Slavery Games Ch 03 Coached

Here is Bridgett's article about Slavery Games. Like the first part, this article is not intended for children. If you are an opponent of Slavery law, you should skip it.

*

The testimonies I received from slaves during the previous week had made a mess of my mind. I needed to find calm after the disaster that the second crucifixion show turned into.

I went home and undressed so I could have a look at the electronic tag that was rubbing my ankle raw. It had been placed there to ensure I would come to the next show.

If I didn't, I would be made a slave immediately. That's the fate for the coaches who fail to keep their trainees on the cross for long enough. My brain was so frazzled, I was wondering if it wouldn't be better to accept slavery rather than being hung and displayed on a cross.

I began to cook since Alejandra wasn't home. She had participated in the first crucifixion show and when I interviewed her in the slave pen's I had taken the life changing decision to become her coach. Since that event, she had spent most of her nights at my home, usually naked. I really enjoyed it. I hadn't realized that I was bisexual, nor had she but the game show had joined us together. Our relationship was forged from the extremes of the game show. By the time I heard the door, the meal was nearly cooked.

"Hi, Bridgett! I met Patrick Saint-Andrew earlier and we came to an agreement," she said. Patrick was the show organizer and the sentence was supposed to be happy and upbeat but her tone of voice betrayed considerable anxiety.

"He accepted that my articles are enough advertisement, so I don't need to climb on that cross?" I asked hopefully aiming to lighten the mood.

"Err, not exactly... He accepted that I will be your coach, but if you end up as a slave I will not have to compete again. Our fates are still linked," she said quickly. Something was odd I thought but I couldn't quite say what exactly was wrong.

Alejandra knew how to distract me though, she stripped naked and went into her slave fantasy. She served us our dinner and lead me to the bedroom.

"Strip!" she ordered. I was stunned. She had just given me an order. What?

"I'm no longer the slave, Bridgett. I'm your coach. You need to exercise and to get used to being naked!" she said.

All week long she kept me busy, making me do lunges and squats as well as quite a lot of running. I easily understood the reason why. I was scared but she was good at making me forget my worries in bed afterwards.

I was shivering as Alejandra and I descended into the Slavery Game Limited basement. On my previous trips I'd been a reporter or a coach. Today, I'm still a journalist, but I'm the one that will stay in one of the cells held naked and possibly not to return to life as a free woman. I was glad Alejandra held my hand while we were following Patrick Saint-Andrew. I had not noticed the previous times how grey, cold, and hostile the walls were. I didn't belong here. At that very moment, I would have run away had it not been for the electronic bracelet fastened around my ankle. I couldn't remove it so I knew I would have nowhere to hide. I noticed a table had been added in the middle of the corridor. I stepped to the side to have a look at what was laying there and behind Patrick were three slave collars. My blood ran cold.

I also felt Alejandra's reaction at the sight of the symbols of slavery, as she stopped walking. She was usually so confident but I could tell how nervous she was.

"I thought you would appreciate having a look at them!" Patrick said with a wide smile. I had to reply but struggled to find the words.

"Are they fake?" I asked.

"I don't like the word 'fake'. They are true slave collars, but they are transitional ones. Be sure the wearer is already a true slave. Not just for trying of course," he joked. I didn't appreciate his sense of humour but the reality of how little that mattered was starting to sink in.

"I... I will try..." Alejandra stuttered. She approached the table and took one of them and held it up to her neck. I was afraid Patrick would say that she should be kneeling to close it around her neck, but he did not.

"It's ... large... and heavy!" she said while putting it back on the table. She was scared. So was I. Did these devices have any other purpose than scaring us? Perhaps tomorrow they would be locked around our necks. Even if they were 'transitional' we would be slaves for life. It made me think of what Patrick explained to me the first time I met him, that losing is a way to become a slave without having to ask for it. But I'm a winner I thought. Well, I wasn't so sure now. I was so afraid of not being able to win!

