X-Competition

“Wakey-wakey ladies.”

The speaker was tinny and cheap, a contrast to the high-def cameras that surrounded us the bed. Me and the dark-haired tattooed stranger bound to me. Our thighs were tied to each other, legs spread and angled into and X-shape, with our crotches nearly touching. She was gagged as I was, her eyes confused and scared, probably like mine. Our wrists were bound above our heads, and between us…

“You’ve probably noticed you’re not in the club anymore, and maybe one or two other things.”

The reason our pussies weren’t mashed up against each other was because there was a pale ball shape between us. But that was only what was visible – a substantial length of thick silicone shaft extended from the ball into me – a thick, long, fake cock. Its unwelcome presence stretched me and pressed deep inside. I presumed my equally unwilling partner was equally penetrated from the other side of the ball.

“We’ve brought you here to play a little game. It’s a gambling game.”

We both had started squirming, tentatively but desperately, testing our bonds, trying to pull ourselves off the embedded double-ended dildo. We did succeed in fucking ourselves a little on the lubricated toy, but not much else. 

“The first one of you two to orgasm is the winner. You might be impressed how much money is already being wagered by your audience.

We both froze at that, staring at each other, and then at the red lights on all the cameras. I realized I was shivering, in humiliation and probably a little bit of shock.

“But we know our participants need to have motivation also. Between the two of you, the winner gets 5% of the total winnings. The loser, 1%. The loser also gets another ‘prize’: the contents of the game piece.”

The bright lighting shifted, spotlighting the center ball and our penetrated pussies. In the glare, the ball was pallid and translucent. In the center, a white lozenge shape and some darker mechanisms filled the sphere.

“That little reservoir is about three ounces of grade-A semen, from multiple fine donors. The contractions of first one of you to orgasm will cause that little prize to be pumped into the other of you.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“While you were asleep, your hosts established two things: One, neither of you is on any kind of hormonal or internal birth control; and two, both of you are ovulating today. That’s why you, and no one else at the club, are here. Just lucky. So, the two of you both have, as they say, skin in this game.”

I shook my head, desperate for escape, trying to call out for help, pulling at my wrists. But then I felt motion against and between my legs and looked over at the other woman. Her eyes were closed in concentration. She was breathing deep, and her hips were beginning little circular motions, as if she were trying to turn herself on. As if she were trying to get off. 

My scream at her was muffled by the gag, but it got her attention. She opened her eyes and looked at me. I stared back and shook my head. Her eyes softened for a moment, but then she gave a helpless shrug, closed her eyes, and started moving again.

The light had shifted again, brightly illuminating every inch of both of us. I stared in horror at my own obscene display for a few more ragged breaths, then I too closed my eyes, and tried to think of some way, any way, to find arousal. Somehow, I had to cum first.

Categories: Cassie Andra, Erotic Fiction, The Wrong AlphabetTags: , , ,

Cassi Andra

Old enough to know better and not care. Vanilla on the outside. Vanilla through and through, except for the mind. You don't want to go there, but I'll give you peeks. Be warned: erotica themes include standard fun, but also the taboo-est of the taboo. Coming of age, infidelity, family relations, dubious and non-consent. Every throbbing inch of it is, however, fantasy, and should be treated as such.

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