain logo. A logo that sent a very clear message - especially if, like her Members, you knew that she had just been to the island with Harley. It would tell them all they needed to know which she found very exciting. Almost as exciting as the fact that she knew that she had earned that lingerie on her trip and had earned the right to wear it.
It had been so exciting to sit there and turn on the camera. Then to watch the messages rush up her screen, the congratulations and the pleasure of her Members at seeing what she was wearing. Many a way of saying basically the same things. Firstly,
'ABout fucing time - our Monica done got herself Blacked!'
Followed rapidly by,
'C'mon now Harley when we gonna get a piece of that sweet booty?'
Finally Harley had responded,
'Now this one is just a little bit special. I was thinking I might just keep her for myself. I'm thinking my Monica is a little too fine to be wasted on a raggedy-assed bunch like you all!"
Heather Cameron sat and watched the responses scroll up the screen. Her camgirl persona as Monica had introduced her to many aspects of the world that Heather had not been aware of. Now her Members introduced her to many colorful expressions and a seemingly limitless array of variations in obscenely abusing Harley. Monica could only sit on camera and giggle because she knew Harley was laughing too, wherever he was watching.
It was all a game and every one of them knew it - Monica, Harley and all of her Members. Monica was on screen publicly wearing that lingerie emblazoned 'Blacked'. Her Members all knew what that meant. They also knew that Harley was a generous and a good friend to them all - he was sure to share. In his own good time.
That, of course, was the problem. How did you get excited by doing a naked twerk on camera when you had been down on the Island. They hadn't been playing down there. That had been real and it had changed her. She was ever more Monica rather than being Heather. The old Heather Cameron was devolving into a 'part' that had to be played during intervals when she couldn't be her real self, when she couldn't be Monica.
It was not so long ago that she had never heard of Harley or his TKB Network of camgirls. Not so long ago but that relatively short period of time had changed her. Who could ever have imagined that Heather/Monica would ever have thought that Harley was holding her back! She asked him about it and got a very reasonable reply.
'Baby- you need to have faith in old Harley. Have I ever set you wrong? Every task performed gets you a cash bonus. Check that account you set up and you'll see I ain't lying. Now I know you ain't hurting for money but that ain't so true for some of my girls. This is a way of getting them some easy bonuses. I treat you any different and the Members gonna see it. Don't be fooled into thinking they don't notice these things. They ain't thinking with their dicks all the time!'
A quick check on her phone had revealed the truth of his statement. There were bonus fees paid into the account as well as her regular share of the show incomes. 'I don't need the money,' she had messaged Harley.
His response had set her thinking.
'I know you don't - that's why I especially enjoy paying you that green and you accepting it. I like the fact you getting paid to dance and show off that fine white booty of yours. No rules on what you spend it on. Ain't there no food pantry or something up your way needing your help?'
She took his hint despite the fact that 'her way', the area around her exclusive blue-blood college, wasn't exactly known for its deprivation. She soon found a worthy recipient in one of the old Cameron factory towns. That seemed appropriate and they didn't need to know how she was 'earning' the money she sent them. The groceries they bought would be just as welcome.
Meanwhile, she was 'earning' that money and she thought she had come to know Harley well enough to understand him. For a lot of the girls on TKB this was their living. They performed to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads. Harley knew that was not the case for her. Some of her Members' comments suggested they had figured that much out too - even if they didn't know quite how little she needed anyone's money. They did at least understand that she wasn't in this for the green - she was in it for something else. For the excitement, the thrill, the risk, the adventure - call it what you would. This wasn't a job for her it was a vocation. The vocation of being their entertainment, probably soon of being something more.
So why did Harley pay her? She was pretty sure she understood that too. He paid his girls and he wanted her to be one of his girls so he paid her. More than that - he wanted her to know that was why he was doing it. He wasn't claiming ownership of her - he was allowing her to give herself up to him. Just as she had on the Island. She understood and it could still surprise her just how much that understanding brought her pleasure.
****
'H - Turn the card Monica.'
