The Gameshow

Please note: This is towards the darker end of the non-consent genre, involving kidnap fantasies, blackmail and lots of emotional conflict. The tags are as descriptive as I can make them, building on a collection of fantasies shared by 'Roxy' in real life. If you choose to read on I hope you enjoy it! And as ever, thanks for reading.

**************************************************************************

******************£10 000 000 MUST BE WON!******************

****************DO YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES?****************

**********ARE YOU SKILLED IN GIVING ORGASMS?**********

*******DO YOU WANT TO SERVE YOUR COUNTRY?********

If you can answer yes to all of these questions, find out

more and apply to enter here: fertilitydrive

***************************************************************************

Roxy looked with disgust at the leaflet that had dropped onto the mat in their freezing porch. This lying, cheating government, the same one that had recklessly destroyed the economy and had buried or ignored the warnings about the national fertility crisis for the past decade, now had the cheek to use their own cost of living crisis to try to entice desperate people to sign up to their fertility drive.

Roxy was about to chuck the leaflet in the recycling when Steve rolled his bike to a stop outside their house. Spying the £10 million figure emblazoned across the top of the flyer in her hand, he exclaimed:

"You're throwing away something that offers us ten million pounds?! Holy shit that would sort our problems out. Hang on, let me take a look."

Scanning it quickly, a quick grin spread over his features.

"I can answer yes to at least one of those three questions," he said, waggling his fingers in Roxy's direction.

In response, she slapped him playfully on the ass, infuriated embarrassment sneaking across her features:

"Yes, yes, so your magical fingers can make me cum repeatedly. I bow down to your magnificence, oh great one." The faux sarcasm didn't phase him; this was a teasing game they always played.

Steve knew that mentioning the use of his fingers would bring images to Roxy's mind that would almost guarantee that he would be using his fingers for real later that evening.

And Roxy knew that Steve knew this, but played the sarcasm card enthusiastically anyway. The chemistry between them was being communicated as clearly as if Steve had returned on his bike, looked at Roxy and said: "I'm going to fuck you later." And, as Roxy readily admitted to herself, either method of communicating Steve's intentions was just fine with her.

Even as they continued to playfully argue about the merits of trashing government propaganda before reading it, Roxy's mind drifted just as Steve had intended it would with his reference to his fingers.

She revelled in the certainty of her own pleasure with Steve. In 33 years of life she had always known that her sex drive was on the high side but she had rarely found either partners or one-off lovers that could service her desires. She had learnt to become a real expert with her vibrator and for a long time had settled for the control that this gave her over her own pleasure.

But then she met Steve. At first sex with him was much like all her previous experiences; great fun but with real uncertainty over her own pleasure. Sure she could make herself cum with her trusty bullet vibrator but she craved the feeling of reliably cumming around a fat cock buried in her pussy.

Steve knew this, was unashamedly determined to learn every inch of her body, and was unabashed as she gradually educated him in what turned her on.

Then, in a masterstroke, Steve suggested that she combine her preferred submissive posture (head buried in a pillow, face-down, pussy exposed for anyone to take her) with his fingers playing the role of unknown cock. (Although, at the time, she hadn't yet admitted to Steve the submissive element of her character.)

It had worked like a dream and, a couple of years later, Roxy had come to feel 100% confident that she could call on Steve to give her four, five or six (or once 16!) orgasms in a row. The best part was that, once his fingers had made her cum once, his cock could do the same job with almost effortless ease. She revelled in the sensations of cumming repeatedly around his thick shaft buried deep inside her.

Roxy had marvelled at the wider impact that this certainty of pleasure had had on her. Steve had always been completely open about his sexual preferences, particularly his exhibitionist desires. As Roxy found that sexual pleasure played a more and more central role in the strength of their relationship she found herself indulging in, and developing with Steve, her own deepest, darkest desires.

Roxy loved the idea of being used sexually. This idea took the form of various recurring fantasies that she found herself divulging with ever-decreasing inhibition to Steve. As Steve's comments about his magical fingers stirred these deep recesses in her brain, she drifted into one of these fantasies now...