"It has to be noticeable," Patrick explained. "But we don't have all the time we want! You know you mustn't meet the other participants. Here is a kind of changing room," he said while opening a door to a cloakroom. Fear paralyzed me. "Please Bridgett!" he insisted and I worked hard to move there. There were cases for me to store my private things. "You can put your clothes there and you will get them back afterwards." He didn't say it, but I heard the 'if you're still a free woman'. I looked around and there were no curtains. I began to close the door. "I prefer it stays open," he said looking at me. I looked at both of them. Patrick didn't move and was still looking at me and enjoying my humiliation. Alejandra turned her back to me. I understood I had to disrobe without privacy!

I turned to face the back of the room. I chose to remove my clothes now because I knew I would have to take them off before going into the cell. I removed my shirt and bra first. I noticed my nipples were hard. I hadn't noticed that before in the turmoil of emotions I felt. I removed my trousers and panties at once and I put them in the cupboard. I was shaking and couldn't yet make myself turn around to face Patrick and Alejandra. Patrick went to the cupboard, closed it and put a lock on it.

"I'll keep the key for you as I see you have no pockets," he said cheerfully and laughed. I did not. I shielded my breasts and sex with my hands. I thought back to when I had met the first contestants. They had all done the same and as a free woman I had found it ridiculous and childish for people that were about to be displayed naked on a cross. And here I was doing the same thing, but I couldn't help it. I saw the smile on Patrick's face. Was he thinking the same?

"Here is your room, the room service is really reduced, I think," he said as he opened a cell. I went in. Alejandra followed me. The door closed behind us.

"Oh, Alejandra! I'm so scared," I managed to say.

"Being naked increases that feeling of helplessness, doesn't it?"

"Oh god, you're right. It cannot be worse!" I said. I was naked in a cell. I just had seen slave collars. I felt like a slave already. I thought of Cathy or Stephanie. I thought of Lana with guilt. 'They could force me to do whatever they want now!' was my main thought.

Alejandra went behind me. "You're prepared. Try to relax if you can. The others will be in the same emotional state," she reassured me. She explained she had to leave to eat. She took my hands and explained she had some things to do and would be back later in the afternoon. Then I felt a cuff at my wrist. She kissed me in my neck and cuffed the other wrist behind my back. "I love you, I trust you," she said and knocked at the door.

"But...!" I asked as she left me even more helpless than I was before. I couldn't even shield my breasts and sex with my hands!

I looked around. The cell was a not so small room with bare concrete walls. It felt cold, but wasn't, as I was naked, and I wasn't cold. In one corner there was a mattress and a toilet at the opposite end of the cell. The flooring was some sort of linoleum. Walking barefoot on it wasn't unpleasant.

I just had nothing to do. Being cuffed didn't help either. All I could do was to think about my fears: becoming a slave. The loss of control, of my property, of being so humiliated. Perhaps not being allowed to be clothed again! Not being allowed to discuss orders. Orders that would come from an unknown Master or Mistress.

A Master I couldn't choose! I could be sold. I would have no say by whom. I swallowed hard. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to be a slave if I could at least choose my Master...

That Master would decide for me. He could decide to change my appearance or beat me to death. I thought of Bethany whose Master decided to remove her fingers. I had tears in my eyes. I did not want to become a slave!

The door opened. And a petite woman entered. She looked at me. I felt like a pet or even an object and it dawned on me that I was to her. Was she deciding how much she would offer for me on the slave auction?

"I'm the esthetician. Follow me!" she said. And she led me through the corridors to a room that was looking like a hairdresser's salon. I was uneasy walking nude.

"Sit!" she said, and she removed the shawl she had around her neck revealing a collar. She was a slave too!

"I have to remove your bush down there!" she said pointing at my hairy pussy.

"I... I..." I began.

"It's not like we have any choice about that. I will also remove that electronic tag!" she said as she pushed me into the chair. It took her 20 minutes. I tried to speak with her, but all I could get was, I will reply after your performance on the cross.

I felt more naked and vulnerable than before. I thought of Alejandra. She had told me I had better shave down there and I should have listened to her rather than been forced to endure this.

Seeing the hairdresser had refocused my mind. I wasn't thinking of slavery now but about being crucified! In a few hours from now I would be hung on display and competing for my freedom.

I thought of the legs spread position. I thought of the cramps they got. I was so anxious. I would be in Alejandra's power. She could make me a slave or help me endure and escape with my liberty. 'Oh my God, what have I done?"

