Bailey's Big, Bad Badminton Bet

by paratimelord

Summary:

Asher admits to being an aspiring 'racquet sharp,' yet he seemingly remained too fat to ever get good at badminton. The only people he ever seems to beat at his one-sided strip badminton are gay bottoms like Jayler—who WANT to lose. And so, across dozens of matches wagering $25 against her stripping, Bailey had won over $1000 off him. She hesitates when Asher raises the stakes to her being his sex toy for a day, and then a month, but Jayler lost to him intentionally, and he only made Jayler do chores. And, anyways, Asher just HAS to be too fat to ever be good at badminton ... right?

Notes:

I initially planned this to be a complete work on its own that would end when Asher gets Bailey home. This represented about half of the original story as I wrote it, but I wasn't entirely sure where I wanted to take the second half, and I planned on publishing that part as a separate, ongoing story. I still think I have two stories in the story of Bailey and Asher—to say nothing of the stories I have not written but I want to about some of Asher's other victims—however I now think that the logical break actually comes after the point I wrote the first draft to. As such I may end up finishing this as one story, but the planned series may stand alone for awhile.

Asher is named after Neal Asher, a science fiction writer known for grotesque and often surreal but picturesque works. The story was an attempt of writing a porn story that mimicked Asher's style, although I think only the part after Asher gets Bailey home (which is nowhere near complete) really starts to become so. As such, because I was going for vibes in this story the setting has a lot less worldbuilding background than most of my erotica. I borrowed terminology from my "Creaturedom Timeline," but this is a setting that is less notionally libertarian, except for the focus on the primacy of contracts.

In my original draft of this story, I made Bailey a law student who had finished undergrad at eighteen, in a conscious attempt to break my pattern of mostly writing stories like this featuring undergrad while still keeping the protagonist in the early 20s range I prefer to write subs/slaves/victims at. By the time I started revising I forgot that I had done that, and so I rewrote her as an undergrad student and decided to keep it that way. But at the same time, I forgot that I had made her yet another 'gifted'/neurodivergent bottom protagonist and my rewrite attempted to make her considerably more 'normie.'

There is M/M stuff in the second chapter referenced but not graphically described. I've decided as such to tag this work as strictly M/F, because the focus is on Bailey's experience which in this part is less intense than Jayler's, but far more vividly described.

Also, since AO3 policy is that I need to make this explicit: I welcome derivative works. In this case, since the story is ongoing, I would prefer not to know about anything except translation or fanart for the time being, because if I see someone else trying to continue or retell the story it might change how I continue it going forward. But I still welcome translation and fanart, and you are welcome to do alternate versions of this story or new stories involving the characters, just I ask you don't tell me until I've finished it—and if you do tell me I will not read your version before I'm finished.

Chapter 1: Big blokes bestn't bet on badminton

Summary:

Bailey meets Asher, a man with a penchant for betting money against one-sided strip badminton matches and losing.

“No, really,” said Artemis, “my treat.”

“You sure?” asked Bailey.

“Absolutely! I’m flush right now!”

“Good week?” Artemis was a part-time bartender, between classes.

Artemis shook her head and laughed. “Nah, I took it off this dude called Asher, easiest money I ever made.”

“You took it?”

“Well he gave it to me after he lost our badminton match.” Artemis shook her head. “17-4. It wasn't even close.”

“Bad game?”

Artemis shook her head. “Asher just sucks at badminton; I have no idea why he keeps trying.”

‘Asher’ was the kind of name that screams old money, which was reinforced by how easily he appeared to part with it, to say nothing of his sport of choice. Bailey had first pictured a Fred from Scooby Doo type but a decade or two older: preppy, athletic, equal parts fun and frustration, probably worked as an investment banker or something of that nature. Now, hearing of his athletic prowess, Bailey found herself imagining a man who was long and lanky in the limbs, tall and awkward and very possibly bespectacled. And easy to make money of badminton bets.

“Man,” said Bailey: “beating some rich dude at badminton—I envy you that gig.”

“You can do it too if you want?”

“What, really!?” Bailey had assumed her roommate would want to keep this kind of sweetheart arrangement to herself. Actually, a small part of her was wondering if it was some kind of sugar baby thing—not that Artemis really seemed like the sugar baby type.

“Yeah, sure. He's constantly looking for new badminton partners.” Artemis shook her head. “It baffles me how he can play that much and still be this bad at it. But it's easy money if you don't feel bad about taking it from him.”

 

***

 

“So I called your guy Asher,” Bailey told Artemis the next day, as she returned from her shift at the bar. “He warned me he was really bad at the game and then told me he only played $20 an hour.”

“Oh.” Artemis raised her eyebrows. “Well that's because you didn't indicate you knew he's a pervert.”

“Sorry what now?”

“He will pay college women $25 a game if they agree to play unilateral strip badminton. Dudes he pays $10 for the same thing. There's conditions of course on what clothes he lets you wear: has to be five items less than the set, pairs like socks and shoes count as one thing. But you only have to take anything off for the points he's ahead of you. One time I had to takeoff both my shirt and headband but that was the worst of it—a fluke—he got the first two points on me when I was off my game.”

“So one time, you literally lost your shirt to him?”

“Well, I got to put it back on after. And I was wearing a sports bra. He saw less than he would about the beach.”

Bailey goggled at her roommate. She really did not seem like the type to play strip badminton for cash, and certainly not with men. “How did you even hear about this dude anyways?”

“Friends. He's been doing this for awhile, apparently. They told me that there's some women he's apparently gotten completely naked, but they were really bad at badminton: like, ‘hot but clumsy quirky female protagonist in a romantic comedy’ bad. And a lot of dudes have lost him, but it seems like they do it on purpose. Rumor has it that he paid men and women the same once but got tired of seeing dicks, and that before that it was a two-way thing, but people got tired of seeing his dick, so he started betting money instead.”

“I see. So the risk of losing to him …”

“… is remote, unless you want to lose to him.”

“Of course not.”

“Yeah, you're not that type. Though I'm kind of surprised he hasn't had one exhibitionist women as a partner yet. Or even a chick who would let him see pity pussy before whipping his ass and taking his money.”

“He's nice about it though? About always losing?”

“Always a perfect gentleman in my experience.”

Bailey consider this new information. All things considered it couldn't hurt to call him again.

 

***

 

“Ullo?” The man's voice on the other side of the phone sounded distracted.

“Asher?”

“Yeah. Speaking.” There was a pause. “Who’s this.”

“It's Bailey. I called you yesterday about the badminton practice.”

“Oh yeah, hey!” It sounded like she had his full attention now. “So you’re interested?”

“Well actually, I heard…” Bailey trailed off. How the hell did she even broach this topic? “I, uh, OK this is gonna sound insane if it's not true but…”

“You heard about the strip badminton and you wondered if it's real?” Asher chuckled. “You're not the first young lady who's been reluctant to ask. So did you just want to confirm that it's a real thing or are you interested in that?”

“I'm … I'm interested. My friend said that I only have to strip if you’re ahead in points?”

“Yes, but to be clear: it’s not cumulative. Each time I score a point that puts me or keeps me in the lead you strip. I score a point and you take off your shirt. You score a point and then I score another one and you're taking off something else. Second thing to be the headband but the very first has to be short or shorts. I know I'm bad at badminton and I want at least a little something. But even if I get a point or two on you I'm not seeing anything I wouldn't at the swimming pool.”

“Yeah, OK.” One point especially in the first couple of rounds seemed almost inevitable. Bailey didn't like the idea of taking off her shirt or shorts because of that, but it was because it constituted public stripping. He was right that it wouldn't mean showing off anything she didn't in a bathing suit. In fact if she went shorts-first, it would be like a one-piece. “And I understand there's rules on what clothing I can wear.”

“Women’s singles are to 11 or 13, men’s to 15 or 17. In mixed matches I let my partner choose. But whatever you choose the items of clothing have to count up to five less than the lower number. So if you're doing 11/13, that’s six items. If you're wearing a T-shirt, shorts, underwear, headband, and shoes and socks, that’s seven items, even counting shoes and socks in pairs, you follow?”

“I … think so?”

“Two-piece underwear I always count as two pieces, although that’s been strictly academic so far. So to get to six, you have options. You can not wear the headband, or wear a one piece bathing suit as underwear, or count the shoes and socks together as just footwear. You can even count your shirt and bra together as top if you want to live dangerously. You will note down in front of the ref what your six pieces are—”

“There’s a ref?” Bailey interrupted.

“Of course,” he said. “I wouldn't want things to turn acrimonious. But anyways, of course if you're doing the men's singles numbers, you can have nine clothing items. So that same exact outfit, I called it seven things, right?”

He paused, seeming to wait for confirmation. “Uh…”

“Those same seven things: headband, shirt and shorts, bra and panties, shoes and socks? Now if you want we can even count the shoes and socks separately. Or you can add wrist protectors and count those separately. Or wrist protectors and sunglasses. Lots of options.”

“And you said I could wear a one piece bathing suit as underwear? If I have to take off my shirt?”

“If you're comfortable in that, sure. A few girls I've played with I've done that. It's all the same to me as long as it's six less than the lower number. My hope is that even if you beat me I'll still get a good show.”

“And has that ever happened?”

“Several times.” Bailey's heart sank. That was not what Artemis had told her. “But, unfortunately, my friends insist that in just about every occasion it's been deliberate on the part of the loser.” Oh, nevermind, that was what Artemis had told her, wasn’t it. Bailey breathed a sigh of relief. The man continued talking. “At first I was insulted, but now I've gotten used to it and I don't mind. Especially not when they go on to lose and it saves me 10 bucks. Plus, I've sort of hooked up with some of them afterwards.”

“Oh, you’re gay?” Artemis had said that it was the men who deliberately lost those matches, to the point he’d lowered his bet to $10 a match. No wonder he didn't take losing his strip badminton games with women very seriously.

“Bi—or I think pan is the politically correct thing to say these days isn't it?”

OK so he was into women, then. “I dunno. Maybe?” she responded. Wait, no. Asher claimed he was into women. The saying Bailey had heard was that all bi women are straight chicks pretending—and all bi dudes are homos in denial: how true was that? She realized he had said something else that she hadn't heard. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

“Oh I said if you're interested, you don't need to decide whether to do a men’s or a women’s singles now. Just figure out what clothing you're gonna wear and how you're gonna count it. Remember that two piece underwear always counts separately and the first thing you have to take off is your shirt or shorts. Oh and only two layers: outerwear and underwear. Remember the deal is if I get a point on you you're taking off your shirt or shorts.”

“But if I wear a one piece and take off my shirt… ?”

“It's still counts as stripping, and that's still kind of hot.”

“I see.” Bailey decided to change the subject. “So if you are so bad at badminton why do you keep doing this?”

“Because I'm hoping to become good at it. There's a whole lot of stuff that I'm congenitally bad at. I've even got medical diagnoses and genetic mutations for some of it. But some of that stuff I want to become good at. Drawing, singing, badminton.”

“Oh, you draw?”

“I make the attempt. I am still pretty bad at it but I'm getting better.”

“Can I see?”

“I can text you my dropbox, where I scan stuff for critiques and friends, but I still kind of suck at it.”

“I'd still like to see,” said Bailey. A few moments later she heard a ping on her phone. She clicked the link, and “These are actually really good!” she exclaimed.

Asher laughed with seemingly good-natured humor. “A lot of people tell me that. You know who doesn't tell me that? Artists. Art is one of those things that you don't realize how bad you are at it until you just start reaching at good at it.”

“So are you taking classes then?”

“Nothing useful in my area. I can't draw people well and the best way to learn art is nude figure drawing—but the closest I come in my part of town is fingerpainting: art classes for kids. Although some of those fellows who threw their games have let me practice drawing them. Well a couple of them had. Most of them don't have the patience to sit still for that.”

Now Bailey was imagining Asher asking her to let him draw her naked, offering some amount of money for a model who would sit still. Would she let him … Maybe. Especially the money was good enough, or if he was hot.

“Oh. Well anyways, I think your art is pretty good. I think you could, like, make money on Etsy or something!”

“Well I appreciate the sentiment Bailey. It was nice chatting with you, but I need to go. I will text you my calendar if you want to sign yourself up, and you can always drop in if you see an open block.”

“Oh, uh … OK.”

Asher had already dropped off the call.

 

***

 

Bailey scheduled a three-match strip badminton set with Asher. There were two men on the court. One was dressed in a polo shirt and long pants, and he was almost exactly how Bailey had first imagined Asher. This might not be so bad after all. Perhaps he was a gentleman who lost to women deliberately. Looking closer she realized he very definitely gave off gay vibes. But it was the other man who started walking up to her.

This man was distinctly corpulent. It seemed less accurate to say that he walked than that he waddled. His shorts seemed almost to strain against his massive thighs. His face didn't look old, but his hairline was receding, and he had a visible admixture of white in his overgrown beard. “Bailey?” the fat man asked, extending his hand.

Bailey took his hand delicately, and nodded. “Well I'm Asher, and our ref here is Jeremy.” He gestured towards the preppy gay Adonis. At least Bailey had solved the mystery of why Asher was so bad at badminton: why he had never improved after months of practice the way he had with drawing. The man she was looking at would never be good at badminton until he lost at least nearly half of his body weight. Also, when she had imagined Asher in his late thirties or early forties, Bailey had pictured him as substantially better looking. Suddenly it seemed incredibly weird that this man perhaps two decades older than her was playing strip badminton with college kids.

“I'm sorry, she said but how old are you?”

“I'll be 31 the September,” he told her.

“You’re only 30!” Bailey exclaimed, before she could restrain herself. “I'm sorry. That was rude.”

Fat Asher smiled and chuckled and it seemed like a genuinely warm and friendly smile. “No really that's not the first time I've gotten that. People think I'm in my 40s or even 50s sometimes. But then I get the people who think I'm in my early 20s too, if you'd believe it.” Bailey definitely did not believe it. “Like I said I've got some fucked up genetics, And people often don't know what to make of me.” Bailey's skepticism must've shown on her face because he asked her. “Do you wanna see my drivers license?”

“I…”

Fat Asher was already fishing around in a backpack. He pulled out a wallet and handed it to Bailey. His birthday indeed indicated that he had been born only three decades years prior. She handed his wallet back to him.

“Really, I should get hair transplants. But I keep putting it off because if my hair is starting to march back now I'm not quite sure how far it wants to go, you know?”

Bailey realized that she found his candor and self deprecation disarming and even a little bit charming. And then, Asher asked Bailey some questions about herself, in which he seemed to take a sincere interest. He definitely wasn't boyfriend material but she could see being friends with him. In fact if she somehow found herself still single at 30 herself, nine years might not look so bad, he might even be marriage material. If he could lose the weight anyways, or she could get over it. But it was an abstract thought: hopefully he would find a partner of a more appropriate age and size long before then.

 

***

 

Across that first set and several that followed it—including one right after—Bailey accumulated nearly a thousand dollars and never last more than her shirt. In fact, the second time she took off her shirt to reveal the one piece bathing suit underneath, Bailey started feeling bad and wondered if she should go back to normal underwear.

She felt kind of bad about the money too, and the first time they had played she tried to talk him down to giving her only $50 or $75 instead of $150. It was basically the same game six times times, she’d told him.

But Asher insisted. “A bet’s a bet and if I could be in you I would've held you to your end of the bargain. Jeremy isn't just a referee you know, he's also a notary public.” Bailey realized that he was implicitly telling her that she had signed a legally binding contract. The indignation wrinkled a little bit. If she had somehow lost, Bailey would like to think that she would've kept her end of the bargain.

But what she really, she wondered? From her perspective, the bargain was essentially that Asher was so bad that she was at no risk of ever losing. Suddenly she found herself blurting out “I feel like after all this money I at least owe you a look at my boobs. Not that I'm offering, mind you,” she quickly amended, “that was a joke.”

Asher shrugged. “I'm not that into breasts anyways,” he said.

“Wait if you're not into breasts, why are you playing strip badminton with women at all? Especially when you pay women more?”

“I pay what the market will bear, to get me a good mix of partners. It's a lot easier to get men to play this game even for $10 than to get women for $25. And I didn't say I wasn't into women, just that I'm not into breasts.”

“But if you're not into breasts, what are you into?” Stupid question. Maybe he was a butt guy.

“Holes. Bodies. The power over them.” His voice seemed to shift, to take on an ominous, even threatening, quality. Bailey felt a bit of a chill. And then it occurred to her:

“And yet persistently losing at badminton seems like a bad way of achieving that.”

Asher shrugged. “The power is in the potential. I could win, and I’m betting mere money against my opponent’s public nudity.” Then, abruptly he seemed to change the subject. “Did you know that most day traders make money in the short term and lose everything in the long term?”

“Is that what you do?” Bailey asked. “Are you a day trader?”

Asher chuckled—or did he cackle?—Was there menace contained in the laugh? “Daytrading is picking up pennies in front of a steamroller. What I did was the opposite.”

“So what did you do, then?”

“I played the long game, steamrolling the idiots people picking up pennies. I made lots of little bets that everyone else that were incomprehensibly stupid, because individually, most of them were. I lost hundreds of dollars a day and netted hundreds of thousand a year. Not in daytrading, of course, I did not have the volume or Internet connection for that: other areas, where a few milliseconds here and there didn't matter.”

Bailey realized he was speaking in the past tense. “So you don't do that anymore?”

“I have ‘fuck you’ money, I'm set for life, as long as I don't consistently make the kinds of stupid financial choices that don’t have the chance to win big. So naturally, I decided to start a boutique, brick and mortar, consumer-facing retail business.” He smiled at Bailey expectantly in a way that suggested he had made a joke. Bailey had no idea what the joke might be, but she smiled back at him. “Y’know,” he said, “If you want we can up the stakes a bit. Hundred bucks a round.”

“A hundred dollars against what?” Bailey asked.

“Against: for the 24 hours after Jeremy certifies my victory, you will do whatever I want. Within reason of course.”

“Who defines ‘within reason?’” she asked. “The contract. No permanent damage and nothing that will leave you incapacitated for days later,” he says. “Penalties for violation, of course, specified according to standard actuarial tables.

“So sex stuff is on the table?”

“Sex stuff is the table. I feel like that's baseline implied in any ‘Do what I want for 24 hours’ agreement, don’t you? Anything else I do is built on top of the sex stuff.”

“24 hours of ‘you do whatever you want with me as long as you don't kill, cripple, or maim me,’ against $100?” That seems like a rather steep escalation, and one-sided.

“Oh it absolutely is.”

“How did you arrive at those numbers anyways? 24 hours of virtual slavery against 100 bucks?”

“Market rates. People have gotten extremely confident that I am as bad at badminton as I seem to be.”

“There's an alternative explanation?”

“Oh, certainly. I could well be the baminton equivalent of a card sharp. A racquet sharp?”

“And are you?”

“A racquet sharp? I certainly aspire to be.” ‘Aspire.’ As in he was hoping he would miraculously get good? Or get a really bad opponent? Bailey decided to ask for an introduction to the group who had introduced Artemis to Asher.

Chapter 2: Why Jayler loves losing

Summary:

Bailey talks to Jayler, a young gay bottom who lost the hundred dollar to 24 hour bet to Asher deliberately. He was disappointed at the results, but lost again.

Among this group of people was a young man named Jayler, who had actually lost the hundred-dollars-to-twenty-four-hours bet. Jayler had been extremely disappointed when he threw the second round and Asher just took him home naked, put a chastity cage on him, and made him do chores around the house.

“Sure, towards the end of that 24 hours he asked if I wanted to do sex stuff, but it was kind of underwhelming you know?” I didn't want to be asked. That's why I lost to him. 24 hours to do whatever he wants with me, and it’s mostly fucking chores? Even the fucking felt like a chore. Although he did promise me that if it's my fantasy was to service dozens of random strangers, he would set it all up for me next time.”

“Next time?”

“I'm losing to him again on Tuesday,” the boy said, “I will let you know how it goes.”

 

***

 

Bailey checked in again with Jayler on the following Thursday. It transpired that prior to the match, Asher had asked him about his sexual fantasies. Then he had taken Jayler on a leash to a club, where he serviced dozens of men and was subjected to a bunch of degrading acts. “Although, guy named 'Asher' has to be at least a little bit fruity right?”

That was not the reason that Bailey suspected Asher of batting for the other team, but she nodded nonetheless.

“So why the fuck didn't he let me blow him without a condom? Actually, come to think of it, did he let me blow him? He put a blindfold on first … and left the room for several minutes. I asked him why and he said it was some thing about the power of potential, whatever the fuck that means.”

That was ringing a bell for Bailey although she couldn't quite place it. Asher had told her some thing about power and potential before, hadn’t he? It was only after the conversation had turned to other topics that she finally remembered. “I think he told me some thing about he's not turned on by bodies but by power over them? Or the potential to have power over them? I don't quite remember?

Jayler nodded thoughtfully. “So he’s not queer-queer, then? Just a top?”

“I guess… No, I'm sorry I don't understand what you mean.”

“I mean, real tops are tops regardless of sex of the bottom.”

That explanation if anything made things feel less clear, but Bailey nodded nonetheless.