Woken by a crash downstairs, Roxy went instantly into fight or flight mode, her body surging with adrenalin. As this adrenalin kicked her out of her deep sleep, she sat up, immediately alert, heart pounding.

"Shit, it's probably just the neighbours," she thought to herself, trying to bring herself back down so that she could return to sleep. Then she heard the creak of the stair. "Oh fuck, that's not the neighbours..."

Completely naked, Roxy's instinct was simply to pull the covers up to her chest and hope, irrationally, that she was imagining this. That hope was dashed as the bedroom door banged open and three masked men ran into the room.

One held a still-mostly-asleep Steve pinned to the bed under the duvet, whilst the other two ripped Roxy's side of the duvet away, whistling in admiration at her beautifully proportioned form.

One man stuffed a gag in her mouth then threw a bag over her head, before a second hoisted her naked body over his shoulder. Intentionally or not, as he lifted her by her thigh his rough, calloused hands slid up to rest firmly against her outer pussy lips.

Roxy was terrified. She fought all she could, but was no match for the brute strength of the two men. Her terror masked any other emotions, and so she was as surprised as the man carrying her when he shifted the position of his hands to carry her down the stairs and felt his fingers slide in slick wetness.

"Holy fuck, I'm soaked!" Roxy thought to herself. "What the fuck is going on here? I'm being abducted! I can't be excited by this!" Yet her body was telling a different story and, as the man carried her down their stairs and towards the front door, she forced herself to examine the emotions running riot beneath her terror.

Her heart felt as though it had been hit by a sledgehammer. "That'll be the adrenalin," she tried to convince herself. But then she focused lower, and felt the fire burning in her pussy and the electricity in her belly. Disgusted as she was with herself, she knew her body well enough to diagnose the telltale signs of sexual desire.

Determined to force these emotions back down into the dark recesses of her brain, she wriggled and hit the man carrying her. In response, he shifted his weight and grip and slapped her pussy hard. The sting she felt enraged her, but the tingle in her pussy lips made her feel dizzy with need.

"Quit wriggling, bitch, unless you want both of us to fall down these stairs." By way of punishment, the man roughly shoved two fingers into the pussy that was still smarting from being slapped, gripping her body firmly through her front pussy wall to hold her on his shoulder.

In response, Roxy's nipples hardened to bullets almost instantly. She felt the need for cock forcing its way into her mind; a neediness for someone to control her, to dominate her, to take her. Before she could get control of this need, she found herself fantasising about this man throwing her onto the floor and pummelling her without warning or respite.

"What is wrong with me?!" she angrily wondered.

The cold air hit her already rock-hard nipples as the intruders bundled her out into the street. Equal parts desperate for neighbours to spot her and horrified that they might see her naked, she screamed for help. But to no avail - her gag muffled her scream so that it emerged as a whimper and before she knew it she was bundled into a van, strapped face down onto a modified bench in the back and tied at both ankles so her legs were forced apart.

It was obvious what was coming next; as the van screeched away from the kerb she sensed a man looming over her. The rage she felt at her abduction was matched by the heat flowing from her pussy and the base need to submit to her abductors. As she felt a rigid cock drive deep into her dripping pussy she could not have determined whether the sound that escaped around the gag was a groan of rage or desire.

---

"Sorry, what?" Roxy reluctantly let go of her fantasy, idly wondering what Steve would say if she admitted the full detail to him.

"I said we should at least follow the link - see what the competition is. We'd be stupid not to with what our gas bill and mortgage cost us last month. And with the debts we need to pay off...this could be the answer and more."

"Fine," Roxy exhaled. "Let's take a look."

Using brand new technology, the Department for the Encouragement of Families is offering a life-changing prize of £1 000 000 each to ten lucky couples who can give the most orgasms in a specified one-month period.

You will need to consent to a small sensor being fitted to your genitalia that can sense each orgasm you experience. To qualify as a valid orgasm, you must be in close proximity to a sensor from someone of the opposite sex. As you orgasm, the sensor detected close to you will record this and award an orgasm to its owner.

