As she took a short quick break before getting back to work, Chantelle took a quick glimpse at the clock as it ticked away towards her freedom.
It was friday afternoon, approaching five pm, and like so many others across the country she was looking forward to the freedom that the weekend temptingly offered.
Unlike most others however, Chantelle wasn't a nine to five worker, and as her steel collar and handcuffs attested, the freedom the clock offered wasn't metaphorical.
She sucked in another long breath through her nose, and then plunged forward. The thick dildo between her lips wet from her ministrations helping it slip deep into her throat. As she felt herself reaching the limit she finally felt her nose smash against the button.
She no longer needed to fight back the urge to choke, less than two hours ago she'd still had trouble with that, but after the rigorous practice she'd been performing of late, she could now rest assured that she could swallow sausage like the best of whores. Something new to put on the cv perhaps?
Her jaw ached from the strain as she pulled back after just a moment at the limit, sliding her lips back along so her lips gently wrapped around the head. Her neck hurt from bobbing back and forth, her tongue numb from being pressed down time and time again, her nose bruised from smashing into the button too vigorously. She was slowing down. She was reaching the limit of her stamina but as the clock ticked away she knew she must keep up the pace.
This obviously hadn't been her plan for the day when she woke up that morning. No secret wish to learn the finer points of sluttery, no application to dicksucker academy. She'd gotten up bright and early, ready for her part time job at the cafe, locked her house, walked to the subway, she stepped into the railcar and then everything had gone downhill from there.
The clock ticked down, four minutes and fifty nine seconds. She plunged forward once more. Back and forth back and forth. Each time she plugged away, her nose pressed the button at the end of her travel.
"Gentlemen, as we head into the last five minutes our final two contestants have been giving it their all for almost two hours. Please, give them a round of applause."
Oh, she'd forgotten to mention the audience.
Chantelle was a stunner. Her smooth sable skin was the envy of her friends, and her wavy afro looked almost effortless, though it most certainly was not. In summation, she was no supermodel but she knew she set some people's hearts aflame, and she liked that.
She'd read in the newspapers about women who'd been kidnapped and raped, and despite the mixed feelings she held about it, she always thought that it would be someone like her. She took precautions, never walked alone, always took public transport, and trained in women's defence.
It hadn't helped when a few strong men was all it took to manhandle her somewhere quiet where they could bundle her into a van.
She'd been brought here, wherever here was, after being bound and gagged. Blinded by a hood she'd been unable to offer anything but token resistance as she was shoved into a van and driven around for what felt like hours.
When they'd arrived she'd been taken to a bare concrete room and stripped before being chained by her neck to the ceiling. Finally her hands had been freed, but then the panic had set in. What was going to happen to her?
Most worrying was that the chain she had been locked into wasn't alone. There had been eleven other unfilled chains set into the ceiling with a collar at the end of each, steel devices that had been filled up as more women were brought into the room.
Once all twelve collars had been filled with naked nubile young women the men had returned with costumes for their upcoming debut. Black leather catsuits had been pooled beneath their kicking legs and under threat of being forced to go naked they'd begrudingly dressed themselves. High heeled boots had been locked around their feet, and leather mittens curled their hands into useless balls to render them truly helpless.
Only then, clad in skintight leather and helpless as babes, had a masked man entered and began to explain to them their predicament.
Of the twelve of them, eleven were set to be sold as slaves at the end of the day. To decide which of them would be free they would have to participate in a gameshow.
Obviously she protested loudly and wordlessly, but also recognised that she wasn't in any state to actually fight back. The only way to freedom would be to win it.
The man continued, explaining the rules with help of a diagram. A realistic looking dildo with a light sensor just behind the head and a button at the base at nose height. To successfully press the button the light sensor needed to be obscured, to reset the button the light sensor must be activated. They would have their hands handcuffed behind their backs and their lower body tied into a kneeling position over a saddle. Leaving them little choice, as was likely intended.
There were other rules, the masked man, explained, no teeth, no talking, no cheating. For each forbidden act, one hundred points would be deducted from their score, with a button press counting as one point.
The rounds would last ten minutes, at the end of the round the woman with the lowest score would be eliminated and would be sold as a slave at the show's end. With each round having a reset score, Chantelle quickly realised that the issue here wasn't about speed, it was endurance. With a ten minute ad break in the middle that meant they would be at it for two hours. And if any of them wanted to be free they needed to avoid being last for that entire time.
They'd been brought on stage shortly after, and a glance at the studio clock said three pm. She'd been missing for six hours. Hopefully her work had called the police to alert her, but she held no misplaced hope that they'd find her in such a short space of time.
As much as she hated it, she played along with their sick game. Even as the audience jeered and cheered as the timer started and their gags were removed she didn't try to retain her dignity by yelling at the freaks leering at her, instead she leaned forward and gently gave the twelve inches of silicone a test.
Unsurprisingly she fell extremely short of the goal. But as she heard another victim yell obscenities at the audience, she was certain that even if she earned no points that someone else would be eliminated this round.