Jayler elaborated: “The truth is, most ‘straight’ men are just tops, even if they won't admit it. When you are sticking your dick in a hole, it doesn't matter that much who—or what—that hole is surrounded by.”

That had an uncomfortable ring of truth to Bailey, though she was not sure it was the whole truth.

 

***

 

Instead, at her next match with Asher, Bailey decided to ask about the experiences Jayler reported, and the whole power thing. “You said that sex was the basis of what you could make me do, but you didn't have sex with Jayler until he asked for it. And then when he did, you served his sexual fantasies.”

“Power is about being able to make people do what they don't want to do. Judicious exercise of power is about making people do what you don't want to do. I like jerking myself off well-enough, but I really don't like doing housework.”

“So if I lost to you, you would be making me do housework and not sexual stuff?”

“I would be making you do housework yes. I also might make you do sexual stuff. That's the whole point of the wager.”

“You might, but you didn’t with Jayler. Or you barely did. He said you only let him blow you once.”

Asher laughed. “That’s what he thinks.”

“He blew you more than once without him knowing?”

“No, he didn’t even blow me once. I told him I would. Then I blindfolded him and brought in some other horny bastard from the club we were at.”

“So will you do sexual stuff with Jayler eventually?”

Asher shrugged. “I like to think of myself as more of a sex dungeon master than a player character.”

“So if I lost to you, would you be fucking me or not?”

“I absolutely reserve the right to fuck you. Or to make you suck me off. Or even sodomize your ass without lubricant until it bleeds.”

“You will have the potential to fuck my body in any hole you chose, if I lose?”

“Oh absolutely. That's the whole fucking point.”

“And you have the potential to make me fuck the whole club just about, like Jayler did?”

“Well not in the first 24 hours. I keep a messy house when there’s no one to do it for me. But if you want to go 72 hours, or a week … Tell me: do you want me to find a group of guys to penetrate any or all orifices vicariously on my behalf?”

That offer was somehow tempting. Why the fuck was that offer tempting? “Obviously not!” she declared indignantly.

“OK well if you change your mind and decide to lose to me, it was a fantasy of Jayler’s and I think it would probably be way easier to arrange for a woman.”

“So are you a … cuck?” Bailey asked with some trepidation.

“I don't see it that way. On a very basic level with both me and cuckolds there is the appeal of having a sexual partner act out sexual fantasies with others in front of them. But that's where the resemblance ends. For a cuckold the appeal is about the illusion of disempowerment in a safe context. Cuckolds like to watch their long-term sexual partners do sexual stuff in front of them with a man or men he believes are superior to him in some way. I like being able to take control of the sexuality of another person and use it to transactionally. Of course prostitution is still illegal with humans, despite the prevalence of creature-based and robotic brothels. So I can't take anything from the men who fucked Jayler directly, but they owe me favors in the future. Anyways, it was Jayler's fantasy. I have a lot of fantasies around power and I'm quite flexible and creative, if you want me to fulfill them.”

“But you won't make me do sex stuff ... if I lose.”

“I didn't say that. I absolutely want a legally binding, witnessed and notarized agreement that puts that on the table—and the kitchen sink besides.”

“But you won't actually do that?”

“If you make me promise not to do it, sign that agreement, and lose … it almost feels like I’d have no choice but to break that promise. Otherwise I'm letting a handshake deal override a written contract—and that is surrendering power to someone else.”

 

***

 

For the next couple days, Bailey mulled the prospect over. Even if she somehow lost, if Asher made good on his dream of being a ‘racquet sharp,’ housework, even naked housework, didn't seem that bad. And while still didn’t want lose deliberately—not with the stakes up to $100, not with the prospect of stripping naked in front of witnesses—the gang rape offer actually sounded kind of hot. Asher had fulfilled Jayler's sexual fantasies, maybe he got off on that. He had, after all, called himself a ‘sex dungeon master.’

But was she sure that Asher wouldn’t use her sexually? The man was simultaneously disarmingly forthright and entirely inscrutable. But despite what Jayler said, Bailey was convinced that most men are mostly straight. Hadn’t he mentioned that he pays more for women to play strip badminton because there's a greater power in women's reluctance to strip casually. The same logic might apply to casual sex. The same logic did apply to casual sex: gay bottoms tend to be much more promiscuous than straight women. The question was, then: did the sex of the bottom make a difference to Asher?

Chapter 3: Bailey bets big

Summary:

After talking with a girl who lost a week to Asher—probably deliberately—Bailey considers Asher's raised stakes.

It was Hannah’s experience which finally made up Bailey’s mind. Jayler had called her with some juicy gossip: a woman named Hannah had just spent a week as Asher’s sex toy. She had wagered Asher a week against $300 a match, and she had lost. Rumors said she lost deliberately. Bailey met Hannah among Jayler and a group of Hannah's friends, who kept teasing her about that, and her reactions suggested to Bailey it was likely true.

Hannah confirmed that Asher made her stay naked for the whole week, and initially just made her do housework while he mostly ignored her. When Hannah tried making some subtle advances, Asher told her to be direct with what she wanted, he wasn’t not going to fulfill her romance novel fantasies based on hints. This led to a lengthy conversation in which Hannah was first to admit she didn't know what she wanted.

So he asked Hannah what kinds of romance novel she read, and when she admitted she didn't really read he asked her about the kinds of things she might want to read about. He asked her about things that would be horrible if they happened to her and based on her reaction he subsequently did some of them to her. “Although they weren't as horrible as all that,” Hannah insisted. It seemed pretty clear from the context that Asher did only the sexual things Hannah wanted—even if she herself was not certain that she wanted them.

On her way out, Bailey got Hannah into a private corner. “For real,” said Bailey, “I promise I won't tell anyone, but I need to know: did you loose deliberately?”

Hannah blushed, grimaced, and whispered: “…maybe”

“You don’t know? Or you don’t want to say?”

“I found myself thinking I liked the idea of losing and I got distracted. And then when I started taking stuff off, with the people watching, I really started liking the idea of losing, and I got really distracted.”

Bailey racked her brain, but, after her conversations with Hannah, she could not think of a good reason not to take Asher’s bet.

***

Now convinced that his threats of sexual assault and sadism were overblown, Bailey reached out Asher. His schedule had become inexplicably full over the last few weeks and she not only missed the money she had been making, she realized she missed the banter too. While she had come to realize he would never even be a proper friend—the way he thought it was just too alien to her—as an acquaintance, he was fun and exciting—in small doses and then the right contexts. And so she was disappointed when Asher told her the day and even week offer were off the table.

“My schedule is filling up,” he says, “So I’ve been clearing my time for more interesting wagers. I’m starting to win, as well. I've already won weeks off five people.”

“You don't think those people let you win?” she asked.

“I thought they were letting me win when it was just stripping at stake,” he said, “But what person in their right mind is going to just give themselves to me for a month?”

“A month!?” What if he really was getting better? Bailey had not played him after all in over two weeks. If worse came to worst, could she handle a month of naked housework? Could she handle a month of Asher? Like salt and pepper he was great in small doses and in the right contexts. But being 24 seven with him, naked, and forced to obey him? Bailey wasn't entirely sure she could handle him for a month as a normal roommate.

“Yeah, a month against $1150.”

$1000, over $1000 was good money. Easy money. “Per match?”

“Yeah although at that price I'm going match by match, not sets of three.”

“So how many sets are you willing to do, then?” she asked.

“I don't know. Until I get tired or bored—or until I win.”

Bailey breathed a sigh of relief. Asher did not seem very confident of winning after all, then. He remained an aspiring raquet sharp.

“How about three rounds to start?” she asked.

“I told you, I'm not doing sets anymore.”

“Not a set, three separate matches.”

“That’s a set. If you wanna take the back, let's do one match and see how we both feel after that.”

“Sure, fine. What time? You have a pretty full schedule.

“How about Friday at 10 AM? Bring your friends if you want, if they don't have classes. I’ll invite mine. They can meet, we can make a day of it.”

“A day of one badminton match?”

“I didn't say it’d be only one, just that we should start with one. Anyways you might be surprised what you can do with only one badminton match.”

“Uh, sure… I'll see you Friday at nine, then.”

 

***

 

Bailey brought several of her friends, or at least classmates. Asher asked if they would be witnesses.

“Witnesses to what?” Bailey asked.

“To the contract you're signing. It's pretty high stakes. A month where you do what I tell you to, where I can do anything I want to you that doesn't result in death, mutilation, or serious physical damage.” He seemed to stress the word physical for some reason.

“Did Hannah and Jayler have witnesses?” She asked. “When they lost for a week.”

“Well of course. They brought their friends as well.”

The agreement also had the standard clauses about what she declared for clothing. Bailey had worn normal underwear, today and she always did the men’s matches—nine items let her count each shoe and sock as a different item. She signed the agreement, her class friends witnessed it.

Bailey prepared to win her first $1150. She wondered what her total take might be at the end of the day. Asher has been coy, he wouldn't commit to a second match, but he had also said he might play until he won. Three matches, a set, was over three grand. That was easily a month’s living expenses. Of course her parents paid her expenses now, but Bailey budgeted herself. That was a lot of money in the bank. Her father would not shut up to her about dollar cost averaging and compounded interest if he learned of today’s haul.

Will the cheers and clamor of an audience, Bailey prepared to clean up.

 

***

 

Bailey did not clean up.

Chapter 4: Bailey loses her shirt ... for a start

Summary:

The match starts going sideways for Bailey. As she loses more of her clothing, she faces the terrifying prospect that Asher might actually win, that he might actually make her his sex toy—or more likely naked maid—for a month.

It had started well. She scored two points in a row. Asher scored a point, then she scored another. And then, Asher scored three points in a row. This wasn't the first time he had done that. It wasn't even the first time to put her a point ahead. But every previous time, it had been just her, Asher, and the referee Jeremy. Every previous time, she had worn her bathing suit under her clothing. Now she was in normal underwear—well, normal-ish.

Bailey had been so confident of winning that she was wearing granny panties and a sports bra. The panties covered more than a bathing suit but they were also aggressively underwear, patterned with a rose motif. Taking a deep breath, Bailey took off her shirt. There were cheers and jeers from the crowd while she was pulling the shirt over her head. When she got it off, she saw leers from some of her classmates, and Bailey became suddenly acutely aware of how little she knew these people. She wished she had not invited them.

Still, while embarrassing, Bailey was showing nothing she wouldn’t show at a beach. She had bought the one piece bathing suit specifically for her matches with Asher—beach Bailey preferred bikinis. The match was early and except for the audience—and the lack of bathing suit—this was nothing she hadn't experienced before.

Except… she failed to recover.

The very next point went to Asher.

But that was no big deal. Artemis had told her she sometimes fell two points behind. Bailey had on occasion fallen three behind. But because Bailey always did men’s singles and wore a one-piece bathing suit, she was able to remove her headband and sunglasses without hindrance. But she had already given up her sunglasses: it was an overcast day, and with her normal underwear they made ten items. Bailey stripped off her headband. It would still be fine if she could just score three points in a row.

Bailey scored one point. She breathed a sigh of relief. Asher had had a fluke run of four points in a row, but it was over now. She scored a second point, tying the score at 5-5. One more point and she would be safely back in the lead, back on track, and she could clean up like normal. But then the birdie bounced off her racket and hit her side of the net. Point to Asher, 6-5.

And now Bailey had a choice. She could either take off her shorts and expose her rose-patterned granny panties, or she could take off a shoe, and try to play off-balance. The shorts were the obvious answer, but that would throw her emotionally off-balance and especially with the leering classmates. And then Bailey realized she had a third option: she could take off her sports bra. It was such a radical idea that it had not occurred to her at first, and yet the moment she thought of it it made sense.

Going completely topless in front of this crowd of complete strangers and class acquaintances would absolutely be embarrassing, especially if pictures got around. But it would be only embarrassing. Letting her letting strangers and classmates she barely knew see her in her granny panties wouldn’t just be embarrassing, it would be humiliating. Whereas, going topless? Even if the observers took pictures, it would be simply a college girl making a college girl mistake. College girls took their tops off on dares or drunken escapades, or even just to find themselves all the time, didn't they?

And perhaps even more importantly, Bailey suspected that Asher could not be nearly as indifferent to breasts as he made out. The move would be unexpected and she hoped put him more off-balance than her. Bailey unhooked her bra and threw it onto the pile with her shirt and headband. Disregarding the crowd, she turns to focus on Asher, only Asher. Bailey scored a point, tying up the match again: 6-6.

Bailey was back in control of the situation. Two points in the lead was all she needed, she decided to be safe. She would win the match and perhaps Asher would even think he smelled blood in the water, think this was him getting better and not Bailey fucking up. After this match, she could probably take him easily, win match after match, until one of them tired out—that one being the fat man who was nearly a decade older.

The fat man who had just scored another point: 7-6.

Bailey breathe deeply and tried to remain calm. She would have to take off her shorts. The upside of being topless was that, hopefully, no one would be focusing on her rose-patterned granny panties. She took off her shorts quickly and returned to the game.

Another point to Asher. 8-6.

Fuck. Now he was safely two points ahead of her. But he had been there earlier, Bailey had tied him back up. He had been there many times before and she had always safely regained the lead. Asher was having an unusually good game, and perhaps he genuinely had improved in three weeks, but this still couldn’t be skill. However it did mean that Bailey needed to take something else off. Something else either meant one of her shoes or the granny panties. After the gambit with the her, it would be less unexpected and yet …

In for a penny, in for a pound. Bailey pulled off her panties and threw them on the pile too. She was essentially naked, except for her shoes and socks, and yet with the adrenaline in her veins she barely felt it. Bailey would retake the lead, win the match, and the time she played badminton naked and to an audience would be a fun, if slightly embarrassing, story. Certainly, no one would remember the rose-patterned granny panties after she'd stripped them off.

Her confidence restored, Bailey rallied. She tied the score and then pulled ahead. 9-8 to her. She scored another point: 10-8. Two points ahead, as had been her goal. Now she was truly on her way. 11, 12, 13 points, Asher’s tally stayed at eight. Then he scored a point, but at 13-9, she needed take nothing off. Another point, another, and another. 13-12, and Asher had had the longest run of points in all their time playing together. He scored another point: 13-13, tied.

Bailey felt panic creeping back in. She knew that panic was the last thing she needed. Asher’s six-point streak had been a lucky fluke, but if she let herself panic, she might give him the match. She paced, she drank water, Asher and the ref seemed willing to give her time to regain her composure. When the match resumed they had a long volley, Bailey couldn’t seem to get a point through. And then, Asher scored another point.

14-13 Asher, but Bailey was still in it. She took off both her shoes. It wasn't like they made a difference to her nudity and it would keep her on balance. Asher did not seem to object. After a moment of thought, she took her socks off too: it seemed better to go barefoot than to risk slipping. She was now completely naked but she was still gonna win this.

In his first volley back to her, Asher took the point. 15-13. He could call the game now if he wished and he would have won: her body would be his for a month. Before that terrifying thought could sink in, he had already told the ref he wished to continue to 17 points. Was Asher trying to let her win? Was he the dog who had caught the car and wasn't sure what to do?

But try as she might, Bailey failed to score another point. The match ended 17-13 to Asher. And now the reality began to sink in. She was completely naked and—based on the terms she had signed before witnesses—for the next month her naked body belonged to that affable but slightly frightening fat man who was now approaching her.

Bailey sat down on the court, and broke into tears.

Chapter 5: 12x or nothing

Summary:

As Bailey breaks down emotionally, Ashers friend Heron tries to mediate a rematch that will satisfy both of them.

By the time he arrived, Asher’s countenance was a mask of seemingly genuine concern. He had won the right to touch any part of her body when the ref called the match, and yet he only held Bailey’s shoulder as he asked her what the matter was.

“I don't know if I can do this,” she told him, eyes on the verge of tears.

“I mean you signed a contract agreeing you could.” Asher's voice was gentle, even sympathetic and yet his tone suggested she was conveying a completely alien concept. But then, back when she first tried to reject some of his money, he had always told her that a deal was a deal. He had always told her he would hold her to her side of the bargain if he ever won.

“I didn't expect to lose!”

“But you had to know it was a real possibility.”

“Not really. You've never come close to winning before!”

“Not against you maybe, but I told you I beat Hannah.”

“Hannah let you lose!”

Asher frowned at this and immediately Bailey suspected she’d made a mistake. “That's not what she told me.”

“She also insisted that she didn't want to be used sexually by several strange men, but you saw through that!”

“No, I talked it out with her and she eventually saw through that.” Then suddenly his face fell. Asher grabbed her arms and pinned them behind her back, cuffing her wrists together. Then he did the same with her elbows. Then, looking at his handiwork, he squatted down and grabbed her chin to pull her face to his. “She really told you that? Hannah let me win?”

Bailey sobbed, but also nodded.

“And you believe her?”

“I … yes?”

“So Hannah wanted to spend a week with me, wanted to spend a week as my property?”

“I think so.”

“And you know Jayler, I hear. Him too?”

“Yes.” That was one so blatantly obvious Bailey was incredulous that Asher did not see it.

“But you did not let me win?”

“No.”

“You didn't want to spend a month with me, you wanted $1150.”

“Obviously.” Wait, this surprised him?

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you lose to me? Why did you take off your bra before your shorts and your panties before your shoes and socks? Why did you take off your shoes and socks all at once the moment I scored a point on you?”

Was he right? Was there some part of Bailey that had wanted him to win? But no, that was absurd. Bailey liked the idea of either serving as his new housekeeper nor letting him organize a train on her body. Bailey didn't even like him that much.

“I don’t know!” Bailey sobbed.

“You and Hannah played very similarly, you know. She was also well in the lead and then just … gave up.”

“Does it matter if I did let you win? If I did and changed my mind would you change yours?” Bailey exclaimed. “I don’t want to be your sex slave, or your housekeeper, or whatever the fuck it is you wanted to do with me!”

Asher looked like he was slightly hurt and trying to hide a deeper wound. “But you did want $1150.”

“Yes.”

“And if you had won that first match, how many more times would you have played and taken my money if you won?”

This felt like dangerous territory that Bailey was not prepared to handle.

“I dunno.”

“As long as I let you, until I got tired.”

“Yeah.” Bailey did not have the energy to lie or even dissemble.

“So you were only playing for my money.”

“Well no. I also liked talking to you,” she admitted. “You're an interesting guy and you always seemed so nice. But a nice guy would—”

Asher cut her off. “I've always told you I'm ruthless, didn’t you believe me?”

The question felt like a trap. Either she told him she hadn't believed him—which was the truth—or she told him she believed he was ruthless, which meant she knew what he was getting into.

“I don’t want… I want…”

“Are you asking me for a rematch?”

Bailey felt the stirrings of hope at this question. “Would you…?”

“Based on what you are telling me, either my victory was a fluke and you didn't want me to win, or you let me win and have now changed your mind. In either case a rematch means that I am likely forfeiting a prize I've just won. Which is you for a month,” he added unnecessarily. He squeezed her left armpit just above her breast as a form of emphasis. “You know what they say about birds—" he now moved his hand down to brush the very top of her pubic hair, "about birds and bushe don’t you? Oh, hey … speaking of birds!”

A woman with a tricolor pixie cut in magenta, purple, and electric blue was wandering over. “Hey Ash, great game!”

“Hey Heron,” said Asher. “This is my friend Heron. Although her real name’s ‘Julia.’ But don't call her that if you don't want her to stab you.” Bailey realized he was talking to her.

“Pleased to meet you, Bailey,” said Heron. “I'd shake your hand, but you seem to be a little bit tied up at the moment.” She smiled at her own joke.

Bailey burst into sobs as the tears began to run down her cheeks.

“Oh what's the matter with her?” Bailey realized that Heron was asking Asher.

“She didn't think I would win, says she didn't let me win either, and now wants a rematch.”

“In fairness, it was a very close game,” said Heron.

“Which is all the more reason not to do a rematch. Bird in the hand and all that. And I believe her, it's the first time I've ever gotten a girl—or probably a boy for that matter—who didn't let me win. First time I've successfully gotten a girl who didn't let me win, at least if I believe her,” he reiterated, in case he hadn't be clear the first time.

“And that means you want to fuck her?” Heron asked.

“Here and now, if I'm being honest,” said Asher. “I'm still not sure I believe her about not letting me win, but it's clear that either way she was not into getting fucked. So now she gets a month of it.”

As Bailey processed the implications of what the fat man was saying, her fear mingled with disgust. “You said you wouldn't!” she tried to choke out, although it seemed like neither Asher nor Heron heard her.

And as she said it, or tried to, she realized that he had never actually made the claim that he would not fuck her if she didn't want him to and she lost. He had only very artfully implied it. And in fact, he had given her open hints many times about his sexuality revolving around dominance. She was torn between blaming him and blaming herself as she burst into another round of tears, her sobs this time almost noiseless.

As Asher took out a tissue to dry her tears in a seemingly absentminded fashion, Bailey realized that fucking her because she had made it clear she was repulsed by the idea was not simply dominance but sadism. Not only had Asher not claimed to be a sadist, but in fact quite the opposite. He had presented himself as ruthlessly pragmatic. So he had deceived her. She felt a surge of anger and hatred directed towards this otherwise pitiful and pathetic man. This otherwise pitiful and pathetic man who had her in his power for the next month.

