Tal Show

This chapter continues following Sofia, Miguel, and Carla's story as they work to make Sofia the new face of Carla's spa business. After Sofia's public whipping. While this chapter has less sex and more character development, it shows how their relationships grow deeper.

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Carla's POV

Sofia and Miguel walked into my office, with him leading Sofia on a leash. I totally got why he was doing it - it was all part of the show we'd planned - but I still hated seeing Sofia in such a humiliating state.

"Miguel, Sofia, my dears, come into my office - it's just us three in here." Once I'd shut the door, I could finally give Sofia a proper hug.

"How are you holding up? I watched the broadcast - I shouldn't have let you do that, it was absolutely mental, bloody stupid." I squeezed Sofia as tight as I could.

"Careful! You're hurting me. I'm still sore." I jumped back - bloody hell, how could I be such a clumsy twit? As if the pain and humiliation she'd endured for my project weren't enough, I'd gone and hurt her more.

"Sorry, I'm such a bloody idiot." I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.

"Sofia isn't made of glass; you're not an idiot. We did what needed to be done. We've all paid a price, now let's make sure Sofia's courage and determination help us reach our goal." Miguel had a point - Sofia's sacrifice had to be worth it. It was my responsibility to make sure of that, especially since I'd been the one to convince her to be the face of my spa chain.

"You're right, Miguel. Let's talk business," I said, offering them each a chair and showing them my computer screen. "These are the clips from The Pillory - look, when Miguel carried you out of the auditorium, the audience is clapping and some people are shouting your names. I'd planted a few people in the crowd, but most of it was genuine - you two created this brilliant positive energy."

Miguel was drinking in my words like they were gospel. "The Russian bird helped us too, showing the difference between Sofia and a real criminal." Miguel's eyes lit up when he talked about Sofia.

"If you'd whipped me like you did the Russian, I'd have been screaming too," Sofia said, resting her hands on Miguel's.

"I used the same force on both of you. The only difference was your moral fiber, and the fact that it didn't pain me to whip that poisonous snake like it did to whip you." They looked like a pair of lovesick puppies, making eyes at each other.

"Either way, it worked brilliantly, and the social media response has been mostly positive, look." I showed them the comments and how various YouTubers had made videos discussing the latest episode of "The Pillory". Most of them were genuine, but some were part of the campaign. I probably overdone it but better safe than sorry.

"'Miguel, an old-school Portuguese man through and through - I quite like that,' said Miguel, smirking at one of the video titles.

"We need to keep the focus on Sofia, but there are tons of videos and comments - some are absolutely hilarious. Listen to this one," I scrolled through my phone, "'Can't wait to hear Sofia scream under her master's whip - I know I would!' from sexycat85. Oh, and here's another: 'That dress was stunning' from luiziaB, 'Now that's what I call a real woman - you go Sofia!' from acrlos123. And they just keep coming."

"Hmph. It seems most women are more interested in Miguel than in me though. Look at this one," Sofia pointed at the screen, "'...If only I had a man to carry me like that - she better appreciate what she's got' from 35_veraP. Bloody shameless hussy." The jealousy in Sofia's voice was unmistakable.

"Well, that might seem like a problem, but we can turn it to our advantage. Besides, we've got the opposite too. Take a look at this one," I said, "'If I were Miguel, she'd be moaning non-stop - and not just from the whip' from luis1960."

Sofia shot me a look. "That's absolutely disgusting. How can these vulgar comments possibly be good for anything?"

"Trust me, darling - there's no such thing as bad publicity. It's perfect that men fancy you and women fancy Miguel. Women will want to be just like you, whether it's to please their husbands or hoping to catch someone like Miguel," I said with a knowing smile, turning to Miguel, "Welcome properly to Team Xi-Coração."

Miguel raised an eyebrow. "Thought I was already part of the team?"

"Oh, you were," I grinned, "but now you're going to have to get properly stuck in."

I got up and fetched a sterile container, which I handed to Miguel.