One thought remained. I hoped to be worthy if I was to be collared. I remembered the man that felt betrayed in the first session. But in what state of mind would I be after nearly one hour on the cross?

I was petrified with fear by the time Alejandra came back. What had she had to do? It's not like we could both be slaves by tomorrow I thought. How much time was she away? I had no clock in there.

"You're white as a ghost!" she said.

"I'm so fearful," I replied. "Please hold me."

"Oh, you met the hairdresser," she laughed looking at my hairless sex.

"Oh Alejandra, what if I fail tomorrow?"

"We would hope somebody wants a pair of lesbian slaves," she answered, but I realized her voice wasn't so sure. She was anxious also.

"I want you to kneel, and eat me," she ordered. It was the coach that spoke, not my slave. I had no choice but to obey. I was, after all, the one naked with my hands cuffed behind my back.

She raised the hem of her skirt. I thought of lowering her underwear using my teeth, but she wasn't wearing any! I went to her. I was more experienced than the first time we made love in one of these cells. Could a Master forbid such interaction between two slaves? I thought about Bethany's chastity belt and hoped with every cell in my body that this would not be the last time I made love to Alejandra.

As I smelled her scent and put my lips between her legs, I realized that I knew how excited she was -- how excited we both were. I was incredibly aroused too. I was a wet and willing slave slut. I wished I could use a hand on myself. She put her hand on my head and guided me to her pussy, her sensitive clitoris. Usually, I was in her place but now I was glad to be her slave. I wanted to be her slave. But this was impossible. If I ended up as a slave then she would become one too.

Her back was on the wall and she had her knees spread wide for me, as I would be displayed on a cross in hours. "Oh my god, I will be open and displayed for everyone to see," I thought while my tongue teased Alejandra's throbbing clit. After I'd made her cum, she looked at me and kissed me.

"I'm in a trance also!" she said and laughed. I went to her. I wanted her to use her hands between my legs, but she would not touch me that way. "You're my slave this evening, for once," she said.

"Is it evening already?" I asked.

"I'm not allowed to let you know!" she laughed.

She uncuffed my hands and told me to lay on my mattress. I wasn't used to her being so dominant. She went and sat on my face, holding my arms, teasing my nipples. I made her cum once again, and again when she fucked my face more forcefully and urgently. I almost came when she touched my clitoris with her tongue, but it was such a fleeting touch it left me panting with desire.

"Sleep as well as you can. I'll be with you tomorrow, Mistress!" she said.

I didn't sleep that badly. It could have been worse. I had been awoken by the hairdresser bringing me breakfast. I was fearful it might just be bread and water, but it was in fact the opposite and an extravagant affair. I was given a full continental breakfast with orange juice and a 1.5l bottle of water.

"The water is to keep you hydrated. You'll need it on the cross."

"Did you volunteer to be a slave?" I risked asking. She began to leave, then stopped.

"Not exactly. I lost at one of the first games. 'Make them cum'." She said as she swallowed.

"Oh... you were supposed to give hand jobs and the first man to cum and the women that took the most time to make her man cum were enslaved?" I asked.

"Yes, there was a hand job, a blowjob... and a footjob. I lost at the third one" she said and left in a hurry.

I couldn't help but notice this was my third participation in the game. I swallowed and tried to think about something else. I would need that meal. At the thought of what was to come, my stomach was knotted. I took some time but I finished the meal and kept the bottle, to take small sips of water. I had barely finished the bottle when the slave came again.

"Do you want another bottle?" she asked.

"Err, I'm afraid I would have to ..."

"To piss from the cross. It would be that humiliating that you prefer to end up as a slave?" she said sarcastically.

"You wanted to be a slave, I mean... how is it?" I asked. I was uneasy. How to ask a slave if they are happy with their fate? It was such an intimate question but I had to know.

"I thought I was ready for it. I was not and you're not," she said, and before she left she added, "You still have two hours".

I took the bottle again and drank a sip. She was right. I had fantasized a lot about becoming a slave but I had to fight with everything I had to remain free.

The truck was not comfortable at all. I was naked with my wrists tied it was difficult to keep any holder. I didn't dare to look at the others. In fact, the men were in front of me, but my competitors were beside me. It's them that I would evaluate to know if I had a chance. I felt like my bladder would explode. I was angry with the slave that had given me so much water. The journey seemed endless and yet I wasn't in a hurry for it to finish.