Should you fall below a minimum requirement of 100 orgasms per couple in the specified month, you will become liable for the full costs of this technology of £19 750 per sensor. However, as long as you achieve that minimum level the sensor and fitting will be free of charge.

To qualify for the competition, you must be between 18 and 45 and must not be using any form of contraception.

"Holy fuck!" Steve exclaimed. "They're serious about this. That's batshit crazy. Though I can hardly say I'm surprised."

Turning to Roxy, he anticipated a similarly dismissive response from her. So he was surprised to see a gleam in her eye. "We could do this you know," she said.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"You know how much you make me cum. And how much we both love sex. We'd smash this! And we want kids, too."

Steve thought it over. It was true; since learning how to use his fingers to give her pleasure, he could make Roxy cum as often as he and she liked. At the very least, the 100 orgasms wouldn't be any trouble at all. In fact, the worst that would happen is that they would have a month of relentless sex, which they were planning to do anyway as they were ready to have kids. What's not to like?

"Okay, let's do it."

---

After submitting their application, not much changed until they went to the clinic to have their fertility checked and sensors fitted. It all felt a bit surreal but, as the start of the qualifying month ticked by, Steve and Roxy fucked enthusiastically. It was as if the competitive element itself turned her on - she found herself cumming eight times in a row in the first night, before Steve pumped her full of his cum. Each time one person came, their own sensor buzzed to confirm that their orgasm had been 'claimed' by the other person's sensor.

Checking the apps they had both downloaded, they were delighted to see nine orgasms registered to their couple's account. Falling asleep contentedly in each other's arms, Steve then took the opportunity to wake Roxy in the middle of the night to add another four to the total.

Next morning, the news was wall-to-wall with the new competition. Views ranged from studied indifference to prurient disapproval, but it was clear that the whole nation was fascinated.

Just as Roxy reached to turn off the radio and head to work, she caught the end of a segment of different opinions on the competition. One voice caught and nagged at her:

It seems wrong somehow that competitors are penalised for not reaching 100 orgasms. I mean, there are many reasons why someone might not reach that level through no fault of their own. Nearly twenty grand seems a high price to pay. And of course, there are plenty of unscrupulous people who might take advantage of that.

Just another opinion-former (and there were plenty of those these days), but something about the truth of what she had said stuck with Roxy. It did leave people open to being taken advantage of. Dismissing the thought, though, she reasoned that she and Steve would have no trouble getting to 100, so it wouldn't affect them personally.

---

Steve raced home from work, eager to add more to their total. But, to his surprise, Roxy wasn't at home by the time he arrived, nor did she arrive in time for dinner time. Quashing a tinge of annoyance that they weren't maximising their time for the competition, he reasoned that they could make it up later and settled in to play his Playstation.

But when 9pm rolled round and there was still no sign of Roxy, Steve got worried. He tried calling, only to hear the familiar vibrations of her phone on her bedside table - she had clearly forgotten to take it to work.

Wracking his brains for what to do, he quickly dismissed calling the police - they would never take him seriously until she had been missing for a couple of days. Stumped, he returned to the competition app, reasoning that he could at least read up on the game, looking for angles and advantages for them.

Something was niggling at him as he read through the predictably useless FAQs, but he couldn't put his finger on what it was. Then it hit him; on the front page of the app he saw a big 14. He had been sure it had read 13 this morning.

"I must have imagined it," he said to himself, even though he knew he was usually pretty good at noticing things like this. Tapping his phone on his knee, he cast his mind back to the morning and tried to visualise what number he had seen. But of course, his mind now played tricks on him and he couldn't sort real memories from imagined ones.

Just as Steve had convinced himself that he must have miscounted, the counter flicked up to 15.

His stomach dropped like a stone.

---

Walking home from work earlier that evening, Roxy had allowed her mind to drift. Inevitably it turned to the competition and she wriggled with pleasure as she thought about Steve waking her in the middle of the night to give her several orgasms then fuck her hard.

