Warning: This is a very dark story containing many disturbing themes such as noncon, humiliation, degradation, corruption, sexual slavery, misogyny, sadomasochism and more. Do not read this story unless you are okay with extreme content relating to the listed themes.
I do not condone or endorse any of the activities described in this story. Sexual fantasies can be a fun and safe way to explore fetishes but always treat real people with respect. Fantasize responsibly. ^^
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Dread peeked around the stage curtain and out at the audience that currently filled the Sun Stage theater. The several hundred seats were all occupied, and an energetic, anticipatory buzz filled the air. Dread arranged a deal with the theater's owner, a man called Lavie Creen, in order to use the stage for his event. Dread won over Lavie, a greasy and greedy man, by promising to allow him to serve as a judge. The role of judge came with several sexual privileges and proved to be a weighty bargaining chip.
Lavie's staff performed as well as promised, and they smoothly organized the event with little warning. Come sunset, the stage had been prepared, and the event was ready for Myla's fall into depravity.
A tall, graceful woman who served as stage manager approached Dread and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "The guests have been seated, and we can begin," she said.
Dread thanked her and stepped out in front of the curtain. Chatter died down, and hundreds of attentive eyes met him.
"Welcome," Dread boomed, "to my talent contest hosted on the Sun Stage!"
Applause answered him, and he waited for the hubbub to die down before continuing.
"I am King Dreadhex of the Dark Lands, and I'm excited to introduce our performers. But first, I will explain the nature of our event!"
More scattered applause and curious eyes.
"This contest is unique, unlike anything you've seen before!" Dread said. "It will take place over three days and comprise five events. Each event will provide a scintillating spectacle. Our panel of expert judges will score the performers."
The curtain pulled open and revealed a table where six men were seated. Wreven, Vallim, and Lavie were notable faces among them, while the other three had been selected from Dread's criminal subjects. They had all been instructed by Dread beforehand, and they would vote according to his direction. The judges waved at the crowd, and they were greeted with polite applause.
"Our first event will introduce the performers, who will be judged on their looks and costumes. After that, we will have a dance event, which will conclude the proceedings for tonight. Tomorrow, we start with a short interview event, followed by an unusual variety of race. The final day will involve a popularity contest, and then we will declare the winner."
The crowd murmured among themselves, no longer clapping, and they were no doubt discussing the strange nature of the contest Dread had organized.
"Speaking of the winner," Dread continued. "The lucky lady who walks away victorious will earn five hundred gold coins!"
The audience cooed before breaking out in excited applause. Five hundred gold coins was a small fortune, and it had the power to transform a life.
"Without any more delay," Dread said. "Let us begin. I will introduce our performers, who will be scored on their looks and outfits! Please welcome our first girl, a dancer from the elegant swan theater troupe, Poulet!"
The crowd applauded politely as a girl pranced onto the stage, posing to showcase her costume. Poulet had dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun, and she wore a traditional dance leotard with stockings underneath. Flat dancer shoes completed her costume. She bowed to the left, twirled, bowed to the right, and then turned to face the judges with formal, straight-backed posture.
"What do our judges think of Poulet?" Dread asked.
The first judge, a rough robber named Orf, took a deep pull from a wineskin and burped. The audience murmured at his uncouth display, but he didn't seem to notice. He studied the girl from small, creased eyes.
"I don't know much about dancing," he said. "But this Poulet's outfit is bout as good as a hound's flea-bitten arsehole."
The girl frowned and wrung her hands. The other judges shouted their assent.
"Show some damn skin at least," Orf said. "Is this supposed to be entertaining?" He stood up and pointed at the girl. "You're flat as a board and not so pretty to make up for your boyish body. Are you even trying to look good?"
The murmurs in the crowd grew.
"Do our other judges have anything to say?" Dread asked.
A pause stretched on, broken only by hushed conversations in the crowd, but no other judge spoke to rebuke Orf.
"Seems not," Dread said. "Let's see your scores."
The judges were to raise their hands with fingers representing their score, from one to ten. Every single judge raised a single finger, giving Poulet a score of one. Lavie, the old theater owner, pointed his thumb down as he delivered his score.
"Oooh," Dread said, affecting dismay. "Seems the judges didn't like Poulet much. She receives six points in the first event of our contest. Thank you, Poulet, now please clear the stage."
Poulet burst into sobs and ran off, crying into her hands.
"Next, we have a real crowd-pleaser. Welcome Cresha, a table dancer!"
Cresha bounded out onto the stage, her enormous breasts bouncing with every step, and she wore a seductive smile. Curly chestnut brown hair cascaded behind her as she made her entrance. She wore a revealing dress with a long slit that showed much of her legs, and the plunging neckline barely contained her breasts. Cresha was a dancer in a famous middle district brothel, and she earned no small notoriety among patrons.
The judges cheered louder than the crowd as the table dancer made her entrance.
Blowing a kiss to the right, Cresha winked and bent towards the left side of the stage before spinning and facing the judges. She planted her hands on her hips and cocked her head, grinning at the men.
"So," Dread said, waiting for the applause to die down. "What do our judges think of Cresha?"