On arrival, two guards were assigned to help each contestant to get down. My wrists were briefly freed but only so my arms could be tied to the beam. It was the same for all the other contestants. each of us.

"Alejandra!" I called in distress. It was beginning already.

"She awaits you farther," one of the guards said softly. I was surprised at how gently he spoke. He was right though and I should have remembered the procedure as I had been a coach but I was so anxious I had forgotten.

"Caution, we are about to place the beam on your shoulders," a voice said. Once again, I felt gentleness. Then I felt the weight of the beam, and almost fell.

"It's quite heavy, but you'll manage," he said.

I heard the whip and looked in panic as to where it came from.

"Don't panic! Manage your beam's weight! The whip is just for the show. We're not here to hurt you just to crucify you. Move." I did as I was told. The guard at my side helped me to get the direction, and I just had to walk under the beam. I straightened and saw the place, the crowd. I saw the poles! I pushed on something with my barefoot, but before I fell one of the guards helped me to keep my balance.

"That's good," he said, "carry on and don't look at the pillars." In front of me all I saw were tanned legs. The girl seemed muscular to me. I was the one in the middle. I kept walking. Breathing was difficult. It was about to be done. Then I saw the poles again, we were between the men's ones and the crowd. The path was long, and the beam heavy. We passed the men. I realized they were naked. I remembered the way and we were almost at the crucifixion site. I followed the legs. I had no choice with a guard on each side. They seemed caring but the sound of the whip kept some stress on. We were still walking on the grass, but I felt lost. I searched for the poles with the eyes. Where are they? The guard moved my beam backwards, and I felt the pole in my back: 'My god, we've arrived!' I was in panic. I never wanted that. I saw Alejandra. She was not far and winked at me and I felt a lot calmer and more at peace with my fate for seeing her.

I just began to wonder what the guards were doing when they said: "We are about to raise you." The sentence was not finished before the guards began to raise the beam that held me up. I was on the tip of my toes. "Tiptoes," a guard said. I looked at him anxiously trying not to think too much about the enormity of what was happening. He smiled. "Breathe now and hold on," he said. "You can do it." I complied and just concentrated on filling my lungs while I could.

It pulled on my arms. It hurt. I needed to do something, and I searched for support with my legs. I only found the pillar. I knew it was useless but I had to try anyway in an attempt to raise myself by pushing against the pole. I couldn't breathe! I couldn't breathe!

I felt hands at my legs. They were pushing me up. I could breathe again. I straighten my legs. "Relax then get down," they said. I complied and I felt them tie my ankles to the pole. I pushed again. But this time I couldn't straighten my legs. When I tried I pulled on my arms, upwards. It was painful to try to keep up so I fell down, hung again from my arms. I realized I was nude. I tried to close my legs. It was impossible. I was nude, shaved, exposed. I looked down. Alejandra was in front of me, she smiled at me trying to give me confidence that it would be all right and willing me to fight. "Get up," the guards ordered, but I was unable to push up. My body moved to one side then the other. I felt the guards, hands on my bottom. They were keeping me up: it meant painless air: I breathed!

Then I felt a cold, slippery hand between my legs. It went to my ass. 'Oh my god, no. I'm being lubricated. It's for the dildo I will be impaled on!' I had almost forgotten that part!

"It's called a sedula, it will help you breathe but it has its own price," the guard said.

"Lower yourself onto it now," he advised. I didn't comply that time.

"Do it or it will be worse if you fall on it".

"Oh no," I tried to say, but I was already short on air, and I was getting tired.

I was desperate enough to breathe and remain free that I lowered myself onto the pole. I felt hands guiding me onto it. I really didn't want this. I didn't want it in my ass. But they pushed me down onto it.

"Don't fight it. It will go there anyway, Bridgett," Alejandra said gently.

She had fought it and it had really hurt her. I was trying to sit down and relax as much as I could but I was so overwhelmed. Naked, spread on display and now being impaled. It hadn't seemed so bad watching Alejandra used like this. I realised now that I'd actually enjoyed her pain and humiliation so I must be brave now it was my turn. I felt it pushing into me.