She relived the powerlessnes and submission she felt under his powerful body. As she did so, her mind drifted further to the more extreme form of powerlessness that she had felt in her most recent fantasy kidnapping.

She returned to the scene in the back of the van; hooded and gagged, pussy and ass utterly exposed. She imagined each of the three kidnappers taking a turn to ram their unfamiliar and unseen cocks deep into her pussy. She felt the heat of their rods against the side of her slick pussy walls, and felt a deep need to be at their mercy, to be seen simply as a piece of meat to be impaled, rather than a human being.

As Roxy developed this scene in her head, she could sense her body reacting; beads of sweat appeared on her skin despite the coolness of the day, her nipples strained and rubbing deliciously against the bodystocking that she had secretly put on without any panties so that she could surprise Steve later. She could feel the wet heat building in her pussy as she slipped further and further from the mundane walk home into the extremes of her fantasy...

Suddenly, the van stopped and the doors were thrown open. Expecting a warehouse or similar, she was shocked to hear the sounds of revelry behind her. Roxy had no idea what was going on but she could clearly pick out a crowd of voices gasping and murmuring their approval as a spotlight was shone into the van.

After a delay that Roxy felt was endless, she felt the telltale squeak of springs as a person, or people, got onto the tailgate of the van. Then out of nowhere soft, slender fingers were caressing her back. She registered a note of surprise, gratitude but also frustration at the softness of the touch, as two hands stroked the length of her back, sending shivers down her spine straight into her swollen pussy lips.

The gentle stranger touching her gradually upped the ante, letting her hands drift over Roxy's ass and the sides of her tits. Her initial frustration at the softness of the touch melted away into a warm sensation of being held and cared for, even as she was so clearly at the complete mercy of strangers staring at her dripping pussy.

A second set of hands joined the first, these rougher and clearly with more invasive intent. One hand reached down, dragging calloused fingers upwards and downwards across her stomach. Each time the hand went up, it got closer to the sensitive underside of her beautiful tits. By now, the sensations of her skin being explored by at least two strangers had Roxy's horror at her abduction being overtaken by a wanton need to be used in the worst way.

Being completely blind under her hood heightened every other sensation. The hands caressing and dragging across her skin felt like little bolts of electricity running over her. The sensations took so much of her awareness that she didn't even notice a third set of hands resting on the round globes of her perfectly proportioned ass. That was until she felt the sharp sting of a spank, immediately followed by a caress that turned the pain into a deep sense of pleasure.

The hand dragging up and down her stomach rose higher and higher, before massaging the undersides of her tits. Before she was able to process this further invasion rationally, she found herself willing the hand to reach and abuse her nipples. Yet it remained tantalisingly close, stimulating the edge of both aereolae and driving her need for sexual release ever higher.

Roxy was deep, deep into her fantasy, walking the streets home on automatic. She couldn't have recalled a single thing about the previous five minutes' walk. But her vivid imagination was spilling over into the real world. Unbeknownst to her, as absorbed as she was, the telltale signs of arousal were on display for others to sense even if only subconsciously.

Her skin was flushed, her breathing was deep and irregular, and her long nipples were tenting obscenely through the thin blouse and lacy bodystocking. Hidden from view between her legs, a slickness was growing minute by minute, dampening her crotch.

To outward appearances, and to almost anyone who knew her other than Steve, Roxy was the picture of respectability. She was the one that men would imagine taking home to meet their families, the one who would make an incredible mum. But just under the surface was a depraved secret that only she and Steve knew (and even he didn't know the full extent of it).

Once aroused, Roxy's need for sexual release overpowered every other faculty she had; her reasoning, judgement, sense of self-preservation and morals all played second fiddle to her insistent need to be rammed full of cock. The less opportunity she had to give consent to this the better; her fantasies (including her current one) often revolved around being forced to fuck powerful strangers.

She was convinced that she wanted these fantasies to remain just that, fantasies, though in recent years she had caught herself idly wondering how she would react if the choice whether or not to make her fantasies real was taken away from her.