“She seems really upset about this,” said Heron.

Asher shrugged. “It's only a month and a good life lesson. I would argue it's cheap at that price. I've had life lessons cost me tens of thousands of dollars, in one case it even cost me the better part of my then-yearly salary.”

Heron affected concern. “But you still had control over your own body in that time. It was income that you had earned though voluntary work.”

“And she earned a month as my plaything through a voluntary bet.”

“OK but, I don't know that you know what it's like—as a woman—to face the prospect of suddenly having to spend a month naked serving a man you find unattractive, your body exposed to anyone he wants to expose you to, doing anything he wants you to—especially sexual.”

“I would contend that I do know, and that's why it's hot,” said Asher.

“Fair cop,” said Heron. “But the thing is like, a month or a year, it's almost as bad. Hell, the experience will stay with her a lifetime.”

“If she bet her life versus her freedom right now…” Asher trailed off, then resumed. “I do like the idea of making her my permanent property, properly speakin. I mean that's ... what? – twenty good years really? But it's also complete freedom for me in what I do with her. I could make babies with her.

“A year’s enough for you to make a baby,” said Heron. “You could even write into the contract that if you get her pregnant, you have her extra until she carries the baby till term. But you would still leave her with the rest of her life.”

“Which you've said would be irrevocably ruined by a month with me.”

“Not ruined, just ... tainted a bit.”

Bailey wanted to interrupt, to protest that they were talking about her body and her life, but instead she found herself listening speechless.

“You're asking me to give up a bird in the hand in exchange for maybe one baby with her—well, one pregnancy: if I put her on babymaker meds, could be triplets,” Asher protested. “Although…” Suddenly Asher turned back to Bailey to look her directly in the eyes.

“When we first played, you offered to return a part of my money. Now that I think about it, if you'd offered to return all of it, if you'd insisted, I feel like I would owe you a turnabout. But of course, if you would've done that, you wouldn't have played future games for stakes at all. I remember you asked beforehand how many games I would play at $1150 a game if I lost. You came ready to take me for thousands if I'd let you. I told you I'm on a fixed income these days, haven’t I?”

“I'm sorry! Bailey protested, “but you seemed to treat the money so casually! I didn't think it was a big deal to you.”

“I did tell you this was my indulgence. And I did tell you I played for keeps.”

“You also said you’ve been trying for bigger,” Heron objected. “For her, a year and month, even with a pregnancy there’s not much difference, compared to not being yours at all. For you there is, especially if you get a pregnancy clause.” Heron turned to Bailey. “Pregnancy clause just says that you will live under observation for a month after the contract is over—or until you get your first period—to see if he knocked you up. If you're pregnant, or if you were obviously pregnant at the end of the term, you will stay under observation until you give birth, and the baby is his.”

Bailey felt her skin crawl at the idea of carrying the child of this horrifying fat man—a man she thought she’d known but who now seemed very alien. Perhaps it would be better to just suffer out the month. She shook her head. “No.”

Heron turned to Asher: “Could I talk to her alone for a moment?”

Asher shrugged and wandered off.

Heron turned to Bailey. “Have you read your contract about what happens to you if he maims, mutilates or kills you?”

“He’s not allowed to.” Then Bailey picked up on the implication. “He wouldn’t!?”

“I don’t know. Asher is a sadist, but he's always worked with masochists: people who like getting hurt. I hope not, but I honestly don't know what he'll do with you. Did you read the contract about what happens if he cuts off your arms, for instance?”

“He goes to jail?”

“He pays a fine according to standard actuarial tables without any sort of penalty. It’s like that for everything, up to death.”

“That’s monstrous!” exclaimed Bailey.

Heron shrugged. “Maybe, I try not to judge. But I can tell you now that he is very rich and very upset. But I don't believe he would hurt a woman he believed to be the future mother of his child—well, not that badly anyways.” Heron’s gray eyes bored into Bailey’s hazel ones, and Bailey found she believed her. “Bet him your freedom for a year with a pregnancy clause. I think he's willing to do that. Either you go free or he's so busy trying to knock you up he's not going to try to seriously hurt you.”

“How can you be friends with someone like this?” Bailey asked. “Someone you believe might mutilate or kill me because I took his money in a game that he was happy to play?”

Heron frowned and stiffened, and Bailey realized something she said had crossed the line. “You’re oversimplifying to the point of mendacity. As for how I can be friends with someone like that? I look for the good in people, not the absence of the bad. And Asher has a lot of good in him. I think you can see that too.”

Bailey no longer could. The jovial fat man she thought she knew was some kind of monster. Nonetheless, she nodded.

“So you'll do it then? Bet your freedom against a year and a pregnancy clause?”

“It seems like it’s my best option doesn’t it?”

“That I don’t know. If you don't take it, if you let him keep the month he already has, he could well cool off treat you like that girl and those boys who lost deliberately. In fact I think he probably will. I’m 99% sure of that. No, 95%. Call it 97%. I thought you should understand the risk. 3%, 10%, maybe 5%. Whatever it is it's a small risk, but it's there. I thought you should know and the choice is completely yours.”

A small risk, but Heron seemed uncertain how small. The odds that Asher would beat Bailey in a badminton match had also seemed small, and yet here she was. Moreover—with Bailey naked and emotionally exhausted—the odds that he would win a rematch were higher than for the original match, but Bailey still thought she could win. As Asher returned, Bailey knew that she would be making the new bet.

Chapter 6: Asher raises the stakes

Summary:

Bailey tells Asher she's excepted the new wager, but Asher up the stakes, and Heron needs to call in a favor to keep him from demanding Bailey bet her life and personhood.

CW: Heavy discussion of potential genital mutilation. In fact, I'm on the fence as to whether the discussion is enough to merit a 'graphic depictions of violence' AW for the whole story. (It's not really 'graphic,' but it pertains to a very sensitive area.) If you want to skip this chapter, the TL;DR will be in the notes for the next one.

Getting back on her feet with her hands bound tightly behind her back was hard, was awkward, but Bailey managed in time to look Asher in the eyes. Naked, partially restrained, and technically legally his—not quite property, but something very close—Bailey sought to project a confidence she absolutely did not feel.

“Fine,” she said. “I will bet you a year against my freedom. But I also want $12,000 if I win.” The first bit after all had been over $1000. Bailey wasn't quite sure how to multiply 1150 by twelve, not in her head, but twelve times a grand was easy enough.

Asher laughed in her face. Not an evil laugh, not a malicious one, but a dismissive one. “Who said I’m even willing to bet you the month I have against a year I don’t?”

“But you… Heron said…” Bailey stammered.

“Heron is free to say what she wants. She’s my friend, not my agent or representative.”

“Asher…” Heron started.

“Heron,” Asher acknowledged curtly.

“We just talked about this and you seemed to be on board.”

Asher shrugged. “And then you gave me time to think about it. Perhaps Bailey is right, perhaps this was a fluke. Perhaps even naked, even after this experience, she’ll wipe the floor with me.”

“That's the nature of a bet, isn't it?” Heron asked. “If it was a sure thing, it wouldn't be a bet. It would be Bailey here agreeing to turn a month into a year and give you a pregnancy clause.”

Bailey shuddered again. “I didn’t agree to a—” The look Heron gave her stopped her cold.

Heron turned back to Asher. It looks like she was going to say some thing else, but now he gave her a no chance to speak. “If I’m wagering my month, I want ownership. Absolute, unencumbered, and irrevocable ownership if I win. I want to be able to take her out in public naked without running afoul of public indecency laws.”

“You can do that with a year. If you just act like she's fully a legal animal, and if she doesn’t talk, nobody will know otherwise.”

“I can do that with a month, but there's always a small risk. I've spent my life betting on the improbable: I don’t like risks like that. And it’s even worse for the pregnancy. Even with a progeny clause, I might get nothing.”

“You might get nothing even if you fully own her. You don't even know she's fertile.”

Bailey found herself blushing at this discussion of her reproductive systems potential in front of her naked body.

”True.”

“You are the odds guy,” said Herron, and in practice you have a year and a month to get her pregnant. What are the odds you will?”

“No, I would have a year to get her pregnant, and another month to confirm it. And the odds that matter aren't pregnancy but rather live childbirth. I don't know the numbers off the top of my head, but I do know that if she's looking at a return to normal human life afterwards it will make her year with me more stressful: less chance of conception, more chance of miscarriage. She is less likely to bear me progeny in a year with me than the first year of the rest of her life with me.”

“So what if you get those numbers and make the deal the equivalent of a year with you if she were your property? What do they call that again?”

"CFA year," said Asher, in a tone that suggested he was considering Heron's new proposal.

What!? Bailey opened her mouth to put her foot down. “No. Absolutely not. A year is bad enough, the risk of pregnancy is worse, having to bear his child and then give my child up to him if I get pregnant in a year is … I'm still not sure I can accept that. But I will not agree to a contract based around maximizing Asher’s chances of getting me pregnant. If that's what you need, keep the fucking month. Cut off my fucking arms if you want, but I'm not agreeing to over a year with a pregnancy clause!”

Heron looked at Bailey in disappointment, and then looked to Asher. “OK, so that's out I guess.”

Asher looked at Bailey and then at Heron. “Cut off her arms? Did you tell her I was going to cut off her arms if she didn't bet me a year and a pregnancy clause?” He sounded so incredulous, even indignant, at the idea that Bailey felt a wave of relief wash over her.

“I told her you could, and that you would only be required to financially compensate her according to actuarial tables.”

“OK yeah that's true. But I'm a lot more likely to cut out her clitoris than to cut off her arms.”

Bailey felt like she’d been hit by an electric shock. Cut off her what!? Heron looked shocked as well. Bailey felt a moment of relief that she hadn't misheard him and wasn't the insane one. And then it clicked with her that Asher was proposing doing something that had not even crossed Heron’s mind.

“Actually, now that I think about it,” Asher continued, “that seems like a great idea. A calling card to remember me by, and the lessons I’ve tried to teach her. Bend over and spread your legs,” he told Bailey.

Bailey complied as best she could, cold fear gnawing With her hands still tied behind her back, she could not bend too deep and still stabilize herself. She felt his hands now touching her as he bent her further down, tipped her onto her head to make a tripod. It was an awkward, painful posture, which still required his hand pressing down to stabilize her. And then his other hand went into her private and yet fully exposed areas. Asher pinched her clitoris hard, and pulled it out. She could sense Heron coming around to look.

“Most people think this is all there is to the clitoris. This is the part that a lot of traditional societies chop off. I could probably do it right when we get home and still have the use of her cunt for the month. But there's actually a lot more too the clitoris: it actually goes much deeper. Bailey felt his fingers now pinching one side of her vulva. “Most of the clitoris is buried under the labia majora, like an iceberg. So-called vaginal orgasms simply come from the deep clitoris. Cut that out and she will never enjoy sex again. I would like to say it will also mean she never forgets the lessons I've tried to teach her about probability, but that might be overly optimistic.”

This was insane. The man she thought she’d known was a monster, a fucking psychopath. He was balancing her on her head and talking about cutting out parts of her girl bits to teach her some kind of math lesson. Bailey wished she could see Heron’s reaction. Would this be enough for that gentle woman to stop being friends with this monster?

“I can probably find a vet to excise it fully, the day before her time is up,” Asher continued. “I have a month for her to heal before any damages are assessed on that account. And do you know the funny thing about the clitoris in actuarial tables?”

“What’s that?” asked Heron. Bailey strained to detect any trace of the horror she felt at this discussion, and yet if she detected anything, it was genuine curiosity.”

“It's worth almost nothing. It’s based on the damage caused by traditional female genital cutting, which is practiced in developed countries almost exclusively among poor immigrants. In the rare event of lawsuits, the offender pays thousands or even hundreds, not the hundreds of thousands people get for losing both arms. And you know what’s even better?”

“What’s that?” Heron still sounded fascinated rather than appalled at this conversation.

“Traditional cultures don’t do a deep excision. So the actuarial tables have no data for that. And what do actuaries do with things they can't put a price on? Things like the value of female sexual satisfaction.”

“They confuse invaluable with worthless, don’t they?”

“Precisely. It would probably cost me as about much for a deep excision as for just the tip.” There was a horrifying satisfaction in the man's voice.

Through all this, Bailey said nothing, not wanting to encourage him

“So you're planning on cutting out her clitoris, just before you let her go?”

“Now that I thought of it, it’s such a bargain that it seems almost criminal not to.” This man wanted to mutilate Bailey's lady parts, ensure that she could never enjoy sex again, simply because it would cost him way less than it should?

“So it wasn’t your plan?” There was audible relief in Heron’s voice, and that reassured Bailey. Even if she had kept an even keel, she was a human and a woman after all.

“Plan? My plan was to fuck her in all her holes—since she seems to hate that idea—and make her clean my house. But the moment she brought up chopping off her arms, the moment I realized how financially stupid that was. And you know how I am when I start thinking finances.”

“You start looking for a bargain.”

So Bailey’s outburst about her arms had given him the idea of chopping up her lady bits? And Heron had given Bailey the idea. Did she realize this was partially her fault? Did she feel bad about it? That small amount of sympathy Asher's friend had shown, her willingness to engage on Bailey's behalf gave her a bit of hope and courage. Maybe Asher wasn’t truly evil, was it possible that he was simply extremely autistic about value? His hand now rested only lightly on her and she managed to swing herself up and wheel around to face him.

“Your bargain is cutting off part of my pussy?” she demanded of him. “In violation of our agreement you won’t mutilate me.”

“Your pussy is that dick-shaped hole between you legs. My bargain is cutting out the erectile tissue that surrounds it. And our agreement is that I will pay you according to actuarial tables for any mutilation I engage in.”

Bailey seized on that. “You said yourself it's not in the actuarial tables!”

Something about his face—she couldn’t quite place the expression—immediately told her something about what she had said was a mistake. “The clitoris is. If you want to claim—and it would be perfectly reasonable—That those numbers are based on superficial removal of this little bit here—” He reached between her legs and pinch and pull her clitoris again. She tried to slam them shut but it was no use. “—that would be entirely reasonable, and I’m happy to take it to arbitration. I just happen to know that arbitration won't assign it much additional value.”

“Not much additional value for the loss of ability to feel sexual pleasure.”

“How much monetary value do you think society places on women’s sexual pleasure?” With a sinking feeling, Bailey realized he was right. And so she tried her best to appeal to his better nature:

“Even if society doesn't, does it mean nothing to you that it means a lot to me?”

“Of course not! That’s why it’s such a bargain.”

“Value!? Is that all you care about?” she demanded. “What about your word? You told me you would not mutilate or maim me! You didn’t mutilate or maim Hannah or Jayler!”

“Is value all I care about? No. I like power too. I like having fun. But in value terms, Hannah and Jayler are catch-and-release … and catch again. They keep making stupid bets and I keep winning: as long as I can keep them betting I can always get them again … mind you, I thought it was my own skill and not them letting me win. But you've made it clear that the moment my time with you is up, you are done with me, and so I want to get the most value, the most fun I can, out of our limited time. Of course it would be different if you bet me your life and your personhood.”

“Asher…” Heron intervened again. “If I asked you to bet her a year and a pregnancy clause as a favor—asked you to put a defined value on her deep clitoris, and a high one if you win—as a favor, would you do it?”

Asher seemed to consider. “CFA year-equivalent, based on probability of childbirth, like you suggested?” He was negotiating with Heron, not Bailey. “I still don't like my odds,” he said. “If she’s right that it was a fluke, I’m just … giving it all up.”

“But you're not,” said Heron. “You’re getting better, and she is naked and likely completely emotionally exhausted. You have a real shot.”

Asher considered. “But you still think she would probably win a rematch.”

Heron hesitated. “Yeah… probably?” Asher looked like he was deciding to shut the whole thing definitively down when Heron sweetened the deal for him. “What about best two out of three? Then she needs to win both matches to go free, you only need to win one to get her for a pregnancy year-equivalent.”

Bailey watched Asher’s face in terror. The deal seemed to keep getting worse for her, and he was still undecided.

“It’s a win-win,” said Heron. “If you want to make babies with her, now you have a good shot of it. She definitely wants to keep her clitoris. If we set the cost at … a quarter million?” she ventured.

“Ten grand,” Asher countered. “Clitoral tip is at best a grand, so that's pretty generous.”

“Would ten grand stop you from cutting out her clitoris?”

“I probably won't anyways if she's giving me kids,” he said.

“But if—despite your best efforts, despite the extra time, she doesn't bear you a child an she isn’t pregnant at the end of it—would ten grand stop you from cutting out her clitoris?”

“Not even a speedbump.”

“And a quarter million?”

“Probably not worth it,” he conceded. Then he countered. “Hundred grand is the think-twice price.”

“Two hundred,” Heron countered. They were putting a price on Bailey’s clitoris without her involvement, and it was all so fucking surreal she felt nothing. After a couple of intermediate steps they settled on $112,358. “The Fibonacci sequence,” said Heron approvingly.

Heron and Asher shook hands and then Asher turned to Bailey.

“OK so the deal, and you can take it or leave it, is this: Best two out of three. If you win, you go free.” He mentioned nothing about the $12,000 Bailey had asked for even though he had admitted that amount of money was almost pocket change to him. But now that possibilities seem less important than mitigating the dangers to her clitoris.

Asher continued: “If I win, I don't see myself trying to cut out your clit as long as there’s a real possibility of you bearing my children. But I have agreed that in the event I do decide to cut it out, I will pay you $112,358 for the privilege after you go free. In exchange, your precise contract length will be determined based on the live birth rates of women in short-term arrangements like this and women in stressful situations. It will last the estimated equivalent of time it will take you to have an equal chance of you bearing me a child as if I fully owned you. I don’t know the exact numbers …

“It’s probably in the year and a half to three year ballpark,” Heron volunteered. The she added. “I’m sorry, but it’s still under five years—you’ll still have time to make a life for yourself after.”

Asher nodded. “Anyways that's the exact deal. You can take it or leave it.”

“But if I leave it, you'll cut up my pussy.”

Asher did not mansplain female anatomical terminology to her this time, he just nodded. “Almost certainly.”

Bailey took a deep breath. If she took the bet, the odds were that she would lose at least one match. She would be his sex slave for up to three years while he tried to knock her up. If she had children, he would take them from her. But she might be able to find a way to avoid that, somehow. Maybe she even was infertile. And if he was still childless by the end of it, either she would keep her clitoris or Bailey would at least get a life-changing amount of money for it. She nodded.

“OK, then,” said Asher. “I’ll go draw up the new contract.”

 

***

 

As Asher walked off to go speak with the notary, Heron uncuffed Bailey’s arms. Bailey stretched and rubbed them, before finally beginning to take in her situation. She was completely naked, essentially gambling a month of her life the integrity of her lady-bits against years of sexual service with the goal of making her bear and give up a child. It was … an unappealing bet. But she was starting to feel better, the match was potentially winnable.

And then a flash caught her attention. The crowd had grown. There was what looked to be a kid from the student newspaper with one of those old-timey cameras, and he had just photographed her naked. Wait was he from the student newspaper? Would the student newspaper even be able to run that photo? Maybe censored, she thought. And then looking at crowd, her heart fell through the floor. Among the spectators was her favorite teacher, Professor Jackson.

Chapter 7: Bailey begs for a blowjob

Summary:

Bailey hopes that the arrival of her law professor will save her. Indeed, his arrival inspires her to try to get arrested for public indecency in the hopes that she can fight her contract in the courts. Instead, it gives Asher the idea to fuck her in front of a crowd. Her best hope is to talk him down to letting her give him a blowjob.

Notes:

Summary of previous chapter for anyone skipping the based on my CW:

Bailey is willing to bet a year, but still doesn't like the idea of Asher forcing her to bear a child of his she'll never see after she's free of him. However Asher makes it worse by trying to still get her to wager her 'life'—the chance of becoming irrevocably his possession—against her freedom. His new excuse is that studies show 'creatures'—former persons irrevocably deprived of personhood—are more likely to get pregnant and less likely to miscarry than women in temporary conditions of the sort Bailey is facing.

Asher accepts a compromise that will modify her term such that she has the equivalent chance of giving Asher at least one life birth as a creature of equivalent age and health over the course of a year. Bailey soundly rejects this compromise, but then Asher gets the idea of threatening genital mutilation—and the permanent loss of Bailey's sexual pleasure—if she does not accept the new bet.

Dr. Jackson was had ‘it’—that rare combination of knowledgeable and accessible, straightforward yet whimsical, down-to-earth yet above it all—which turned some college professors into campus celebrities. He dressed in wool and tweed like professors in movies, explained even the most difficult course material with remarkable clarity, and in his office hours he always gave the impression that he related to the kids these days, though they be nearly two decades younger.

Most of his students aspired to be like him, many had made the switch to pre-law because of him, and at least half his female students wanted to fuck him. No, not just fuck him: In any game of ‘fuck, marry kill’ involving professor Jackson he was the obvious choice for ‘marry.’ Bailey was unquestionably among the girls with such fantasies: she had often imagined herself naked in front of him, but certainly not like this. The fact that he was there, witnessing her humiliation made her want to drop through the ground and vanish into the Earth.