"What's this for then?" he asked, taking the container.

"Like I said, being properly part of the team now. I need two of these filled every week, unless you'd prefer your slave to have another man's sperm on her face." He knew all about the secret ingredient in my cosmetics range - I literally had a small harem of young lads who'd make their little donations in exchange for learning how to be proper good in bed. But Miguel's sperm had more than just the usual properties - it had real commercial value.

"I will never allow any man to touch any of my slaves. I hope that's perfectly clear." Miguel said in a serious tone, his quiet voice making any further warning or threat unnecessary. "But I'll gladly contribute to our common cause, even though Sofia and Sara have already drained me today." Sofia and Sara might have, but I hadn't, I thought. And even if the harvest was small, a man with Miguel's abilities was quite rare, especially men of his generation.

The possessive flash in his eyes made my skin tingle. I stood up, letting my kimono fall open slightly. "I'm sure we can manage something," I told him, showing him I wasn't wearing any knickers under my kimono. The memory of our threesome at my house still made me wet, and not just because of Miguel - I couldn't make love to one without the other anymore. "Surely two sensual women can squeeze every last drop out of that lovely cock, what do you say, Sofia?"

"I'll tell you what - if I catch that disgusting cunt of yours anywhere near my man, I'll sit on your face until you make me cum." Sofia's tone frightened me until she mentioned sitting on my face rather than slapping me. "But like he said, I doubt even the two of us could get anything out of him. At least not for the next few hours." Sofia then kissed me provocatively, more for Miguel's benefit than mine, though it was still enough to make me wet. I guided her hand to my vulva, letting her feel my warmth and wetness.

"I promise I'll fill those containers, and your cunts too, but not now, and not while Sofia can't fully participate," Miguel replied, kissing me breathless while pulling his erect cock from his trousers and impaling my cunt against the wall. I bit my lip anticipating the pleasure I would feel, my body accepting his thick member like a hot knife through butter. But with the same determination with which he'd taken me, he tucked his lovely cock back into his trousers and resumed his serious, professional demeanor.

"This will have to wait. As I said, Sofia isn't physically ready to participate in our activities, and anyway, we have things to do." His firm voice and self-control made me weak at the knees - no wonder so many women fantasized about him.

"Let me show you how bad it is," he said softly, turning to Sofia. With gentle movements, he unbuttoned her dress, his touch more clinical than sensual now. The welts and bruises covering her breasts, stomach, and buttocks told the story of that damn TV show - angry marks that had already begun turning blue and yellow.

"Oh God... I'm so sorry, Sofia. I shouldn't have let my passion take over." The extent of the marks shocked me - I hadn't expected them to cover such a large area, nor to look so severe.

"I'm also desperate to feel Miguel inside me - you've no idea the torture of feeling his touch on my body and not having him inside me. But he refuses to take me." It was a confession, a compliment, and a criticism.

"Since there's not going to be any wild sex, we might as well get on with our work. I need to improve those welts, Sofia, lie down on the table. You've got an appearance on Tininha's show at 2 PM and another on Late Night with Filomena Costa." Sofia pulled a face.

"I can't stand Tininha - she's such a loudmouth, always screeching about everything. Still, it'll be better than my last TV appearance," she said ironically. "And what do you mean by 'improve my welts'?"

"Your welts are, how shall I put it... not very photogenic. They're not what people expect." Miguel winked at me, understanding what I meant.

"People have this idea of what whip marks should look like from films and TV shows - that's what we need to show them. Your bum and breasts don't have those sexy, pretty lashes they're expecting," Miguel explained it better than I could, but that was exactly it - I was going to make Sofia pretty and sexy, BDSM style.

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Sofia's Pov

"You and Carla were having quite the amusing time - I daresay I resemble Dracula's bride," I remarked to my owner as he parked the car at the TVI studios.