She looked at the playing cards laid down in front of her. The shuffle of the pack and roll of the dice had isolated three cards and now she had to choose one. She did so. The Seven of Spades.
'H - Open the envelope.'
She did so and then read out loud the card enclosed within the envelope marked with the Seven of Spades. "Viewers' choice of outfit."
'H - OK! So the Members have till Midnight to suggest and nominate an outfit for Monica there to wear next time. The ballot of the three most popular suggestions will go to the Subscribers and they will have two days to donate and vote. The suggestion with most donations wins and I'll have it with Monica ready for next week's show.'
That was how things had gone at the end of the previous week's show. A nice illustration of the way her boss Harley worked. Membership at TKB was as exclusive as any of the country clubs her grandfather had frequented. It was just that the criteria were somewhat different. First, all the members were African-American. Second, all the members were recommended by an existing Member and had to be personally approved by Harley. There was no admission fee and no membership fee. Members followed the rules or stopped being Members. Which meant, if they had any sort of brains, that they made sure to follow the rules. The privileges of membership were too good to risk losing them.
The subscribers, or 'subs' for short, were very different. They were overwhelmingly white and they definitely did pay for the privilege. They paid a subscription and then were expected to tip performers where appropriate. Access to the more popular performers' shows required a past track-record of generous contributions. Monica saw her viewer numbers and knew that her Challenge shows were always over-subscribed. The regular sound of coins over her speakers during her shows signalled when the subs were enjoying her show and also signalled just how much they wanted to be there next week. After a while that sound could inspire an instant reaction. It made her heart beat a little faster and her blood pump a little bit stronger - all fuelled by the knowledge that she was dong a good job.
True to his word Harley had got the selected outfit to her in time. She knew the rules and left the package sealed until she was on camera. George, the African-American college porter, had just smiled when she had asked him for some clues. He wasn't saying anything but she was well aware that he knew. Harley had made him a provisional TKB Member and even provisional Membership had its privileges.
This week she had done a 'Q & A' (dominated by as much as she would tell them about the Island), performed a strip dance and demonstrated a little of her deep throat technique on the big black sex-toy modelled on the infamously large cock of the pornstar Julius Flint. As ever her Members wanted to see her put that toy to another use but she was not ready for that. It was seriously huge, a good twelve inches and thick with it. Instead she used her smaller black vibrator and that helped the show go real well.
Half way through her show it was time to perform the Challenge. On camera she unsealed the package and opened the box that contained the outfit selected for her. She knew that the lens caught her expression of slight confusion as she looked inside. There didn't seem to be an outfit there - just a few narrow strips of leather connected by wide chrome rings. Except that there was one strip of material about an inch wide. Once she had removed it all from the box she found an image at the bottom of it and then she understood.
"Oh wow," she said and began to figure out how to put the outfit on. There was, of course, no question that she would put it on. Pre-show Harley had told her that the little poll-come-auction had gone very well. The Members had made their selection and the Subs had paid out a lot of good money to see her wear it.
It was pretty clear where the strip of material went. It covered her pussy and her asshole. Well, theoretically it did. There wasn't much material there. Everything else was pretty much on display and once the outfit was on and in place it was notable that the leather straps framed and held in place both her uncovered breasts and her butt cheeks. Certainly her rear view in the harness was real popular and she had to keep standing up, turning round and bending over at her Members' requests.
That gave her an idea and she struck a few ballet-style poses for the camera, using the back of her chair for support. The Members really liked that - especially since apparently that strip of material kept shifting and giving them a sweet view of her pussy. The outfit was either very badly or very carefully designed. Given what she knew about Harley she had her suspicions which was the case.
'H - Take that other envelope out of the bag.'
It was under the photograph and she hadn't noticed it before. Now she removed and opened it. Inside was a cord of about twelve inches with clips on each end. Again a moment's hesitation before she remembered the photograph. So that was where the clips went.
She gave the camera her sweetest smile and then spoke into the mike. "You guys don't want me to wear this do you?"