And then with the flash it occurred to Bailey he might be her salvation, here as a knight in shining armor. Dr. Jackson taught legal classes at the undergraduate level and his most popular course—offered every fall semester—was called “Know Your Rights: Citizens, College Students, and the Law.” Perhaps if she could just explain the situation to him, he would find some ‘out’ that Bailey the college junior was not aware of.

Bailey ran to the fence where Dr. Jackson stood. “Dr. Jackson!” she nearly shouted when he arrived, “please, you’ve gotta help me!” Tears streamed down her faces, while his face seemed perplexed and perhaps slight amused. The crowd parted to let him approach the fence.

“Bailey LeFarge,” he said, his voice sounding almost mirthful, “whatever are you doing?”

In a rush of words and tears, Bailey told Dr. Jackson everything or at least tried to. Asher and Heron came over but did not interrupt the conversation until she indicated she had finished, by adding weakly: “please, can you help me?”

Dr. Jackson looked her over silently for a minute. Did his eyes linger just a little too long at her chest and crotch? Or was it her fears? Or her fantasies. “So let me make sure I understand?” he began.

Bailey realized he was waiting to be sure she was really finished speaking, and nodded enthusiastically, wondering whether Asher might grab her and pull her away, fearing that he might.

“You have just lost a contractual bet that says that for the next month, a very rich man can do whatever he wants to your body, but if he mutilates it or disable to you he has to reimburse you according to standard actuarial tables? You must be the rich man?”

Bailey realized he was addressing Asher, who responded: “I wouldn't describe myself as ‘very rich’—more like ‘comfortable.’” Bailey was making her best efforts not to turn to look at him, but from the corner of her eye, saw that he was smiling amiably. He waved at Dr. Jackson. “Hi, I am Asher.”

Dr. Jackson's face was serious and professional as he nodded back. “Carter Jackson, law professor, nice to meet you Asher. Is it OK if I take a few minutes to discuss this with my student?”

Asher smiled. “Sure. Hey, if you wanna come around to the gate, I’ll let you onto the court.” Dr. Jackson nodded an acknowledgment and began to move towards the gate. As her best hope of salvation moved away from her, Bailey moved to follow him to the gate. Suddenly she felt a hand on her throat almost choking her. Asher had reached around to grab her throat. “You stay here,” he hissed, the professor will be with us in a minute.”

Asher moved to the court gate but Heron moved to angle herself to the side of and slightly in front of Bailey, positioning herself in a way that made it clear she would try to stop Bailey if she made a run for the gate. It wasn't an option she had even considered until that moment. Where could she go completely naked? And whatever she did Asher could come after her in court. But then she remembered one piece of advice Dr. Jackson gave his students: if you could make your opponent fight it out in court it would drag out the proceedings and their resources.

Asher clearly had deep pockets, but also a volatile temperament. Bailey's parents had money too, and friends who had more. As embarrassing as the situation was, if she could make Asher come after her in court, her social network would back her until Asher got bored and gave up or accepted monetary damages. Bailey had not considered the option until Asher and his friend moved to block it and yet now she found herself wondering if she could find a way to make a run for it—even if it meant running without clothes.

Asher had let Dr. Jackson through the gate, and they were coming back now. But they stopped at Jeremy. The referee and notary pulled up the tablet and showed it to Dr. Jackson. He handed it back, and then looked at his phone. The wait almost seemed like it was killing Bailey. He was probably looking over her contract for loopholes, which could take awhile. Bailey looked around at the crowd pressed against the fence. There had to be dozens of people there, mostly strangers. Would any of them call the cops on her for public indecency? That could be her way out. Better the cops take her than Asher, if she wanted to fight it out in court.

Bailey looked towards Heron, hoping perhaps for sympathy, Heron now seemed to now resembled an ambush predator: relaxed, but watching Bailey alertly, waiting for her to set a foot wrong. “Can I have something to drink?” she asked Heron.

The woman with the tricolor hair shrugged. “You'll have to ask Asher when he gets back.”

 

***

 

The time dragged on, the crowd chattering about Bailey, but not talking to her, except to shout jeers. It had grown now to nearly 100 people. Cops, she prayed. Please, someone call the cops on me, I’m engaging in public indecency. But was she really? She seemed now to vaguely recall that someone had asked Dr. Jackson about that, and he had explained that in the state of Oregon, among others, mere nudity was not enough. It had to be lewd and lascivious conduct. ‘Lewd and lascivious’? Like … public masturbation?

Bailey stepped back from the fence slightly. Heron moved to accommodate but also to trail her. Bailey sat down on the court and spread her legs, then leaned back and began fingering her pussy. It wasn't actually hot, Bailey was not going to get off herself, but it would certainly be lewd and lascivious. She began to moan like the girls in porn. She even said the quiet part out loud. “Oh no!” she cried in her best attempt at babygirl porn voice “I'm being lewd and lascivious in public, I do hope nobody calls the cops on me. That would be just awful.” She brought her fake masturbation session to a crescendo in which.

The student with the big camera snapped a picture and Bailey realized there were several people taking pictures with her phone. She might never live this down she knew, but if she could get out of here and fight Asher to an acceptable settlement in court, that was far better than either of the alternatives. She tried to keep it up as long as she could—faking multiple sequential orgasms—but she begin tapering off. She stopped completely when she saw Asher and Dr. Jackson walking back over. Dr. Jackson’s face was a mask of crushingly fatherly disappointment.

“Bailey, what ever are you doing?” he asked her gently but with clear sorrow in his voice.

“I'm being lewd and lascivious in public,” she admitted. “Why hasn't anyone called the cops on me?”

“I'm very sure someone has,” her professor said.

“Well then why haven't they shown up to arrest me for lewd and lascivious conduct?”

“Because, young lady, this is a private club. They host swingers events here all the time where people go about having public sex. The police know that and are unlikely to respond to a call of this nature.” The disappointment in Dr. Jackson's voice made Bailey feel like he was her father she had failed her entire family.

Asher chuckled in a way that might have sounded warm if it hadn’t sounded menacing. “So, how well you you know this young lady, Professor Jackson?” The emphasis he placed on ‘lady’ and the chuckle he made after saying it suggested he considered her anything but. Somehow Bailey found it more humiliating than if he had called her a ‘slut’ or a ‘whore’ outright.

“She's a student in my class.”

“A good student?”

“About average I would say. She tries to be diligent though.”

“Hopefully she’s as diligent at giving head.”

“I mean I've heard rumors…”

Bailey blushed in horror. First to hear her professor say that. Then to realize that rumors about that one time had reacher her professor. “They're not true!” she protested.

“So you're saying you're bad at oral?” Asher asked.

“I only gave a boy oral that one time!”

“Well you'll be doing a lot more for the next month.” He turned back to her professor, the man Bailey still hoped might save her. “Dr. Jackson is it? Do you know what Eiffel Towering is?”

“I am familiar with the term and concept.”

Even as Bailey was trying to put together what was happening, Asher made things suddenly horrifyingly clear: “Have you ever wanted to test those rumors?”

And now, there was a moment of horrifying silence. Bailey had dreamed of sleeping with Dr. Jackson of course, but she had never fantasized about blowing him, not in public, and wasn’t an Eiffel Tower …

Then Professor Jackson spoke. “If you are asking what I think you’re asking…” And suddenly Bailey found herself wondering whether it might not be worse for Dr. Jackson to look at her naked body and decide he wanted no part of it. “I'm afraid that it would be against university policy to engage in sexual activity with any of my students.”

Bailey sighed in relief, exhaling so deeply she wondered if anyone else had noticed. He had ruled out exploiting her without rejecting her in a public fashion. And she found herself wondering if the crush she stared with half her female classmates had turned into full-on infatuation.

“For now.”

“For now, yes.”

“But if she wasn't your student,” would you fuck her?

Bailey's entire body flushed with warmth and she worried she must have turned practically crimson.

“That is an entirely inappropriate question,” said Dr. Jackson stiffly.

“Because she's your student?”

“Because she’s my student.”

“Well,” said Asher, “I guess it'll just be me.” He turned to Bailey. “On your feet.”

As slowly as she thought she could get away with, Bailey complied.

“Now spread your legs, bend over, and grab your ankles.”

Suddenly, Bailey had a premonition of what Asher intended. “Please, no.” she begged. “The rematch.”

“We haven't even signed the paperwork for the rematch,” said Asher. “And this way, at least if you win, I’ll still get something out of you.”

“Please,” Bailey bagged and then in a fit of inspiration: “I’ll blow you! The boys all say I’m good at blowjobs!” Asher did not need to know that they boys were two in number, and that one had said nothing, that one had simply said it was good she swallowed—nor did he need to know that the swallowing had been an accident on her part.”

“You'll blow me anyways either way,” he said.

“Not if I win both rounds,” she protested.

“Even if you win, both rounds,” he countered. “While I was explaining the new bet to your professor it occurred to me that I ought to add a little—call it a commission for my generosity. I've amended the contract to say that if you win, I will have two hours to use each of your holes once before I release you.”

Looking at him through her tears, trying to think through her sobs, it took Bailey some time to understand what he’d said. “That’s not what she agreed on!” she protested.

“I've altered the deal,” said the fat man, “pray I don't alter it further. Now spread your legs, bend over, and grab your ankles.”

“Please,” Bailey begged, “I’m good at blowjobs.”

“Ask me again nicely,” Asher said.

“Please let me blow you instead of fucking me in front of all these people,” Bailey whispered.

“No ‘instead of,’ he said. “Ask again, and don’t whisper.”

“Please let me blow you she asked?”

“Louder and with certainty,” he said.

“Please let me blow you,” she begged, “Please.”

“I'm not sure I heard you. Shout it from the rooftops like your life depends on it.”

“PLEASE, PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME SUCK YOUR DICK!” Bailey shouted.

Asher looked at her contemplatively. “No. Spread your legs, bend over, and grab your ankles.”

Crying, Bailey pleaded. “I promise, I'm really good at blowjobs!”

“College boys think you’re good at blowjobs,” said Asher. The statement on it's own would have been humiliating. Being naked made it worse. And what made it worse still was that it was one college boy ... who had not been that impressed with Bailey's performance. “That doesn't tell me much. And anyways I'm just not in the mood. Legs. Bend. Ankles.” When Bailey continue to hesitate, he added “Now, or I may decide to use the third hole. Without lube.”

Sobbing, Bailey obeyed. Asher bent down and ziptied her wrists to her calves.

“Now, continuing to hold your ankles, turn around. Let your adoring spectators see all three and a half holes neatly lined up.” Part of Bailey wondered what the ‘half hole’ was, but asking. Not only did it not seem like a priority, it seemed like a potential opportunity for Asher to create more mischief. She forced herself to waddle in a semi circle until she was face-to-face with the crowd, who could simultaneously see her butthole.

Asher positioned himself behind her, and Bailey felt someone approach them both. “Towel for your privacy, said Heron.” His privacy? Every time it seems like things couldn't get more unfair Asher found ways to get unfairer. She had to show them everything while he got to hide even the dick he was pulling out to fuck her naked and upside-down in public? Bailey felt the towel slap against her butt. Moments later, his penis entered her.

Bailey gasped as she felt him slip inside of her. She realized that Heron had handed him a towel but no condom. Of course he had been going to fuck her bareback either way, the new bet, if he won, was designed to give him the best chance of making her bare him a child she would never know. Bailey's own misery was so great that it took her a moment to realize he wasn’t thrusting. Why wasn’t he thrusting. He simply stood there, holding his penis inside her. Did the fat man not understand how fucking worked? Bailey now badly wanted him to start thrusting. Even if it meant he would come inside her, the sooner he finished, the sooner he pull out.

Bailey heard the audience murmuring, clearly as confused as she was. And then, she felt something penetrate her anus and pull. Gasps from the audience. Was he planning on fucking her in the ass after all, using her vaginal secretions as lubrication? Her butthole wanted to clench shot at the thought, and yet Asher was holding it open. He continued to not move, to not thrust. The audience continued to murmur. Bailey thought she heard someone say "always knew she was a disgusting slut.”

Asher then pulled out slightly, went back in, and stayed there: penis resting in her vagina like a sword in its scabbard, his thumbs holding her asshole open. The weight became excruciating. Bailey tried to strain at the restraints holding her wrists to her calves, but found they were tight. Every time Bailey thought she could bear no more, she found herself forced to keep bearing more. The experience stretched on like an eternity, and Bailey wondered if her torment would ever end.

And then, at last, he started thrusting. Bailey was so relieved she hurt herself moan in response. In comparison to the wait, it took no time at all before Asher was done. She felt him soften and pull his penis out of her pussy—his fingers evacuated her anal cavity a few moments later.

“Are you going to untie her now?” Heron asked.

“When we're ready to have her sign the contract and start the rematch,” said Asher, “But for now, I could use a break.” He slapped Bailey hard on the ass. “Good girl he said, stay there and let that sink in for a bit.”

With that, Asher, Heron, and even Bailey’s professor wandered off, leaving her upside-down, hands zip-tied to her legs, displaying all her most intimate parts to the murmuring audience.

Chapter 8: High costs for small reliefs

Summary:

Bailey's professor advises her to suck up the month. He thinks she would win a fair rematch even best two out of three, but Asher will do everything he can to psych her up and wear her out, and the risk is too great. She experiences several of Asher's attempts to break her before the match in this chapter, where she spends most of the chapter tied in the same position as the previous chapter. Bailey however fears the certainty of genital mutilation with the old contract.

CW: piss stuff. There is a fine line between piss stuff that grosses me out and stuff I find hot, which I've explored only slowly. That part of this chapter is mostly new, the result of the revision I made to post this. It marks the first time I have written public urination as a spectacle, and the first where I have written pissdrinking/human urinal from the perspective of the bottom.

Eventually, Professor Jackson wandered over to Bailey.

“How are you doing Bailey?” he asked her.

Bailey wanted to ask him how he thought she was doing, bound naked in this humiliating position after being made to beg unsuccessfully to be allowed to give a disgusting fat monster a blowjob in order to avoid raped and anally violated in front of an audience. But that was all too much to get out at once and she just found herself sobbing.

“I'm sorry he said sympathetically, it seems hard.”

He sat down cross-legged in front of her, at least partially shielding Bailey’s visibility from the spectators.

Bailey broke down crying again and she realized her mouth was dry and tears weren't coming.

“Water,” Bailey croaked. “Please can you get me water?”

“I will ask,” said her professor, and before Bailey could say anything else, he was off.

***

He came back a few minutes later with bad news. “I'm sorry, said the professor. Your boyfriend said, and I quote: ‘Water is for winners.’”

“He's not my boyfriend!” objected Bailey.

“He’s not?” Bailey was shocked and slightly offended by the genuine surprise in her professor’s voice. Did he really think that Bailey LaFarge would date a fat, balding weirdo almost a decade older than herself? “Your friend then?”

Bailey tried to shake her head. “If I'm being honest, I barely know him.”

“You clearly trusted him a lot to sign the contract you signed,” her professor observed.

“I didn't trust him,” said Bailey. “He just seemed so predictable.”

“So you signed an open ended contract that let him do almost anything to you—literally any if he paid enough?”

“I thought that part was about not doing that stuff!” Bailey protested.

“What have we said about penalties enforced as fines?”

“I don’t remember!”

“'Any fine is just the cost of doing business for someone rich enough.' You must have known he was rich for all the money he spent losing badminton games?”

“Yeah. I knew he was rich. I just didn't realize he could pay $1000 or whatever to cut up my pussy.”

“What's our first rule of contracts?” he asked her gently, sympathetically.

“If it's in the contract they can do it?”

“That's our second rule of contracts” he corrected. “First rule is to always have someone knowledgeable read over a contract before signing it so you’re not surprised by what’s in it. When it's an actual contract you sign at least, not a contract of adhesion.”

“Even if I known, I wouldn't have thought he’d cut up my pussy!”

“Second rule of contracts,” he reminded her gently.

“I don't think the idea even occurred to him until I brought up cutting off my arms,” Bailey said ruefully.

“So why did you bring up him chopping up your arms?”

“Because his friend Heron had threatened me with that.” Bailey paused. “OK that's unfair of me. She told me he might do something like that, and it seems like maybe he would, he just hadn't thought of it. And Heron, she's the only reason I get this rematch at all.”

“You still haven't signed,” her professor reminded her. “Are you sure you want to? A month will go by fast, you don't even have to drop the semester.”

“I have to, don’t I!?” she demanded. “If I don't, he will cut into my pussy to dig out every bit of my clitoris. He will make sure I never have sexual pleasure again.”

“He may not,” said her professor.

“He will. He wants to make me not a person but a thing, a thing he can own. Failing that, he at least wants to make me have his children. If I back out now, he will cut up my lady parts for sure, and why knows what else he’ll do. Although… if I escape, somehow … I can fight him in court right? Make him give up or take some money to go away.”

Her professor shook his head. “He clearly has deep pockets and I pretty much guarantee he'll go for specific performance. You might be able to drag it out for a year or two and then you'll be right back here only now he's pissed about the court costs and you running away. And the court will probably add punitive damages on top of that. The contract is watertight and he got a lot of witnesses on it. For this one you have two choices:

“Either, you can suck it up for a month, hope he won't cut up your … girl parts? but decide that if her does, it’s better than the alternative. Or you can get a new wager which puts a price on your little head that you hope he doesn’t want to pay, and wager your freedom against a couple years of him trying to make you his brood mare. And even if you win your freedom he's still gonna insist on using you sexually in every orifice at least once. I know what sounds worse to me, but it's ultimately up to you.”

“What do you think my chances of winning are?” she asked him?

“On one hand, you have to win twice to win your freedom. He only has to win once to get years of your life.” Bailey's heart fell. “On the other hand, have you heard the story of the fox and the rabbit?”

Bailey shook her head.

“So there's this fox chasing this rabbit and he asks ‘brother rabbit, you run so fast. How is it that you win every time we race?’ The rabbit replies: ‘Every time we race, you are running only for your dinner, but I am running for my life.’”

“So you think I can beat him? Twice in a row?”

“Not only do I think you can, I think under normal circumstances you absolutely would. I think Mr. Asher believes that as well, and that's why he's doing everything he can to psych you out and wear you down. But if you can find your center, if you can avoid letting any of this get to you, not only do I think you will win both times, you will have beaten him in your heart as well.”

Her professor stood him self up. “I have some errands I need to run. Your rematch is not the move I would make personally, but you know yourself and your own inner strength better than I do. And you know which outcome would be worse for you. If you do decide on the rematch, if you find your center, I promise I will be back to watch you utterly demolish him on the court twice.”

As he walked away, Bailey knew he was trying to be nice and yet she found his faith in her was giving her faith in herself. She would not let that creep win, she would find her center and she would beat him and regain her freedom. He would fuck her once in each hole and it would suck massively, but she would not let that define her going forward. And going forward, she would learn from this experience to be a lot more careful about the contracts she signed.

 

***

 

When her professor left, it was not long before the observers began poking her. Someone had found a set of long pointy sticks of the sort used for roasting hotdogs. The observers now began poking the sticks through the fence.

Bailey stepped back and a moment later, Heron was upon the scene. “Hey, stop that!” she said. Bailey breathed a sigh of relief, to be rescued by the pixie girl again, but she breathed to soon. “What do you think you're doing!?” she demanded.

“Sorry, muttered one od the observers.”

“Not you!” snapped Heron. “Her!”

“Me!” squeaked Bailey.

“Asher told you to stay where you were, and told me to make sure you did.” With that, Heron pushed Bailey such that she stumbled forward and ended up even closer to the fence then she had been.”

“But they're poking me with sticks.”

“Asher gave me no instructions about that,” Heron said, in a tone that suggested that she had lost patience with Bailey and her kindness towards her was at the end. Bailey wondered what on Earth she had done to deserve that. Sure Heron had treated her with kindness, but Bailey had done nothing to her that she knew of. Did she think Bailey was a slut because her friend fucked her? Was she in love with Asher? Was she mad about her ‘lewd and lascivious’ masturbation act?

Bailey was forced to clench her eyes shut to protect them as she felt the sticks poking her breasts, her nipples, her belly, her privates. One individual seemed particularly determined to work the pointy stick into her butthole, which he eventually succeeded in doing.

“You will admit,” said Heron, “you can see why it looks like fun from their end, though?”

Bailey said nothing.

“Oh right, you can't see, because you've got your eyes closed. Well if you could see, you'd realize it does kind a look like fun.”

 

***

 

Eventually, the crowd lost interest in poking Bailey, although the stick in her butthole remained there. She opened her eyes, to see that Heron had begun to wander off. “Wait!” she called.

Heron turned back and responded with a grunt of annoyance: “What?”

“Please, I need to pee.”

“I’ll get Asher,” grumbled Heron.

She wandered off and shook his shoulder, returning with him maybe a minute later.

“Heron told me you need to answer nature’s call,” said Asher. “Oh, hey, what’s this?” He tugged at the skewer in her butt hole, first pulling it up and then pulling it out.

“The crowd got bored waiting and someone found sausage skewers to poke her with,” Heron explained. “I hope someone recorded it, cause it looked like a lot of fun.”