"I find you absolutely ravishing - a redhead milf with crimson whip marks against her alabaster skin, yum yum!" Miguel responded, playfully mimicking eating sounds and blowing me a kiss. "Come now, those are just nerves. At least Tininha won't force me to whip you," he added. True enough, though she could still manage to make my ordeal on "The Pillory" all for nothing.

An androgynous young man with thick-rimmed glasses and a headset microphone hurried to meet us. "Sofia and Miguel? Right?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, that's us. We're not late, I hope?" Miguel replied while giving the lad a firm handshake.

"No! Of course not, everything's spot on... Sofia's here and with her owner... dressing room 2, okay... 20 minutes, okay," the young man rattled off as he led us down a corridor strewn with electrical cables and spotlights, eventually arriving at a small room marked 'Dressing Room 2'. The room was the complete opposite of the corridor - a comfortable sofa, mirrors, and a table laden with port wine, chocolates, ham, and Serra cheese, not to mention a large bouquet of red roses.

"This is your dressing room, make yourselves at home. Sofia doesn't need any makeup, but Miguel should have some touch-ups... makeup to dressing room 2!" he called out while scurrying back down the corridor.

"See here, nothing wrong with this, have a glass of port and some chocolate - you'll see how it calms you down," Miguel told me while helping himself to a glass of port and some slices of black pork ham.

"I hope you're right, but this still isn't my scene. I don't know if I'll be a good model - I've never liked putting myself on display," I said while drinking a glass of port.

"I know you don't like it, but I enjoy seeing you, and I enjoy others seeing and admiring you - and Carla thinks like I do. Look in the mirror, see how beautiful you are in that green dress, look at your face, your dignified bearing, that hair of yours - tell me Carla and I are wrong."

No, they weren't wrong. I was beautiful and elegant, and I was an extremely confident woman in my work as a teacher. But this world of lights and cameras was strange and uncomfortable to me. I drank two more glasses of port wine and ate some chocolates while Miguel received attention from the makeup artist, and finally, the young man with glasses returned."It's time - we're on in 9, 8, 7..." Miguel reached for the leash in his pocket, his fingers brushing against my neck as he clipped it to my slave collar. The familiar weight settled against my throat as he led me toward the stage, the port wine's warmth giving me just enough courage to face what was coming.

"And now, please welcome the couple everyone's talking about, Miguel Mourato and Sofia Santos!" Tininha announced in her characteristic shrill voice, rising to greet us as the audience applauded. In fact, Tininha was quite an elegant woman with her blonde hair, and shapely legs that appeared with each step through the slit of her sequined dress. In person, she was shorter than she appeared on telly, as she greeted us with air kisses.

"My darlings, thank you for agreeing to appear on our show and share what millions of viewers want to know," she continued in her high-pitched, frantic voice while directing us to our seats - two shocking red velvet chairs in the middle of the stage.

"Who is Sofia Santos? How does a History teacher become a slave and then turn into a social media phenomenon?" She said, then turning to Miguel, "and how does a 53-year-old pharmacist become Portuguese women's most desired man?" She paused while behind us, the screens displayed their calculated montage: my childhood photos, university years, staff pictures with colleagues - I wondered uneasily how she'd obtained them all. Then came the footage from Coconuts nightclub on that fatal night, and finally, that viral video - me, drunk and vomiting on Miguel as he desperately tried to save Luis Silveira's life. I was left speechless, wanting to flee from there. It had been a mistake coming here, but thankfully Miguel stepped in.

"Tininha, you're being rather dramatic when you say I'm Portuguese women's most desired man - in a country with Cristiano Ronaldo and Paulo Pires, it's clearly an exaggeration, especially since I've never sought that kind of attention," he responded with his characteristic calm smile. But the truth was that while Cristiano Ronaldo might be a god, Miguel was the neighborhood pharmacist who could actually have coffee with any of these women.