“Oh,” he grunted. “Anyways, go ahead.”

Bailey didn't realize he was addressing her and so she said and did nothing.

“Go ahead,” he repeated. “I give you permission to pee.”

“Here, now, like this?” Bailey asked incredulously.

“Yeah why not?” He asked in a voice that suggested he wanted no answer to the question.

Bailey could not resist answering anyways. “Because this is a badminton court and not a bathroom? Because I’m upside-down?” She decided that pointing out this was a public place with a crowd would find no traction with Asher.

“Your own streams aren't controlled by gravity, it's totally possible to pee upside down,” he assured her. “And the club doesn't just host swingers events, it also hosts kink parties that do watersports. Do you know what that is?”

“It’s piss play,” Heron explained, before Bailey could respond.

This was evidently the best that Bailey was going to get. And doing the match with a full bladder would make it hard to find her center. She closed her eyes and tried to find her center now, to let go. She felt the release and then heard her stream of urine splashing against the court. She heard murmur of the crowd change in tenor, and a couple of ‘Ew!’s, ‘Yuck!’s and ‘Gross!’es. At last, she was done.

Then, immediately after she finished, she felt something clip one of her zip ties. She opened her eyes to see that Asher was already moving to cut the other. Bailey felt needles in her hands and feet as full circulation returned. Before she could get used to that however, Asher put his hands on her shoulders. “Now kneel,” he said, “It’s my turn. Heron told me you asked for a drink.”

As Bailey realized what he had planned, she pleaded with him, knowing it was futile. Asher did not even acknowledge. He seized her jaw with one hand, put his flaccid penis in her mouth, and grabbed her neck by the other.

She felt his warm salty urine enter her mouth. She didn't want to swallow and yet knew that she would have to. And then, as the flow stopped, she felt him become tumescent inside her. “Oh dear,” he said, In the voice that was loud and seemed deliberately theatrical “looks like the flow stopped. Now is your chance to show off those blow job skills you were bragging about.”

Bailey wanted to protest but his dick was in her mouth, with one hand on her jaw and the other hand on the her neck. She did the best she could, running the tip of her tongue along the bottom of his penis. Eventually she felt him flinch slightly and his penis go flaccid again.

“Good girl, overrated blowjob,” he told her, “now swallow.” As if she had any other option, as if she had not just been drinking his piss. She hadn't even noticed his ejaculate, but as if on cue the stream of urine started up again. “She is thirsty in more ways than one!” he announced loudly, eliciting laughter and jeers from the audience.

And then at last, he was putting his dick back in his pants. Once again she did not even have time to process before Asher’s next move.

“OK he told her, I'm ready for our rematch?” in a louder voice, he called “Jeremy?”

The sexy, fruity, referee and notary approached with the rematch contrast, followed by a full dozen witness. One of them was Dr. Jackson.

“I read it he reassured her,” as Asher handed her the contract while Bailey still kneeled completely naked facing an audience of at least a hundred. “It says what he said it says. Best two of three, your freedom against a creature-fecundity-year-equivalent. You still get a six-figure statutory payment if he cuts out your clit, but he still gets two hours to fuck each hole once more even if you win.”

Hearing the terms so stated again, the fact that the contractor said what Asher had represented was small relief indeed. And yet, it was relief nonetheless, since any deviation could only have gone against her. Without even trying to read it herself, Bailey signed the extremely one-sided rematch contract.

Chapter 9: "Freedom's just another word for nothing left to loose"

Summary:

Bailey plays her rematch matches against Asher. Best two out of three. She finds her center at last: it looks like it will be a blowout...

Bailey stepped on the court and took a deep breath. Asher was playing for his dinner and she was playing for her life and she needed to use that, not let it panic her. She just needed to find her center, to play from a place of perfect calm. She thought of this song: “Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose, nothing ain’t worth nothing but it's free.” She had nothing right now, and she was free, if she could only let herself be.

Another breath. It didn't matter that she was naked in front of an audience of perhaps hundreds. It didn't matter that Asher had put his fingers in her asshole, his penis in her mouth and pussy in front of that audience. It didn't matter that his urine was still in her stomach and his semen still in her vagina or even working its way into her uterus. Either she would be free to take the morning after pill or … best not to think about that.

Find her center. Play for her life. Bailey became one with the racquet and the birdie. She volleyed, Asher volleyed back, and on her second volley, she scored a point. But the point didn't matter, she was nothing but she was free. She was one with her racket. She scored another point, and another. She had racked up 14 points before Asher scored his first point. But she had one point left to win and she couldn't let that faze her. Her serve, and she scored her fifteenth point. She had won the match. No need to extend it to 17, no need to take that risk. And yet, Bailey wanted to make a point now. She extended the match and hit points 16 and 17. 17-1, a complete blow-out. She had proved Asher’s win definitively a fluke.

Someone handed her water and she drank the entire quart bottle in a single long swallow. It was cold, it was refreshing, it was what Bailey needed. She didn't even blink when someone asked her if she wanted to go again. She didn't see who, it didn't matter, she was one with the racket and the birdie.

 

***

 

The second game was almost a perfect repeat of the first. 14-0 before Asher scored his first point. And then, it began to seem that both luck and skill had deserted her.

Asher racked up a second point, and a third. Asher kept racking up points but Bailey didn't count. She only needed one more point to win. And then she heard the score: “15-14 to Asher. Do you wanna continue or call it?”

Bailey’s heart dropped into her gut. The water she had guzzled suddenly threatened to upset her stomach. Or maybe it was the piss Asher had made her drink? Asher had the right to call it here and to claim her now for—Heron had said it might be three years, hadn’t she? Before she could even begin to truly panic, Asher said he wanted to continue.

Why? It made no sense, he had what he wanted. But regardless, Bailey scored two more points in succession. She took the lead again, 16-15. She only needed one more point. One more point and she would be free of this nightmare and considerably wiser.

Asher tied the score. Bailey still only needed one more point. But now, so did Asher. It was his serve ... and he got it without her even managing volley.

Bailey had won one set in a blowout. Asher had won two matches by the thinnest margins. Bailey still was not sure what had gone so wrong with the second match. She had never seen Asher accumulate a streak of 15 points before. Bailey had never even seen him get close until the first, fateful match which had brought her to this point. Bailey has scored more points overall, but Asher had won the set. The set he had said he wasn't going to play. And now he was approaching her.

 

***

 

With a smile on his face that seemed both friendly and genuine, Asher held out his hand. For Bailey to shake. Numbly, Bailey took it. He was smiling like he hadn't just blackmailed her into this match with the threat of cutting out her clitoris at the very root, like he hadn't raped her, humiliated her, and forced him to blow her in between two bouts of pissing in her mouth.

“Good game he said. Ready for the next chapter of your life, or would you like to go best three out of five on making it permanent?”

Bailey processed his offer. It was another opportunity to beat him twice. But something felt off. Why had she won that first rematch in the blowout? How had she fumbled so badly in the second one? Why did the second rematch almost repeat itself until she was one point from winning. Bailey shivered. She had never believed in black magic and yet now … It was like someone had hexed her.

And the wager he was offering was her freedom again against her very personhood. If she lost she would cease to have any legal status as a person, she would become legally an animal he could do whatever he wished with.

Bailey shook her head. She had cried her self out earlier and now she just felt numb.

“Are you sure?” asked a rich masculine voice behind her. Bailey turned to see that the man who had asked that question was Dr. Jackson, her handsome law professor.

Notes:

I had planned to revise all the way through to get this story published up to about this point and mark it as complete. Leave out the last paragraph and it can be seen as a suitable ending to a standalone story. However, I've realized that the part that comes after immediately after this really fits better with this part of Bailey's story than it does when Asher gets Bailey to his house. That part will take some serious revising due to continuity errors introduced from my revisions before posting up to this point, so still I'm taking this as a stopping point on this series for the moment.

Chapter 10: A situation horrifying beyond laughter

Summary:

Professor Jackson encourages Bailey to go for best three out of five, making the case that even losing is a better situation than what she's currently gotten herself into.

Notes:

If you read this story before I posted this chapter, I have rewritten and added about 300 words in Chapter 7, which you may wish to reread. Those words came out of this chapter and I decided they no longer made sense given my earlier revisions, but were still hot. After consideration I decided that Chapter 7 was the best place to put them.

This chapter is heavy on legal discussion. Abusing the law to degrade and objectify people and show them just how powerless they are is part of my kink, but if you don't find that hot—or if you are an actual lawyer appalled by my sovereign-citizen-level legal knowledge—feel free to skip to the next chapter. Also, if you are a lawyer, keep in mind that this is a world based around a modified version of the American legal system that has far fewer restrictions on what contracts are enforceable.

Her racket dropping from her limp hand, Bailey turned to face the professor she adored, the man she had hoped might save her. She stared at him wondering what he meant, unable to bring herself to ask. And then in a rush she blurted out “but you told me not take the last bet!”

He shook his head regretfully. “I did, but now the damage is done.”

“What damage?” Bailey choked out.

“Do you really think that spending years as this man's sex toy and bearing him at least one child you will never get to raise you're gonna come out of the other end psychologically whole?” her Professor asked.

Bailey glared at Asher defiantly. A year—or possibly three years—was still better than a lifetime.

Asher ignored her and turned back to Professor Jackson. “Well Professor, how about it then?”

How about what!? Bailey wanted to ask. Yet she found she could not speak at all. She could barely stand.

“Pardon?” asked Professor Jackson.

Asher tented his hands together.

“Oh!” Professor Jackson laughed with what seemed to be nervous relief. “The Eiffel Tower thing.” His tone suggested that the idea of him and Asher jointly penetrating her was a frivolous and even fun proposal.

“It's a private club and we've got a lovely audience.” Asher gestured to the hundred plus assembled spectators.

“She's not your student anymore.”

“That's actually an interesting question,” said Professor Jackson. “Legally she still is, but unless you permitted her she would not be able to testify to a third party’s complaint, much less make one herself.” He was looking right at Bailey as he said that and yet it was like he was looking past her, praising her naked body as a piece of meat.

“What if I withdraw her from the university right now?”

“I won’t!” Bailey protested. It wasn't even so much that she objected to Professor Jackson publicly fucking her. At this point, gross, fat Asher had fucked her and made her suck him off. If Professor Jackson wanted her, it would prove to the audience that he was interesting in Bailey—that she was not so boring or mediocre as everyone claimed. But the idea of Asher ending her education as well as everything else was a bridge too far.

Professor Jackson shook his head. Now that he was seeing Bailey as Bailey again and not just a naked nubile body his disappointment threatened to crush her, to suffocate her, to drown her. “What you want wouldn't matter. Among other things, he has power of attorney. In fact…”

Dr. Jackson looked Bailey over in a way that she had always fantasized about. He was examining her naked body but he also seems to be seeing her. In her fantasies it has been hot. Here and now, in the circumstances she was in, it was mortifying and she felt tiny. Still appraising her he reached into his pocket to pull out a wallet and pull a card from his wallet.

His eyes lingering on Bailey, he turned back to Asher. “If you do decide to withdraw her, give me a call.”

“Or if I make her fully my property?”

Professor Jackson merely shrugged. “Sure, then too.” As the monstrous statement sunk in for Bailey, she realized that her professor had accepted the idea of using her body sexually after Asher had stripped her of the last vestiges of legal personhood.

“Wait!” she protested. Professor Jackson turned back to her. Bailey pulled herself up an tried to puff out her chest in a manner both confident and seductive. “What if I say it's OK, then you can fuck me but I can stay in school!”

He looked at her with the look he gave students who had obviously not done the reading and were trying to bullshit through the discussion, looked at her like she had just said two plus two equaled five. “There's at least three problems with that suggestion. Can you tell me what they are?”

Before Bailey could even begin to speak Asher answered for her, counting off on his fingers. “First, since I have her power of attorney, I decide if she stays in school. Secondly her consent is irrelevant, since decisions about her body belong to me. Thirdly I assume the regulations state that a student cannot consent to sex with a professor.”

“Undergrad student, but yes. Well, actually I was thinking about coerced consent doesn't count, not that consent concerning her body belongs to you. That's an interesting point though. I hadn’t considered it.” Professor Jackson beamed at Asher in the way that always made Bailey light up on the rare ocassions he directed it at her

“Hadn’t considered what, sorry?”

“The regulation is constitutional because the university is to some degree permitted to define what constitutes a consent violation. But state and federal law supersedes academic regulations.” He turned back to Bailey, looking her over in a way that seemed almost predatory. “And Bailey here is no longer capable of giving consent, or perhaps it would be more accurate to say she is no longer legally capable of declining it. Now that I think about it the case would be quite clear unless they could make the case that you are my student.”

Asher laughed. “Even if they did it would be hard to make the case that I was an undergraduate student when I have a Master’s Degree myself.” He moved towards Bailey and wrapped his hand around her waist. Ignoring her shudder he pulled her towards him. “Either way, I think we can safely say that this is not the body of a student enrolled in your class, not legally speaking.”

Professor Jackson chortled genially. “I suppose you're right, there.”

“But what if I don't want you to fuck me!?” Bailey protested to her own surprise. “Do you not care about the moral issues?”

Professor Jackson looked at Bailey severely. “You are telling me that you think it would be morally objectionable if I fucked the body you inhabit by permission of the rightsholder, because you objected?”

“Yes?” Bailey ventured weakly.

His eyes lit up in the way that they often did when he had cornered a student in the process of bullshitting. “On what theory.”

“On the theory that it’s my body!”

“But it’s not, is it?”

“It's not Asher’s—whatever the stupid law might say!” Bailey protested, finding she had a new font of tears after all.”

“In a very technical sense of course you are correct. Asher does not on your body, rather he has what?”

Despite herself Bailey found herself desperate to please her teacher. But she didn't know. Clenching her eyes closed against the tears she shook her head.

“What rights does Asher not have with respect to your body?”

“He can't mutilate it?” Bailey was almost begging for confirmation that she’d understood her contract.

“As a practical matter he can, provided he pays the penalties. But why are those penalties assumed? What rights does Mr. Asher here not have?”

“Alienation? He can’t cut parts of me off?”

Professor Jackson sighed, so dramatically seemed like he was about to bury his head in his hands with frustration. “That's not what alienation is. What is alienation, Bailey?”

“The right to sell me? Or, the rights he has in my body, anyways.”

“Good. I know you had it in you, Miss LaFarge.” Professor Jackson rubbed her head. He was touching her naked body in front of an audience in the most patronizing unsexy way, Bailey could imagine. Even the use of her last name seemed to simultaneously patronize and desexualized her. But it was also a sign of praise, and Bailey’s body flushed with pride. Then he continued. “And tell me, Miss LaFarge the right of alienation, is that something Mr. Asher now possesses.”

“I… no?” she ventured hopefully. “He can’t sell me for meat or medical experimentation, right?”

“You're on the right track, but does Mr. Asher possess the right of alienation with respect to his beneficial ownership of this body for the next period?” As he said ‘this body,’ Professor at Jackson slapped Bailey's ass for emphasis.

“I guess, yes?” Bailey ventured, the only other possible answer.

“Correct, and indeed he could sell that body for medical experimentation, although the buyers would be subject to the same penalties as he faces. As a practical matter he could probably sell you for meat too, although the penalties would be quite substantial if anyone sued. In practice, no one would buy you as a meatgirl under the terms of your contract unless they wanted you specifically, and had the money to make it happen. And no offense, Miss LaFarge, but I don't think you are interesting enough for that.”

To hear her professor first tell Bailey that Asher could likely get away with killing her—or selling her to someone who would—and then tell her she was too boring, too mediocre to be worthwhile… It took all of Bailey's strength to avoid collapsing onto her knees or even just curling up into a ball. And yet if Professor Jackson had any idea of the impact his statement might have on her, he gave no indication.

“So what do those things have in common, Miss LaFarge? Selling you for medical experimentation or meat, why are their penalties. Why does Mr. Asher not have the legal right, even if he has the practical one?”

“I…” Bailey started to stammer, before choking up.

“Think of the bundled tripod of ownership rights under Roman law. What rights does Mr. Asher have over that body for the time being?”

“He can use me however he wants!” Bailey nearly shouted. “And if I have any babies they belong to him!”

“Right! Good girl!” Professor Jackson patted her head again. “So what rights are those?”

“Usus and fructus. He has only usufruct rights on my body!”

Professor Jackson beamed. “And the right he does not have is?”

“Abusus! He does not have the legal right to destroy my body.” Bailey paused. “But he would have it if I went best three of five and lost. So why did you say I should do that?” Her voice was almost pleading. She winced as she felt Asher dig his fingers into her waist where he still held her. Bailey suddenly felt herself terrified that Asher would get bored of this conversation and drag her away from the man who still seems like her only possible lifeline out of this. He was showing interest in her sexually yes, but that could be her salvation.

“For one thing as I said, I can't imagine you coming out the other side of this whole. But for another thing, what have I warned about usufruct arrangements?”

“That...” Bailey’s mind was a blank, and then it came to her. “That unless you have sufficient penalties against destruction they can often be more destructive than ownership!”

“Precisely. Right now you're in a position where if you win you go free and despite a humiliating and even unpleasant experience it’s been half a day. You still have a chance to rebuild your life more or less as it was.” Somehow, all Bailey could think was that ‘humiliating and even unpleasant experience’ was an offensively tactful way to describe Asher’s public multiple sexual assaults of her body, violations which—being legal—would go completely punished even if she went free.

“And if I lose…” she started to protest.

“And if you lose, he will own you completely and he probably will sell you for medical experiments or meat not long after menopause. But in the interim he will treat you like an asset. And you will never find yourself having to cope with the aftermath of two or three years in which he has tried to extract maximum value from your body. Even that, I would argue is a better outcome than what you are facing now.”

Bailey shook her head. “Whatever that man does to me, I will survive, I will be free, and I will put my life back together.” She felt Asher squeezing her side painfully as she refered to him as ‘that man.’ And yet somehow the knowledge that she had gotten to him felt like a win.

“Well then,” said Asher, “that's settled.” He turned to the crowd and suddenly grabbing her by her waist hoisted her up. She would never have believed that the fat man could be that strong. Bailey kicked her legs reflexively, not even thinking to try to get a good blow against him. “There will be no second rematch,” he announced to the crowd, “and now I claim my prize. For those who want to stick around, I'll be having a bit of fun with her before I bring her home. For those curious about future entertainments, I would invite you all to speak to our referee Jeremy.”

Asher then turned away from the crowd, moving towards the bench at the end of the court. He dropped Bailey over it and she allowed herself to simply slump, legs and hands dangling off it. Then she felt a painful jolt through her entire body. “On your hands and knees,” he told her. Bailey complied and realized he was holding a cattle prod. Where had that come from? she wondered, in a fashion that felt so abstract she nearly giggled. Her situation was horrifying and yet for the moment she was beyond horror, beyond crying. Bailey smiled slightly but found she was beyond even laughter as well.

Chapter 11: The perils of getting mounted

Summary:

Asher once again proposes Professor Jackson Eiffel Tower Bailey with him, but Professor Jackson is concerned about HIS privacy. In a conversation where Bailey finds herself mostly too upset to speak, Heron suggests that Bailey lost the match deliberately. Professor Jackson accidental he gives Asher an idea which seems to snuff out all hope for Bailey's future until Asher says something that gives her a ray of hope again.

“Well Professor,” said Asher, “How do you feel about a public demonstration of the Eiffel Tower.”

“I think I see a few of my students in the audience,” said professor Jackson.

Bailey felt her body gripped with panic, wondering who among her classmates was watching, but decided it was better not for her to know. By the time that Asher was through with her and she resumed her studies, she would be forgotten anyways. Such are the benefits to being boring and mediocre.

“Is that a problem?” Asher asked. “We can get you a towel to protect your privacy.” Once again this idea that Asher—and any other man he licensed to do so—could fuck her naked body in public while still protecting against anyone seeing their willie because of privacy! It was so absurd, so offensive, so degrading.

“It might be actually.” Professor Jackson looked contemplative as he stared at the fence with the audience.

“The whole moral issue.” It was Heron who spoke.

“Oh that's right isn't it?” said Professor Jackson. “Miss LaFarge raised a moral objection to me Eiffel Towering her, and I will admit that I got us lost in the weeds of legalism. It is, after all, my life’s work.” Bailey's heart began to rise at the idea that her professor would consider her moral objections to him publicly using her this way after all.

“No it's not that,” said Heron curtly, almost snapping at him. “Miss LaFarge’s objections”—the woman practically sneered as she used Bailey’s last name—“were frankly incredibly dumb.” As she said that she turned and crouched slightly to look Bailey directly in the eye. “Tell me honestly, was your moral objection just that whatever the law said, you shouldn't have to have sex you didn't want?”

That seems like a perfectly reasonable moral objection to Bailey, and yet in the face of Heron’s interrogation she nearly wilted. “Yes,” she whimpered.

“And you knew that the stakes included Asher making decisions about the uses of your body, including sexual ones?”

“Well, yes, but—”

Heron did not let Bailey finish. “Then why, pray tell, did you lose the match to Asher twice?”

“I didn't think I would!” Bailey attempted to protest “He never got close to winning before.”