Tininha turned her predatory attention towards me. "Sofia, your colleagues used to call you 'The Nun', but now surely you've discovered the pleasures of the flesh. Tell us, what did it feel like going from a free woman to a slave? How has your life changed?" It was a difficult question to face while images of the accident and my trial played in an endless loop behind us. I drew a deep breath before answering

"Many lives changed in that moment, especially Luis's - he lost his life. At that moment, I didn't realize what was happening, or what I had done. Only Miguel remained focused on saving a life despite having a broken arm and a hysterical drunk woman vomiting on him." I tried to hold back tears, thinking that moment was more defining of Miguel's character than his performance during The Pillory.

"And you, Miguel, what did you feel when you first met Sofia?" Tininha shifted her focus back to Miguel - I suspect she's one of those women who find him Portugal's sexiest man, the bitch!

"In reality, I felt nothing. I don't remember anything - only when they showed me the footage did I realize everything that had happened."

"And later, when you learned Sofia would be assigned to you as a slave, as compensation for your broken arm and punishment for Luis's death?" I waited anxiously for his answer. We had never talked about this,I had avoided it. He too had never spoken about it - it was something that had happened but which we never discussed, the broken arm and the damaged car, as if Luis had been the only victim.

"She wasn't assigned to me," Miguel said, his fingers unconsciously tightening my leach. "Her lawyer thought I would be the best option for his client. The other options were prison or Luis's mother, Mrs. Constança. At the time, I thought she was trying to escape just punishment, and I had to be convinced to accept her. But truthfully, I never felt any hatred or desire for revenge against Sofia. However, Luis's words as he was vomiting blood before dying - those still haunt me some nights. At first, the dreams where I tried to save Luis were constant." I hadn't known this either. I'd seen Miguel having restless dreams, his body tense beside me in the darkness, but I'd never known the ghosts that haunted him.

"Is what Miguel is saying true - did you want to escape punishment? Is that why you chose to be his slave?" Tininha leaned forward, her sequined dress catching the harsh studio lights. The tone of the question was accusatory, and unfortunately, the accusation was true.

"Unfortunately, yes." The words felt like ashes in my mouth. "Now I feel ashamed to admit it, but the truth is that at the time everything was terribly frightening, and I still hadn't internalized my crime - I continued thinking it had been just an accident." The screens were showing me completely naked in the courtroom right after the sentence was passed, only my nipples and vulva pixelated. This was an afternoon show watched by middle-aged housewives, their eyes judging me through their television screens - what would the next question be?

"Miguel, what were Luis's final words that affected you so deeply?" The studio fell silent as the screens returned to the moment of the accident and the image of me vomiting. The harsh studio lights appeared to dim as if they were holding their breath.

"MOTHER!" Miguel's voice cracked slightly. "The last word Luis uttered with his final breath was 'mother.'" His voice was heavy, each word seeming to cost him dearly. I could see the moisture in his eyes as he fought to maintain composure. The audience sat in oppressive silence, their collective gaze weighing on me like a physical force - or perhaps my guilt made me feel it that way. The familiar sensation of being judged washed over me again, just as it had in the courtroom.

"And with these dramatic revelations, we come to the end of our first part. We'll return in moments with the second part of Sofia and Miguel's story," Tininha announced.

CLACK! "We're off air," called out the cameraman. The young assistant rushed onto the stage with a tablet, his glasses slightly askew in his excitement. "Boss, the ratings are at historic highs," he said while showing the tablet to Tininha, as other assistants swarmed around us with water bottles and makeup brushes, frantically touching up our faces. Tininha turned to Miguel and me, her professional mask slipping to reveal genuine enthusiasm.

"Carla was right - you're perfect, genuinely human. People are going to love you." I was dumbfounded - I'd thought people would sooner lynch me than love me. If the objective was to promote me, I thought things couldn't be going worse.

"And Miguel is being spectacular - no wonder women desire him." I didn't understand why the focus was on Miguel.

The assistant returned again, Miguel and Tininha also came back to their places. I was anxious to know what the second part of the show had in store for me - perhaps images of me drowning cats.

"In 10, 9, 8... CLACK! We're on air," he said in his frantic manner.

To be continued...