“Indeed.” Heron’s voice suggested that that was very much her point, although Bailey still found herself at a loss as to why. “Asher has never won a badminton match except against absolute beginners and people who were deliberately trying to lose.” Heron turned to Asher apologetically. “Sorry, Ash, but you still kind of suck at badminton.”

“I'm getting better, though!” Asher protested.

“Better is still a long way from good,” said Heron. “Ash, I love you, you are truly one of my oldest dearest friends, but you started so low the bar was in hell. Best-case scenario you are years from being good at any racquet sport.”

“I threw the second match!” Asher protested. “I let her win!”

“Maybe,” said “Heron, but if you’re ever going to be a ‘racquet sharp,’ choosing when you lose is only half the battle, you also need to choose when you win. And Miss LaFarge pretty transparently let you win the first match and the third.”

She was saying Bailey had done what now!? “I DID NOT!” she found herself blurting out in a mixture of horror and outrage.

“Sweetie,” said Heron condescendingly, “I get it OK? Ash is a cool dude. He’s fun, he’s creative, he’s safe. You were raised in some backwards religious denomination that taught you a desire for sex with something to be ashamed of, and when your friends ‘lost’ to Asher, you saw a way to have all of the fun of sex with none of the responsibility. I'm not asking you to take responsibility even for that decision, but don't treat me like I'm a fucking moron.”

Bailey wanted to protest and yet found she could say nothing: her throat was complete choked up.

“She told me she didn't let me win!” protested Asher.

“Asher, my dude…” Heron began. “For someone so smart, you can be such a fucking idiot sometimes, especially when it comes to people. Especially especially when it comes to cute girls. Twice she got well ahead of you and then just let you catch up and overtake her. She was so horny at the thought of being your little sex pet she publicly masturbated in front of a whole-ass audience.”

Bailey attempted to protest. Still choked up by her own indignation, she only got out an incoherent squawk that both Heron and Asher seemed to ignore.

“I thought she said she was trying to get arrested for lewd and lascivious conduct?” said Asher. “I mean, until her professor here told her that wouldn't work?”

“That was obviously an excuse,” said Heron. “These repressed religious girlies are all the same. They don't want to admit they want sexual pleasure and they'll make whatever excuse comes to their heads when they're caught.”

In the midst of her overall indignation, Bailey found herself perplexed at the idea that she had had a deeply religious upbringing. Her parents were nominally Lutheran, but they rarely went to church except for Christmas and Easter, and they always been pretty progressive and even feminist about sex stuff. When her mother gave her 'the talk,' she had told Bailey that waiting until marriage was unrealistic but she should at least make sure the guy was going to commit to her, that he liked her for more than just sex. Meanwhile, the discussion of Bailey’s intentions between Heron and Asher was continuing without Bailey.

“OK but like it felts very different,” said Asher “The boys and that other girl it was all like ‘no no no please Br’er Fox don't throw me into the briar patch.’ Bailey here seemed genuinely upset about losing, especially the first time.”

“Pardon me,” said Professor Jackson, “but would it make a difference whether she intended to lose to you or not?”

“It absolutely would!” declared Asher indignantly. “Despite what some of y'all think, I can tell when people let me win. If not in the game then the way they act afterwards. That's part of the game, and I want them to keep playing. So I try to figure out what they want and give it to me and they recommend me to their friends and come again. Everybody wins except the morals of decent society. But if I actually won Bailey here fairly, it's the first time I've done so. She’s not catch-and-release, she’s my trophy fish, and I want to stuff her and mount her on my wall.”

“Metaphorically speaking?” asked Dr. Jackson. “Or are you actually planning on taxidermying Miss LaFarge when you’re done with her?”

“I wasn't planning on it,” said Asher, “but now that you mention it, what would the standard penalty be?”

“For unlawful death of a 23-year-old, about 4 million, before modifiers,” said Professor Jackson. Asher sucked in air between his teeth. “But most of those modifiers would probably be in your favor, especially towards the end of your term. And that's if anyone even has the standing to bring a lawsuit.”

“That's steep,” said Asher “but I might go for it at the end of the term, if I'm reaching the end of the term. But I'm pretty confident I can change her mind.”

As Bailey processed this threat of Asher having her killed and mounted rather than give her up, the light at the end of the tunnel seemed to vanish. And with it went all of her determination to steel through. In a moment her mind was changed. She needed to take the bet, to bet her freedom against her life. Even if she lost, it looked like Asher wasn't letting her go either way. At least this way she might not turn her into taxidermy. But she might not lose. Bailey still did not know why had she choked on the third match—except that she was certain Heron was wrong about it being a choice on her part—but Heron was confident Asher still sucked.

Bailey knew that she needed to overcome whatever had stopped her from speaking. Mustering all her energy she sat up on her knees and blurted out “I’ll do it!” Suddenly, all eyes were on Bailey again. The silence stretched and she repeated herself. “I’ll do it” came out as more of a croak this time.

“Do what?” Asher asked.

Bailey found that she could not respond. She made as if to pick up an imaginary racquet and swing it.

“I think Miss LaFarge is saying that she will go best three out of five: her freedom against her personhood.”

Bailey nodded enthusiastically, doing her best to smile.

Asher laughed and zapped Bailey with the cattle prod again. “That ship has sailed,” he said, as he stared at Bailey intently. As he started to bring the cattle prod forward again, Bailey realized she wanted her back on her hands and knees on the bench and hastened to comply.

“I thought you wanted full ownership over her,” said Professor Jackson.

“I mean of course I do, but I will get it one way or the other. Or if I don't, I'm really starting to like this taxidermy idea. And a few million is a lot for me now, but a couple years from now it may not be. A decade from now I'm certain it won't be, and it will be nice to have my first trophy when I’m a billionaire.”

“But you could own her outright today if you win again,” said Professor Jackson.

“That's an ‘if’ that is doing a lot of work,” said Asher. “We still haven't determined if she lost to me deliberately or not.” Bailey wanted to protest that she hadn't but bound that she was once again speechless.

“If you do the rematch, you could find out for sure,” said Heron.

Asher shook his head. “If I lose, I still won't know why. Maybe I got lucky twice and won’t a third time. Maybe she let me win but is now changing her mind in the reality. Although I suppose if she did let me win she’s not a trophy, and it probably doesn't make sense to spend millions to have her stuffed. All I will know if I lose is that I took a stupid bet and lost this lovely bird in the hand.” Asher reached underneath Bailey to grab her right breast, squeezing it hard.

“But if you win, you’ll own her fully and outright today,” said Heron. “Either she really is your first trophy and you'll have her forever—you could even taxidermy her at cost if you want—or it proves she likes you enough but even if she pretends otherwise she wants to be yours forever.”

Asher shook his head. “I don't know what point there is the taxidermying a post-menopausal body. And there's no point in catch-and-release with a fish that wants to be eaten. Hell maybe if she did let me win and she admits to it, she’ll be my concubine after: she gets access to the kid in turn for making me more of them. But if she is a trophy, well the good professor here has convinced me that even though full lifetime ownership is a better deal for me, it's a far better deal for her. If I make her fully mine it will be because she has recognized that as well, conceded that it’s better to surrender her personhood and let me take full ownership over her body.”

Even if it meant she wouldn't be free today, Bailey heard a ray of hope in Asher’s statement. He was not sure that she had lost him legitimately. He had indicated that if he could be convinced of that he would let her go free with the hope that she would voluntarily become his concubine. Given her denials if she would have to pretend, to drop hints and to admit it only slowly. But it was a way out. And Heron would help. Heron was convinced it was an act on Bailey’s part. Or was she?

Suddenly, Bailey felt the same leaden feeling in her stomach she had in the third match. Was Heron just a little too condescending, too indignant? Bailey suddenly thought about the leaden feeling in her stomach in the third game. Heron had given her that water bottle, was there something in it? Could she prove it? Could she sue? What would happen if she said some thing right now? But it did not matter, because right now it seems like Bailey was in capable of speaking. Meanwhile, the conversation about her had moved on without her.

“Yeah I really don't think I'm comfortable with a public demonstration,” said Professor Jackson, “Although I truly appreciate the offer.”

“What if we took the demonstration somewhere more private?” Asher asked. “Like the men’s restroom?”

Professor Jackson looked over Bailey's naked body again, and suddenly she found herself terrified. This was the man who had just given Asher the idea of stuffing and mounting the very body he was eying hungrily—at least if Asher ever become fully convinced she was a trophy he’d won legitimately. “I wouldn't mind trying an Eiffel Tower on Miss LaFarge, in the men’s room, said Professor Bailey—not even if we had an audience. It's mostly the sensibilities of my female students I'm worried about. Quite a few of them I am told I have crushes on me. It might upset them to see me fucking a student who went to such great lengths to make herself another man’s fucktoy.”

“Especially when that man is a weird, clumsy, lardass,” said Asher with perhaps a trace of bitterness?

“You said it, not me,” said Heron. “Although I was kind of hoping to watch the Eiffel Tower.”

“No one will mind if you come into the men's room,” said Asher. “And it's not like that has stopped you before.”

“I would mind,” said Heron. “There's a difference between grabbing a stall at crowded concerts when the women's line is unbearable and going into a men's locker room to watch a couple men whip their dicks out.” Once again, her was someone concern over the privacy of the men who would be the fucking Bailey's naked body without a thought the sex object they were using or the feelings of the girl inhabiting it.

“Yeah it's fine to watch in public?” Bailey had rarely seen Professor Jackson look perplexed, but the girl with tricolored hair seemed to perplex him.

Heron shrugged. “What can I say? It's different when it's coed?”

“Why do you think that is?” the Professor asked.

“I don't know? Public is public and private it's private I guess? Why do most guys watch porn but feel weird spying on their neighbors in the bedroom?”

“I know it's sociology professor who would like to interview you,” said Professor Jackson.

“Desi Jordan?” asked Heron.

“You know Dr. Jordan?” asked Professor Jackson, “er, you know Desiree?”

“She's my ex,” said Heron. “Well, sort of. She was the unicorn in a three-way my ex and I did this one time.”

As the conversation momentarily moved off of Bailey, she decided that somehow, having people talk about sex around her while she was publicly naked, speechless, and locked in this objectifying pose might be worse than having people talk about her in that same pose. Suddenly she had time to think and everything that had happened, that was happening, that could happen came rushing back to her. She wanted to faint but knew that she couldn't even do that. If Bailey fainted, she would bruise and scrape herself on the court, and then Asher would zap her with the cattle prod.

Bailey looked at Asher. She could not tell if he was watching her or his friend and her professor or both at once. But she thought of her out, convincing Asher that she had intended to do this all along, that she wanted to be the disgusting fat man’s concubine and baby mama. She mustered her best attempt at faking a genuine smile. If Asher noticed, he gave no indication.

Chapter 12: Bailey meets "the lucky twenty"

Summary:

Heron invites twenty lucky spectators to get up close and personal with Bailey's body, provided they touch with their hands and 'don't put an eye out'. Most of them grope her in a way that proves boring remarkably quickly. But among them are a few—more creative than the others—she recognizes as classmates. One fails to recognize her, the other recognizes her all too well, it is not clear which is worse.

Notes:

This is an entirely new chapter without precedent in the first draft, except that Melissa and Kermit both show up later. I believe it is longer than any other chapter in this story and possibly that I have posted on this site—except one shots. Part of me wonders if this might disrupt the flow but I felt that if I wanted to keep the next few chapters intact, I needed something to disperse the crowd—which was only a dozen people in the original draft. Making the crowd watch other people grope Bailey in mostly boring fashion seems like a good way of achieving that, but since I also needed to not have Bailey get to used to it, I "borrowed" some characters from the future.

Because this chapter is entirely new and breaks the otherwise intimacy of Bailey/Asher/Heron/Professor Jackson, whether or not this works is some thing I would really appreciate feedback on. If it doesn't work here I can always remove it and re-purpose it for later.

The conversation between Heron and professor Jackson could not have lasted more than a few minutes, and yet the wait seemed to stretch on into eternity. Bailey tried not to think of the audience she had, but that only made her acutely more aware of the audience to her very public humiliation and current,now unremarkable, nudity. But then Asher moved closer and I said something, and Heron turned towards the crowd.

“Folks,” said Heron, “our good referee needs to leave, and my dear friend Asher will be departing with his winnings not long after this. However, I think it's pretty clear that Miss LaFarge wanted to give y’all a show, and now twenty of you lucky onlookers have an opportunity for a private audience. If y'all want to lineup outside, Asher is inviting twenty people to examine his new pet: hands only, of course, but you're welcome to put your grubby little fingers wherever, as long as you don't poke an eye out. And if that's not your thing, or if we have more than 20 people, there's some clothes she won't be using anytime soon that I'll be passing out as souvenirs.”

Heron’s voice was so businesslike that it took Bailey a few moments to process what precisely the announcement meant. It meant that they were giving her clothing away to random onlookers. It meant they were just giving away the jeans, shoes, and shirt all of which had cost her hours of her normal wages to earn, back before she started winning money off Asher. It meant they were giving away her underwear to perverts—and her socks to perverts too, come to that. And yet somehow that was the less horrifying, less mortifying part of that announcement. Because Heron had just said that they were inviting twenty people to grope and fondle Bailey pretty much wherever—contingent on them not poking her eyes out.

The referee made his way out the gate as Heron finished her announcement, and already the first of the lucky twenty onlookers had come through the gate and was approaching Bailey. This was a woman of about Bailey's age or a little bit older, somewhat chubby and homely-looking. She was the kind of woman that Bailey would likely have forgotten if she met her and Bailey found herself wondering if she had forgotten her. But of course it wouldn't matter, when Bailey couldn't speak anyways.

Approaching Bailey, the chubby woman ran her fingers through Bailey’s hair, which wasn't too bad except that she caught it not at one point and pulled a bit. Then she ran her hand down Bailey's back, stopping at the small of her back a few times before finally letting her self carry on to the top of Bailey's buttocks. After everything Bailey had been through, that felt like less of a violation than her hair, in fact being stroked from her shoulders to her backside actually felt pretty good. Then Asher invited the chubby woman to touch Bailey ‘anywhere you want,’ and she fled. For the first time today it seemed like Asher proving himself a creep was working to Bailey's advantage.

But before the chubby woman had even left, the next set of hands were upon her. Bailey tried to avoid turning her head to look too curious. These hands felt bony, and she felt them first squeeze her butt cheeks, then her thighs, then her belly, and then her breasts. By the time the owner of the hands had made her way up to Bailey's breast, Bailey recognized her as a painfully skinny Asian girl she was pretty sure sat in the front of her environmental science class. 

After those quick grabs, the girl started to turn and then almost as an afterthought went back and grabbed Bailey's pubic mound, then moved around behind her, squeezed her hands between Bailey’s thighs, and squeezed the inner thighs. Bailey wondered what the Asian girl was thinking: was she shocked at how much flesh and fat American girls let themselves have? Was she judging her for it? Would Bailey’s flesh—excessively ample by the standards of the skinny Asian chick—become the talk of her class, embellished and exaggerated in each telling.

The Asian girl was followed by a different set of hands, still hard, but stronger, starting with Bailey’s breasts. She realized that this was a nerdy Asian boy with glasses, thin but not emaciated. Bailey wasn't sure if she recognized him, but then, she wasn't sure if she could tell apart most of the nerdy Asian boys she had seen. Was he the boyfriend of the skinny girl? His hands lingered on her breasts, running up and down like he was milking them, and then he shouted something in a language Bailey did not understand. There was a tinkling laugh—the skinny girl?—and then his hands moved unto her butt. 

The Asian boy grabbed Bailey’s butt cheeks and jiggled, then slapped them first in succession like he was playing the drums and then together. Then she felt his fingers penetrate her vagina. He seemed to be almost as shocked as she was—just asquickly pulling his hands out. But this was followed by a sensation of something penetrating her anus and pulling it apart. Was this Asian boy the one who had stuck at the hotdogs you were in her butthole when she was tied up? It was something she would never know. And seeming to have satisfy himself, the Asian boy left.

The next boy to explore her breasts, butt, and vaginal opening was a mid-looking white dude. Bailey did not recognize him—he looked like the kind of guy who probably didn't go to college, but who definitely majored in business if he did.  He squeezed her hard on her breasts and buttocks and went so deep into her vagina with his hand it felt like he might tear her apart from the inside. But he was mercifully quick with all of it, and seemed to have no interest in her asshole.

He was followed by another generic white dude, and this one Bailey wondered if she recognized him. She thought maybe she had a class with him. He followed the same routine of grabbing her breasts, then her butt sticking his hand in her vaginal orifice, but while he lingered and slightly longer he was much gentler, and then he was gone as well. As violating as it was, that pattern was one Bailey thought she could possibly get used to—at least enough to tune it out. But unfortunately just as she had the thought, the next girl broke the pattern.

***

“Bailey Bailey Bailey,” said a painfully familiar voice, “I always knew you were a slut but this is truly something else.” Even without looking, Bailey knew that the voice belonged to Melissa. Bailey was not sure what she had done to offend Melissa, but she was the girl who had persuaded Bailey to blow that one boy at that party—and then photographed it and spread rumors about Bailey’s insatiable love of cock. 

When she paused beside Bailey, Bailey didn't even have to look to know she was taking a selfie with her. Possibly she took several before crouching down and grabbing Bailey's chin, pointing  Bailey’s face up towards her phone’s camera. “Smile,” she told Bailey, which Bailey did not oblige. This resulted in one picture of Bailey looking sullen and several where Melissa was pinching  Bailey's cheeks so hard that her mouth had opened like a fish. 

When she had apparently satisfied herself with those pictures, Melissa went around to Baileys backside where she spread her labia wide. “Man, she's wet as the ocean here!” Melissa announced loudly, before presumably taking more selfies with Bailey's exposed nether regions. She then came back around and rolled Bailey's nipples in her fingers until they hardened. “Hard nips too! Our girl Bails is a hungry, horny, sex machine!” Melissa stuck her camera underneath Bailey to photograph her underside, and then pressed her phone against Bailey's solar plexus, forcing her back onto her knees. 

Bailey looked anxiously around at Asher, who watched the whole thing impassively. “Hands on your head,” Melissa told Bailey. Bailey made no move to comply until Asher stepped forward, hand on the cattle prod. Melissa then made to take more selfies with Bailey and Asher took another step forward, cattle prod out.

“If people want a photograph with your face,” he told Bailey, “I’d better see you smiling for the camera.” Bailey attempted her best smile as Melissa snapped several selfies with her fully exposed front side. The only consolation—and a narrow one it was—was that the narrowness of the bench meant that her legs had to be together. Unfortunately, Asher seemed to notice that and ordered her to turn around and spread her legs. This gave Melissa the opportunity to—among other things—photograph herself fisting Bailey, all while Bailey had to fake a smile.

***

The one upside of Melissa's visit, when she was finally done, is that it allowed Bailey to see what was going on around here. Melissa she realized had been her fifth ‘visitor’ out of twenty, and the next three were Melissa’s friends: two women and a man. The girls also pinched her nipples, grabbed her boobs, and slapped her as one also pinched and pulled at her clitoris in a way that made her want to squeeze her legs together, only Asher standing there with the cattle prod preventing it. Both took selfies where Bailey was forced to smile, but neither took anything like the time Melissa had.

The boy—was he familiar?—first sucked on her nipples and then took her clitoris in his mouth: between the teeth. He wasn't biting her precisely, it wasn't even painful—although when he pulled his head back it pinched a bit—but the fact that he could take that part of her in his teeth, the fact that Asher was the only person with the right to tell him no and he seemingly had no interest: that was kind of terrifying. He did not take selfies but Melissa and her minions photographed him.

Then he looked at Asher, and shouted “hey!”

Asher looked Melissa’s boy-minion. “What’s up?” he asked. Then he reached for his cattle prod. “Has she not been smiling?”

“No look up like I know you said no dicks, but could I maybe get a picture where she is like holding my dick and balls in her hands?”

“I'll do you one better,” said Asher. “If you don't mind people photographing your junk, take it out and I’ll make her kiss it. Also, talk to Heron on the way out—she’s the one with hair in three colors”

“The dyke?” the boy interjected.

“Yeah, kind of,” said Asher. “Anyways, Heron can tell you about our future events. I don't think you'll wanna miss tonight, if you can make it.”

“Cool,” said the boy, who was pulling his penis and testicles fully out of his unzipped, unbuttoned fly.

“OK Bailey said Asher, I want you to cup his balls gently with one hand and take his penis with the other. I want you to bend down and kiss and lick the top and the tip, slowly so his friends can get some nice pictures.”

Perhaps an hour ago—though it seemed an eternity—Asher’s dick had been fully in her mouth: he’d both made her drink his piss and suck him off. Objectively that was way worse than kissing and licking the penis of a dude who frankly looked pretty normal. But the guy in front of her was the friend or minion of the girl who had gotten Bailey to perform oral sex at a party, photographed it, and made half the school believe she had an insatiable urge for cock. It was all too much, Bailey instead bent down and hugged her knees. 

Asher put the cattle prod right up against her tank but didn't use it. The threat was enough. While Bailey fondled, kissed, and licked the penis of Melissa's friend, Melissa and her two girlfriends filmed the entire thing. Asher had won, and in that moment, part of Bailey wanted to just give up and tell Asher he could have her so long as it meant she never had to face the social challenges of personhood again. But she couldn't speak, and the boy was already putting his dick away as her next “visitor” approached.

Bailey barely seemed to notice the next several visitors—it seemed like nothing any of them did could compare with the humiliation of practically worshipping Melissa’s guy friend’s cock for Melissa and her friends to film. As a variety of men and women—mostly college-aged but a few older—explored the most intimate parts of Bailey's body, Bailey found herself continuing to wonder what she had ever done to deserve Melissa's ire.

Abstractly, she thought she recognized one or two of the people who made so free with what now seemed like the body of a separate person—and she found herself wondering once again what she had done to deserve what was now happening to her—and then her penultimate visitor stuck his fingers up her nose.

 

***

 

Before Bailey had time even to process what he had done he had pinched her cheeks to open her mouth and grabbed her tongue between the thumb and forefinger of his other hand. He pinched hard as he pulled it out. 

Bailey was so shocked by those creative violation of her face that it took her a moment before she realized she recognized the dude. He had sat at the front of her intro to psychology class. Bailey did not know his name, but Bailey and her friends had called him “Prince” after Martin Prince from the Simpsons. Like Martin Prince, “Prince” had a whiny voice. He was an insufferable know-it-all, the kind of student to remind the teacher she had forgotten to collect homework or hand out a pop quiz. 

He was fat—although not as fat as Asher—and unlike Asher clean-shaven. He wore his hair—which always looked mildly greasy—in a ponytail. He normally wore a tweed cap and vest. Today he was wearing a hunting vest and a straw hat. As he looked at Bailey, she wondered if he recognized her, given that she had always sat behind him in class and rarely spoken, given that she was probably not among the ten prettiest girls in that class. And then, still with one hand up her nose and the other squeezing her tongue, he shouted out “Professor Jackson!”

“Kermit!” said Professor Jackson, “It's nice to see you!” On an abstract level Bailey recognized that Kermit was a fitting name for the boy she had called “Prince,” with his nasally voice, frogfish waddle, and permanently damp appearance. But she found the amusement in the observation hard to come by as his fingers in her nose and on her tongue became increasingly painful.

“Great to see you here, Professor,” said the boy, still holding her nose and tongue in thrall.

Fortunately, the Professor, Bailey's one time crush and possible savior—now apparently a man who planned on Eiffel Towering her in the bathroom whether she wanted it or not—proved her salvation from that discomfort. “That's an interesting pose you have there,” said the professor.

Kermit looked down almost with embarrassment. “I was just thinking you know all these people are so uncreative. There was one girl and her boyfriend, I think? who did some cool selfies, but aside from that it was a whole lot of just slap the ass, grab the boobs, feel around in the cunt and asshole. I was thinking, that bombshell with the rainbow hair, she said ‘anything except poking an eye out,’ right? I assume that probably also applies to rupturing the eardrums?"

Professor Jackson nodded. "Probably."

“But, like I may never have this opportunity again. Even if I can find a girl who wants to sleep with me, what are the odds that she would let me shove my fingers up her nose, or pull out her tongue and keep it there?”

“Higher than you might think,” said the professor. “I've got some friends who run in kink circles.”

At last, Kermit released Bailey's tongue and pulled his fingers from her nostrils. This was immediately followed by him shoving his thumbs into the corner of her lips and pulling at her cheeks.

“Maybe,” he said, “but now I can say I've done it, if anyone asks.” His interest in her mouth lasted a lot less long than his initial hold on her nose and tongue, as the chubby know-it-all moved down to grab her armpits, digging his thumb in to a painful degree.

“Anyways,” Kermit continued, “people forget what parts are sensitive on others if they're not sexy. OK I mean I guess people consider the tongue and armpits sexy, but or some people do, but it's easy to overlook when you've got everything on display.” Kermit then proceeded to skip everything between her armpits and her knees as he grabbed Bailey by the back of her knees and pinched so hard she nearly collapsed on top of him.

“Do you know the … display model,” Professor Jackson asked Kermit.

The froggish boy shook his head. “Nah, she looks like any of several hundred basic-ass normie chicks. I could probably sit right next to her in class and not remember her.” Bailey blushed both at the description and to realize that this unappealing young man was more memorable to her than she had ever been to him. She had a little time to dwell on that though as he next squeezed her inner thighs between his thumb and forefinger, pinching that sensitive flesh between the knuckles. Almost as an afterthought he asked the professor “Do you?”

“She was my student,” he said “one Bai—”

Kermit cut the professor off. “I don't need to hear it. Now she's just the sex toy of that dashing gentleman with the cattle prod over there.” He pinched Bailey’s, outer labia in a similar fashion, then pulled them out. It was a lot less painful than her inner thighs and she wondered if he was using less force or she was disassociating from those parts of herself that had once been most intimate.

“Asher,” said the Professor.

“Yes?” said Asher, as Kermit proved that Bailey still had sensation in her genitals when he pinched and pulled her clitoris painfully hard. Bailey actually did buckle a little bit. She felt a flash of gratitude that Asher was distracted and then outrage and embarrassment that she should be grateful that the man who had the right to say what happened to her body didn't catch her flinching when some random fat kid pinched her genitals.

“Oh I was just telling Kermit here that that's your name,” said the Professor. “Kermit was one of my best students in Law and Moral Principles.”

“One of!?” Objected Kermit in apparently mock outrage, punctuated by a hard double slap of each hand on each of Bailey's ass cheeks.

“You are the best student in your class,” said the professor, “but I've had one or two better over the years.”

Kermit pinched Bailey's nipples in a similar fashion, and then flicked them. Then he walked away to shake Asher's hand. “Well Asher,” he said, “I wanted to thank you for the opportunity. In five minutes you've given me a greater familiarity with female anatomy than years of sex ed and countless hours of erotic video.”

“I'm flattered, said Asher, as the last of the ‘lucky twenty’ got to examine Bailey’s body. She was a dumpy-looking woman who looked to be mid thirties and ran through the predictable set of tips and tricks. “But also if you think this was educational, you should speak to Heron about our future events.”

“Heron?” Kermit asked, as the dumpy woman continued feeling Bailey up is a fashion she now found blissfully boring.

“‘The bombshell with rainbow hair,’ I believe you called her,” said the Professor.

“Oh I will absolutely speak to her!” said Bailey’s chubby ex-classmate, that annoying know-it-all who had forgotten he’d ever had a class with her left her with sore spots in the most random parts of her naked body.

“I don't think you're her type,” warned Professor Jackson. “I don't think she likes men?” The last part was posed as a semi-question to Asher, who shrugged.

“That sounds like exactly my type, unfortunately” said Kermit. As he wandered off, the dumpy woman who had been feeling up Bailey took that as her cue to leave as well.

***

And suddenly it was over, at least the ordeal of the gropefest. On some level of course Bailey recognized that it was a tiny part of her overall ordeal: she was not even through the day, and she had started her morning free. But surely Asher could not keep up with the manic piece of her morning’s humiliation and torture across days, much less years: if he didn't get bored, surely his audience would. 

Before she could even ask herself again what she had done to deserve this, Bailey heard Asher asking the Professor. “OK, Doc, ready to build an Eiffel Tower in the john?”

Chapter 13: Two men in the men's room with Bailey

Summary:

Asher and Professor Jackson come to an arrangement on Eiffel Towering Bailey in the men's locker room.

“You understand,” said Professor Jackson, “that I am a law professor?”

“I do,” said Asher.

“So you’ll understand that I have a great care for details.”

“Of course. I do as well.”

“So before I agree to participate in your Eiffel Tower scheme, I would like to pin down exactly what you are thinking.”

“Sure.” As the fat man and her one-time crush and professor negotiated their joint arrangements concerning her body, Asher idly poked Bailey all over her front side with his cattle prod—from her inner thighs up to her armpits. He did not actually shock her, and yet Bailey flinched every time convinced that the first time she didn't would be the time he pulled the trigger.

“So the first question is, do you mean the actual restroom or the men's locker room?”

Asher pushed the cattle prod into Bailey's belly button. “The locker room I think? That's the one that's just across the way?” He gestured with his hand towards a covered building not far from the courts.

“I believe so. Next question: what is the arrangement you were thinking with respect to the available holes?” In the context of the conversation, it was not particularly shocking the three orifices on Bailey's body which could accommodate a human penis had ceased to be body parts and had become a collection of holes. And yet Bailey found it deeply unsettling that her now-former professor refused to acknowledge the holes in question as pertaining to Bailey at all.

Asher, on the other hand seemed determined to make a point of which holes they were referring to. “On your feet” he told Bailey. After perhaps an hour of various sorts of kneeling on the bench, Bailey found herself wobbly to stand on the ground again. “Bend over and grab your ankles again,” he told her. Bailey complied, expecting that he would once again zip tie her wrists to her ankles. But Asher did not bother with zip ties this time. Instead, he waved the cattle prod about like a wand as he began to lecture her professor. Naked and upside down it was a truly surreal experience, made all the weirder by the fact that it was a lecture about how he planned to use her body.

“For the next year or three—however long the calculations come out I have her—I possess the exclusive right to decide how to use this lovely body that Miss Bailey is presenting to us,” Asher explained. He slipped the tip of his cattle prod between the lips of her labia, into her vaginal vestibule. “I've already made use of this one, and”—he removed the cattle prod from between what would normally be her lower lips and inserted it between the lips of her mouth—“this one.”

Asher paused as if for emphasis before moving the cattle prod to touch Bailey's anus, which she realized, absurdly, was currently the ‘uppermost’ hole on her body. “I personally don't have a particular love of this hole, but I still wanna be the first to use it. So for the first round I'm thinking I will go in the back door and you can go through the attic window so to speak. You can tell me whether her blowjob skills live up to their reputation.”

Professor Jackson nodded somberly. “Do you know that you are the first to use that hole? A lot of religious girls use it as a loophole.” Bailey wondered if the flush of mortification she felt was visible—and whether the two men had noticed it. She absolutely had never let a man fuck her in the ass before. She had never heard good things about the experience, and the realization that Asher was going to in a matter of minutes was somewhat terrifying actually. And how had Professor Jackson bought into the idea that she was some kind of repressed religious nut?

Asher inserted the cattle prod into her vulval lips again. He then pushed the lips on her left side, presumably exposing the vaginal orifice. “No hymen when I went in, no bleeding. Whatever is going on with her, that's not a hangup she seems to have.”

“She could've been assaulted,” said Dr. Jackson. “That's common with minors in those super-religious groups.” What the hell!? Not just the assumptions about her religious upbringing, not just talking about her sexual history like Bailey wasn't there, but her professor was suggesting that she was some kind of freak would rather take it up the ass then make love to a guy she liked. Bailey wanted to protest and yet upside down, grabbing her ankles, showing all of her naughty bits off in a glance the idea of her saying anything felt absurd. Well fine then, if they would not ask, she would not correct them.

“Either way, I want to use every hole before I invite any other dicks in. Actually this one”—Asher now shoved the cattle prod so far inside her Bailey feared it might be touching her cervix—“I plan on keeping for my exclusive use. I have the right to make babies with her and I want them to be my babies. But with the ends of the digestive tract,”—he took the cattle prod out of her to tap her asshole and then her mouth—“I just need to be there first.”

“So you will fuck her in the ass, while she sucks me off, and I'll report how I think her fellatio skills stand up to her reputation?” Bailey's former professor and former crush asked.

“To start,” said Asher, “but if it's OK with you I'd like to go two rounds. Switch off on the second.”

“So I'll take the asshole while you get sucked off second time around?” asked her professor. “Given you wanted to preserve the cunt for yourself?” Even after everything else that had transpired, Bailey would not—until that very moment—have imagined that ‘cunt’ was a word Professor Jackson would use. Part of her was still not sure she could believe it, even though he had made abundantly clear that he was willing to use her body sexually if he would not get in trouble for it.

“That's the plan,” said Asher.

“Sounds good to me,” said Professor Jackson, “although I would be lying if I said I wouldn't rather use the cunt.” That word again.

“Tell you what,” said Asher. “If I let you try it out this one time, do you think you can promise not to tell anyone?”

“Sure. And I could use a condom too.”

“I appreciate the thought but sometimes I take calculated risks. You've probably been fantasizing about using that cunt since before I even knew it existed.” Bailey wondered whether the double meaning of that statement was intentional.

“I'd be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind,” said Professor Jackson. Bailey’s heart did a weird sort of backflip at this. Even before all this went down, Professor Jackson had noticed Bailey, Professor Jackson had fantasized about fucking Bailey, just as she had about him. Perhaps mediocre, boring Bailey was not so boring or mediocre as all her peers seemed to think. It seemed impossible that a truly boring girl could attract the sexual or romantic interest—for they were essentially the same thing weren't they?—of a Professor half his female students desired. The reality did not look set to match her fantasy, true, but did it ever?

The two men shook, and then Asher turned his attention back to Bailey. “Can you do a handstand?” he asked in a tone that suggested there would be penalties if she couldn't. Bailey made her best attempt at compliance, and while she was still trying to stabilize herself, Asher crouched down and embraced her around the armpits. He heaved her up such that her knees went over his shoulders and then he bent her upper body up, folding her double against him such that his chin rested on her head.

Carrying her in this manner, Asher began to waddle off towards the locker room, accompanied by Professor Jackson. Heron joined them at the gate, and Bailey realized that the crowd of over a hundred seemed to have largely dispersed. In the weird and awkward position in which Asher carried her, Bailey could not tell whether any of the remaining observers were following them to the locker room. But she heard Asher bid farewell to Heron as they approached the locker room door. He sounded slightly winded and yet the fact that the fat man could carry her perhaps a hundred yards and only be slightly winded suggested a strength beyond what Bailey would have predicted.

Then, without any ceremony, Asher straddle the bench and dropped her onto it, first her torso and then removing her legs. “All fours he grunted.” Though disoriented by the whole fair, Bailey hastened to comply. “Heron give you my bag?” Asher asked Professor Jackson?

Professor Jackson handed over a bag that looked like a cross between a tote and a messenger bag and Asher began to rummage around in it. He pulled out a bottle of lube first, and then a box of condoms. “Condoms are for me,” he explained “I don't wanna fuck her in the ass bareback.” Somehow that felt monstrously unfair to Bailey. He effectively owned her body—he had inseminated her and made her drink his urine, both of which seemed like a far greater contamination than anything he might run into fucking her in the ass. But of course he effectively owned her body for the forseeable future and what Bailey thought didn't matter. Asher continued to rummage through his bag.

“What are you looking for?” asked Professor Jackson.

“Blindfold,” grunted Asher. Then, “found it.”

“Blindfold?”

“This is the men's room” said Asher, “and Miss Bailey plans on becoming a free woman again at the end of our contract. If other men came in and she remembered that at this point, I rather think it would be a retroactive violation of their privacy, don't you?”

“Good thinking,” replied the professor.

As Asher fastened the blindfold around her eyes, Bailey considered the ridiculous, appalling unfairness of it all. They were violating not just her privacy but her bodily autonomy and human dignity, and she would have to live with that if she became a free woman again. Moreover Asher had expressed his determination that she should never be a free woman unless he was convinced she wished to be his concubine and baby mama all along.

***

As Bailey ruminated on the unfairness of it all, she felt a hand pinch her cheeks, and then a finger pulling down her jaw. The finger went out and something larger and warmer and slightly softer replaced it. “Be a good girl and suck me dry,” said Professor Jackson, his voice warm and gentle yet authoritative. “Use your tongue, run the tip around, and go back and forth.” Bailey was too shocked to comply. And then, suddenly she felt two hands around her neck. There were two points of painful pressure on her throat, and she felt like she was about to choke. The hands released. “Let's try that again,” the professor’s voice commanded.

Almost simultaneously, she felt something force its way into her butt, then begin to slide in and out. It was uncomfortable verging on painful, and she realized the reports she’d heard about anal sex were not wrong. But the hands on her throat had been more painful and she made her best effort and giving a good blowjob. It was not something she had much experience with, nor indeed sexual experience in general. Aside from her high school boyfriend, there had been only a brief fling in sophomore year and a few desperate, lonely hook ups. The exact number of the last had blurred together, but Bailey could count her number of sexual partners on the fingers of her two hands.

She worked her way back-and-forth, trying to run her tongue around the bottom and sides of Professor Jackson’s penis. She wasn't sure if it tasted less repulsive than that one guy she’d blown at Melissa’s urging, or if she was just too exhausted to notice. She felt a slight release of pressure in her butt followed by a pulling out. “I guess nice guys sometimes finish first!” said Dr. Jackson. The suggestion that Asher was anything like a nice guy was appalling to her. But then she had fallen for it to and from Dr. Jackson's perspective letting him use both ends of her digestive tract must be pretty generous.

She tried to focus on the task at hand, tried to avoid soaking the blindfold with her tears. She felt something warm and slightly gelatinous and salty metallic tasting irrupt into her mouth. This was followed by a deflation of the penis and it's exit from her mouth. She tried to gather the ejaculate into a mass to spit it out and then she felt a pair of hands clamp her head and jaw together.

“Swallow.” Asher told her. “Always swallow. It saves making a mess for others.”

Based on the apparent location of his voice, Bailey was not sure if the hands clamping her mouth shut along to Asher or professor Jackson. But reluctantly and with a feeling of slight nausea she obeyed. Why was it she wondered that she hadn't noticed anything when she had blown Asher? Was she too distracted by the urine? Or was cum something that emptied and had to be replenished?

Whatever hands had held Bailey’s head now released it. Then she felt something cover her mouth and pulled tight around her head and she realized Asher was gagging her as well. “Until we're both ready to go again,” Asher said. “I'm afraid I forgot to ask you your refractory period, although mine is about 25 minutes.”

“I'm afraid mine is nearer to an hour,” said Professor Jackson.

“No worries,” said Asher. “We will go outside and have a chat until you’re ready. And who knows? Maybe you'll be ready sooner. They say you're only as old as the woman you're fucking.”

Chapter 14: Locker room talk

Summary:

Asher and Professor Jackson take Bailey outside the men's locker room. Bailey is forced to stand naked an blindfolded on her tip-toes while the two men talk shop, so to speak. And she learns the stakes may be higher than she could've anticipated.

After a moment’s pause, Bailey felt arms wrapping around her torso, squeezing her breasts and trying to lift her up.

“Do you want help with that?” asked Professor Jackson

“Sure, you take the knees and I'll take the armpits.”

Large, strong hands, gripped her thighs just above the knees, and lifted her fully off the bench. With Asher hugging her torso to his chest, she found herself jostled around through occasional mutterances. She barely had time to wonder why Asher had not made her assume the handstand position she used to pick her up last time, before she felt herself being dumped ass-first on cool concrete.

Almost immediately, hands—presumably Asher’s—pulled her up into an upright kneeling position. Her hands were crossed over her head and then she felt something constrict first her right wrist against her left elbow and then her left wrist against her right elbow. Then something hooked under both elbows and hold her up, first forcing her to her feet, then dragging her backwards. She felt a hand push her flat against a wall, and then the upward force on her elbows resumed until she stood on her very tiptoes.

“I see you came prepared,” said her one-time professor, her once and future rapist.

“I've been hoping to use the hooky harness or whatever you call it for awhile, but I've never had the opportunity,” Asher explained. “However once you start thinking about what you can do with a body you rent, or a creature, you start to notice things. Like this here.” She felt his proximity as he seemed to reach and tap something above her head. I don't know what you call this… It's not a hook. It's a loop but that suggests flexibility. A loophook?”

“I think it's just a hitch,” said her professor. “Like on my truck.”

“Oh yeah, when I did horseback riding you had hitching posts.” Bailey tried to picture Asher ever being thin enough to ride a horse without breaking its back. Her imagination completely failed. “OK so anyways these hitches, have you ever seen one before?”

“Probably, although I can't recall.”

“They are in almost universal feature of public restrooms. And yet I only noticed it when I started looking into what people do with their creatures. I've always wanted one you know, but have you seen the prices? I'm hoping to make Bailey here one.” She felt a hand slap and then gently rub her belly and pubic mound. “You know my ambitions were small until she insisted on a rematch.”

“But now of course you plan on extinguishing her personhood so you can fully own her,” Professor Jackson observed dryly.”

“Well yeah, wouldn’t you? You helped me see it's really the best thing for both of us. You know, I wonder how much she’d go for.” There was a lengthy pause and as Bailey strained against both the hard item in her elbows pulling her up and gravity pressing on the balls of her feet, she realized Asher was probably doing market research on her body.

Finally, Asher spoke again. “So I'm seeing a pretty wide range for females of her age and with no defects. I’m seeing everything from 80,000 to 600,000. Seems to be a combination of perceptions of physical appearance and residual personality factors.”

“I must say that's less than I would have expected said Professor Jackson. Who would've thought that you can buy a female body in its early twenties for five figures.”

“There's gotta be some defects in those ones,” said Asher “but still it's a lifestyle thing right? If you're going to the trouble to acquire a nubile female body near the peak of its fertility window, you're probably looking to pump out babies. On round of IVF and surrogacy takes you above the low end. If you want multiple kids, especially considering the side benefits of owning, it's a no-brainer.”

“So somewhere between a new truck and a nice house?” asked Professor Jackson.

“That's a good way to put it,” said Asher. “Anyways”—Bailey felt his cattle prod poke her in the navel—“This particular baby factory is in good condition and reasonably attractive, so I figure nice starter home prices maybe, buying something like it on the open market.” Bailey stood naked and stretched to her limit, blindfolded and gagged, as she was forced to listen to Asher reducing her entire life to the market value of her reproductive system. “How much would you pay to own her?” he added after a reflective pause.

“My wife would probably murder me if I acquired a creature, especially an attractive young and female one, and especially the animal remains of a former student.” And yet it was apparently totally fine with his wife if he stuck his penis into a former student who was still—legally anyways—still a full woman, against her wishes. If—no, when—Bailey got herself out of this, she would have to have a word with Mrs. Jackson.

“And I simply couldn't justify buying some thing like her outright,” said Asher—the man who had not two hours before contemplated spending millions in penalties to kill and taxidermy her—“at least not with my income as it is currently.”

“Hopefully she'll be your first, then” said the professor. “I do agree that full ownership would be better for both of you. And Bailey always struck me as a reasonable so it when she was my student, I imagine she'll come around.”

“I know she will,” said Asher. “The big question is whether she'll be my last. I have five more matches lined up in the next two weeks with likely prospects.”

“How do you define a ‘likely prospect?” asked the professor.

“Female, college age, no major defects in appearance, bet on at least a month with me.”

“And you’ve got five lined up?”

“Well some of them might be catch-and-release. Hell it still worries me that Bailey might’ve been. In which case all the ones that aren’t might get away.”

“And if it turns out you're still bad at badminton and you can only catch the fish that like being caught?”

“Then I suppose nobody does catch and release when they're hungry, and I'm starting to crave seafood. Bailey here”—he slapped her abdomen hard with his hand, for a moment she stumbled and felt her weight all hanging from her armpits as she scrambled back to her toes—“is actually the second I've acquired this way, but the first one wouldn't do a rematch over her month. I suppose I'll have to see if I can persuade her to up the stakes within a month. Bailey claims that one lost to me deliberately, and if that's the case I might be able to catch that fly with honey.”

Suddenly, Bailey realized with horror just how high the stakes were. From what Asher had just said, he had Hannah again and was seeking to make her condition permanent. Moreover, he had the opportunity to do what he had done to her to perhaps five more of her female classmates. At least some of them she imagined, might even be persuaded to gamble their lives. It was possible that Asher might end the month with at least partial ownership of seven young women, with the objective of ending their personhoods before their lives even began. Suddenly her aching toes seemed like the least important part of all this.

“OK,” said Professor Jackson, “fair enough I guess. But can I ask why female? Is it just the value thing? I'm realizing I've heard a bit about you from my students and they say that you aggressively swing both ways.”

“That's half-true,” said Asher. “and a fair question. But also, OK so I'm a dominant, and the sex of the person I'm dominating doesn't inherently matter—not much anyways. Even so—and even if you leave out the breeding potential—there's still two problems when it comes to boys. The first one is that at least so far, the boys I've been it's been clearly voluntary on their parts. They’re bottoms and they want me to torture them. Which doesn't necessarily make it way less fun, I'm more of a dominant than a sadist. But it also means they’re queer, and the disease risk with men who have sex with men is a lot higher. I choose not to be part of that category. I won't fuck a man unless I've turned him into a woman first.”

“And you've done that?”

“It's another ambition of mine.”

“So the first problem is you're afraid to fuck men because of the disease risk. What's the second?”

“The other one, like you said, is value. Do you know how much the healthy young animal remains of a gay bottom go for on the open market?”

“I'm afraid that's not my specialty.”

“I'd be lucky to get $20,000 for one in tip-top physical condition. If I have this window of opportunity—where I might be good enough at badminton to win but word hasn’t gotten around—I'm using it on the bodies that have more value on the open market. That's always young and female in this economy.”

“So you're planning on selling some of these students if you can convert them to creatures?”

“Certainly not immediately, but very possibly long-term. I suppose it would depend on if I need the money but it's a bit like an IKEA chair, you know? Any of these prizes that I've won myself, there's a lot of sentimental value. Do I need seven female creatures to do my house work and satisfy me sexually? Absolutely not. Do I need the number of kids I could have with that collection? No. Do I want that many kids nonetheless? Maybe. Would it make the most financial sense to keep one or two and sell the rest? Absolutely. And yet, to have a collection like that, and look at it and know I acquired it for such bargain prices…

“All told, if I lose all of the next five matches, three rounds each, I'm looking at $16500. That's on top of $3700 I've already spent. Over $20,000 isn't a negligible chunk of change even for me, but it's a price I can bear, especially with the consolation prizes of two victories already. But that's the absolute worst-case scenario now. Well, the absolute worst case scenario financially anyways, my friend Heron has pointed out to me that if some of them lose the first match too closely they might nope out on further matches. For me, that would be worse than getting three more opportunities, even I I lose.”

“Do you mind if I ask who the others are?” Bailey suddenly felt a flash of hope. She wondered whether Mr. Jackson was playing the long game. She wondered if maybe he would warn her classmates. “Well I'm assuming the girl you already have is Hannah Gireaux. She was one of the students I heard gossiping about you, and she didn't show up for class today.”

“That's correct. The other matches I have are with Jacqueline Goldman, Cassidy Jones, Gloria Connor Lee, Farrin Rogers, and Suzanne Almeria.”

“Cassidy is a stunner.” Bailey's heart fell as she realized Dr. Jackson had no intention of rescuing her classmates. “If you pull off the same stunt with her, call me. I’ll be there if match works with my schedule, and you’re not worried my presence there might spook her. Actually, can I give you a word of advice? As a law professor, not a lawyer?”

“Of course.”

“My advice is to make the contract a guaranteed three rounds unless you win in an earlier round—or however many you can afford to pay for, if you want to be safe.” Bailey's heart sunk further as she realized Professor Jackson not just didn't intend to warn her classmates, but he was trying to help Asher do to them what he’d done to her. “Better still, if you win in an earlier round, it automatically escalates.”

“I think it would be harder to sell escalation to a year or a lifetime before they're facing a month. Heron explained to me today just how terrifying that prospect is when you're not expecting it.”

“I'll tell you though, a year and a lifetime don't seem like a big escalations when you're young and expecting to win every round. And they won't be paying much attention to that part of the contract, just the almost $5000 they expect to win easily.”

“Isn't it the job of the notary to explain the terms in detail? The reason I hire Jeremy is because he is known to be incorruptible.”

Dr. Jackson laughed. “In theory of course. In practice, few people care about the details, and most get annoyed if we try. I don't know Jacqueline or Gloria: they never took my class. Cassidy and Suzanne I can guarantee won't read it, and they won't have the patience for the finer details. Farrin, I feel like she could go either way, but I can try to sound her out. I have her in my class right now and I'll see if I can work in an assignment on risk and get her perspective.”

“I appreciate the effort, but don't put yourself out on my behalf,” said Asher.

“Oh really, it's no bother at all. Actually I wouldn't mind seeing any of these girls naked, or doing the double team all over again.”

“Well then, I appreciate it. But what were you going to have Bailey explain to me?” Bailey felt Asher release her from suspension, felt her feet flat on the ground with relief. Moments later, she felt him removing her gag.

 

***

 

“Oh, that…” said Mr. Jackson, almost absentmindedly. “Bailey, what happens if he gets three or however many games and the escalation terms in writing—and then your classmates try to back out after one?” Bailey wondered what it meant that he was back to using her first name after he had force her to suck him off.

“He would have to sue them.”

“Excellent! You’re a smart girl, Bailey. If Mr. Asher here is wrong and you come out at the end of this year a free woman, I see a great career ahead of you.” Bailey could almost hear the beaming in his voice. For a moment it was like he was seeing her again, and not just her naked body. It made her feel warm and fuzzy. It made her feel grateful to be in his presence even under the current conditions. She hated the power his praise held over her. “Now tell me, Bailey, there’s another angle here as well: how might Mr. Asher here accomplish his goals without a lawsuit?”

“I don't know…” Bailey murmured, feeling not just embarrassment but a multilayered shame: Bailey was disappointed despite herself at disappointing the man who had just choked her the make him suck him off.

“What is Mr. Asher’s goal, Bailey?”

“To beat five students at enough games that they forfeit their legal lives and their animal remains become his personal property.”

“Bailey.” Professor Jackson’s voice dripped paternalistic disappointment. “You're overthinking it.”

“He wants to own the animal remains of five students.”

“Seven, actually,” interrupted Asher. “One for every day of the week. Obviously, I will rename Bailey ‘Monday,’ unless I decide to go by age.”

“But there's five you still have matches against,” said Dr. Jackson. Then, acknowledging Asher’s digression about renaming Bailey on a whim: “Bailey might still be Monday, I think she was one of the oldest students in her class.” That this was a sensitive topic to Bailey, who had failed out of her first college experience Freshman year and had to start over again at twenty, Professor Jackson seemed not to know, much less care. “So Bailey,” he continued, “how can your man Asher here write a contract to maximize his chances of achieving that?”

Bailey didn't know and didn't want to help Asher if she did. She also did not like the description of Asher as ‘her man,’ which implied a level of devotion to her captor she did not remotely feel. But Dr. Jackson clearly had something in mind and still she wanted to impress him by figuring it out. The pause dragged on and to her surprise he gave her no more hints.

“That’s OK, Bailey,” he said gently. “You’re a smart young lady and I know you’ll get it eventually.” The apparent sincerity with which he described her as ‘young lady,’ in marked contrast with her current state, was mortifying. So too was the condescending tolerance of her inability to see what apparently should be a fairly obvious answer. “Why don't you think about it while you’re sucking Mr. Asher’s cock?” he asked. Then with barely a pause: “I'm ready to go again.”

This last was clearly directed at Asher. Her former professor, the man Bailey realized she still had feelings for despite everything, was about to take her in the ‘cunt,’ all while Bailey would suck off the disgusting fat man who now legally controlled her body for the second time that day.

Chapter 15: The proper way to Eiffel Tower

Summary:

Professor Jackson observes that his last dual penetration with Asher of Bailey was more properly a spitroast. While her ex-professor and somehow still crush fucks the part of Bailey he calls a 'cunt,' Asher forces her to perform another blowjob.

Notes:

The Coolidge Effect is a phenomenon in which male animals show greater arousal in the presence of new females than familiar ones.

It is based on a joke about former President Calvin Coolidge and his wife Grace:

The President and Mrs. Coolidge were being given separate tours around a farm. When Mrs. Coolidge came to the chicken yard she noticed that a rooster was copulating with impressive frequency. She asked the attendant how often the rooster mated and was told, "Dozens of times each day."
Mrs. Coolidge said: "Tell that to President Coolidge."
The attendant reported the First Lady's remark to the President, who asked "Same hen every time?"
"Oh, no, Mr. President," the attendant replied,"it's a different hen every time."
"Tell that to Mrs. Coolidge," said the president.

It is part of Bailey's humiliation that she never gets the chance to learn what the Coolidge Effect is.

“That was 35 minutes, closer to 25 than an hour,” observed Asher.

“Maybe you were right,” said Professor Jackson. “Maybe it helps to fuck younger.”

“Maybe, said Asher, but tell me: were you thinking of Cassidy Jones when you got your second wind?”

“Now that you mention it,” said her former professor, “I might've been.”

“Are you familiar with the Coolidge effect?” asked Asher.

Presumably the rest of that conversation was carried on nonverbally. It was a few moments more before Professor Jackson asked: “Do you want to carry her the same way?”

The assumption that she needed to be carried, that she couldn't walk a few feet to the locker room was positively insulting. And yet given Asher had carried her the rather longer distance from the courts before she was blindfolded, perhaps it should not have been surprising that he did not even consider that option.

Asher grunted something unintelligible. Based on his next action, it appeared to be a demurral. She felt the fat man embrace her at the waist and throw her torso over his shoulder. It was a position it felt like she would slide off of any time, but it was a matter of moments before he flipped her off him, backwards onto the bench. She landed painfully on her back, the wind knocked out of her. 

As she tried to catch her breath, her captor untied her arms and directed her onto her hands and knees again. Still blindfolded, Bailey struggled to find her way into the position: slipping several times she scrapped wrists and knees an even once stubbed her toe. Neither her captor nor her former professor—that man who despite everything she somehow still had feelings for—seemed to notice or care.

“You know last time really wasn't Eiffel Towering?” said her professor.

“It wasn’t?” asked Asher.

“If you don't do a double high five, it's just a spitroast.”

“Oh yeah. I've never liked that term: ‘spitroast.’”

“I suppose we'll have to do a proper Eiffel Tower this time, then.”

Bailey felt something slide into her vagina, and shuddered. Then she shivered as she realized it had to be Professor Jackson's penis. In a very loose sense the fantasy she had had since before she even took his course— when she saw him at a lunch lecture—was coming true. Even if the circumstances were not of her choosing, at last a penis was in her that she had wanted in her, and in the place she had wanted it.

However she had no time to appreciate that. Another hand squeezed her cheeks and forced her mouth open. She had no real choice but to take the penis of her appalling master into her mouth. If Professor Jackson had choked her for being too slow, Bailey did not want to think what Asher might do. Pursing pursed her lips around it, she began to explore the underside with her tongue. 

The first time she had been forced to give a blindfolded blowjob—barely half an hour before—had brought back all the awful memories of the first time she'd been forced to suck a man of—perhaps an hour to ninety minutes before that one—and had ended with a disgusting substance in her mouth she was forced to swallow. It has been accompanied by a penetration of her butt which had been uncomfortable almost to the point of pain. 

This time around, the experience seemed less unpleasant almost abstract, indeed part of her relished the presence of Professor Jackson’s cock at the other end of her, the gentle, rhythmic, in-and-out motion soothing, natural, even pleasant on a physical level, the knowledge that it belonged to him almost exciting on a psychological one. There was even a small possibility that Professor Jackson would get her pregnant, a much better outcome than if Asher did so: and he had set things up to make that all too terrifyingly likely.

The idea of Asher getting her pregnant still horrified Bailey. This penetration, assuming Professor Jackson was not using a condom, had the possibility to get her pregnant, to force her to bear a baby for monster now penetrating her and then surrender it to him. This was a violation that she couldn't deny was rape whatever the laws and social mores said. But at least, if Professor Jackson got her pregnant, it would not be the monster's baby.

Bailey remembered hearing that marital rape had once been considered a contradiction in terms. It had not become a crime in all 50 states until the 1990s—the very tail end of the twentieth century. That as before Bailey had been born, but just barely. Her brother had been born in 1998, her mother was pregnant with her sister before the year 2000. If her mother had lived in one of those backwards states, her own father could have legally raped her mother, because legally, it could not have been rape. But it would still have been rape, morally speaking. What Asher was doing to her was unquestionably rape in fact—whatever her peers or the courts would say.

Almost at the moment she reached that conclusion she felt Professor Jackson deflating and pulling out of her. Hopefully he would get her pregnant: it would be better than if Asher did, and Bailey rather liked the idea of seeing Asher cuckolded by his own machinations. The odds that Professor Jackson’s one act of intercourse would impregnate her over Asher’s years of access were long, but wasn’t it time for long odds to favor Bailey, even in this one small thing? The odds that Asher would beat her at badminton not once, but twice, seemed like they should’ve been even longer.

Professor Jackson’s deflation and withdrawal from her ‘cunt’ was followed a few seconds later by the same sensation in her mouth, with Asher’s penis. If there was a substance that came out this time, she didn't even notice. And suddenly she remember that that same penis had been in her butt half an hour before. Had he used a condom? Had he washed afterwards? There was a bad taste in her mouth was that…? She gagged a bit at the thought, but swallowed down whatever was in her mouth. 

Chapter 16: The genial geriatric gentleman jurist

Summary:

While Bailey is still naked and blindfolded on all fours on the bench of the men's locker room, an old man comes in and takes an interest in both the legal puzzles of Professor Jackson, and in Bailey's beautiful body.

There were a few minutes where Asher and Professor Jackson evidently attended to other needs in silence. Bailey stayed where she was, naked and blindfolded on all fours in a bench in the men's locker room. It was the closest she had gotten and what seemed like forever to a moment of peace. And then her reverie was interrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“Well what's this here?” asked a voice which sound both husky and somewhat feeble: Bailey pictured a withered old man.

“This is Bailey and she belongs to me for the next year or three at least.”

“A girl then?” said the voice, “not a creature?”

“Not yet. I have at least a couple years to change that, and I plan on making her one well before. Or if not, I might have her killed, stuffed, and mounted. Although in fairness I've already had her stuffed and mounted.” Asher laughed at his own joke.

“You can do that?” asked the geriatric voice.

“Which part? Make her a creature, or kill and get her taxidermied if she refuses?”

“Either one is new to me, sonny.”

“Our contract is pretty clear that if I kill her deliberately or recklessly, I pay the standard actuarial penalties which could amount to millions. It's a steep sum, but I can afford it and it might be worthwhile. As for making her a creature, she's been pretty adamant that I won’t. But she was also adamant that I couldn't beat her at badminton twice.” Asher's certainty sent chills down Bailey's spine.

“I see,” said the man, “Well I can't say I know anything about all these newfangled laws: I don't think we had nothing like it when I was a young’un. But I can see she's a fine young minx. It’d be a shame to just kill a pretty little thing like that.” Bailey could not decide if it was better or worse that she could not see the clearly geriatric geezer who was so openly ogling her naked body.

“If I have her taxidermied, she’ll stay young and pretty forever.” The casual, cool way Asher said that froze Bailey in raw terror. How has she never seen this truly monstrous side of him before today, she wondered.

“That may be,” the old fellow ventured, “but you won't have none of the what's the word vivacity? vitality? whatever it is she has now. That spark of young life and feminine sexuality you only see of the females in prime mothering years.”

“Which is why my first choice would be to make her my absolute property, and I promise I would make good use of that mothering potential.”

And this was the other fate she needed to escape. The idea of bearing Asher a child or two he would take from her was horrifying: she could not decide if even the idea of being taxidermied by a frustrated Asher might not be better. But the idea of Asher owning Bailey and using her body to pump out his spawn to her body’s maximum potential, using her womb until it gave out or menopause stopped offering new eggs? That was clearly far worse than either of the two worst fates Asher might currently inflict on her, whatever Asher and Professor Jackson might say.

“Well,” said the man, “I wish you both luck I suppose.” The old man hesitated, and then shot his shot. “May I touch her? It's been three, maybe four, decades since I touched a girl this fine … and that wasn't a girl, it was a creature, and the experience left my cold.” 

“Mi cuerpa is tu cuerpa,” said Asher in badly-mangled Spanglish. Then, evidently to clarify. “Go ahead.”

“Can I … that is to say, where… ?” the man started uncertainly.

“Anywhere and any way you want,” said Asher in a voice that was disturbing genial to be licensing her sexual assault.

Bailey shuddered as hands first petted her gently and then begin groping and squeezing and fondling her all over. His hands were tremulous, and yet he squeezed her breasts and butt, pinched her nipples and genitals, with remarkable force, especially considering his apparent age. 

While the old man made free with Bailey’s body, Asher added insult to injury by striking up a deeply mortifying conversation with Professor Jackson. “Hey, I didn't ask how the blowjob was,” started Asher.

“Frankly, I think she was better in the other end,” said her former professor. Despite the fact that he had given her no choice in the matter, despite the fact that she had also preferred having his cock in her vagina over her mouth, Bailey still felt embarrassed even mortified at the idea that she had let him down so badly.

“Do you want one?” Asher asked. “Or you can fuck her in the ass if you want. I have lube and, if you want, condoms.” Bailey realized he was addressing the old fellow who currently had one hand buried inside her pussy while the other gently rubbed her clitoris between thumb and forefinger. It was a sensation that felt good—the old fellow was getting her warm and wet, and she hated the fact that her body was responding in this fashion to sexual attentions her brain did not desire.

“If you're offering, I'd rather just a good old-fashioned fuck,” said the old man with the talented fingers. “Feed the pussycat a sausage if you know what I mean?” Bailey wondered if it was the most grotesque analogy for sex she had ever heard or read only felt that way because it was proposed in relation to her body to a man who had the power to grant it, while one hand was inside her most intimate orifice and the other now seemed perilously close to getting her off.

“I'm afraid that's off the table,” said Asher “I'm keeping that hole for myself, but you're welcome to use either of the others.” Bailey wondered if the old man had heard Professor Jackson just talking about using that same hole. It was the kind of lie that was so embarrassing to be called in she always cringed vicariously to observe it. And then it struck her just how ludicrous it was to feel embarrassment on behalf of Asher for misrepresenting the ways he let others use her body.

“Well now that's still mighty generous of you, but let me think on it. Your friend there said she wasn't very good at sucking and I'm not a big fan of the backdoor. Mighty old-fashioned you might call me. Let me drain the snake and I'll see how he feels about it. Bailey was terrified Asher might offer to let the old man ‘drain his snake’ in her mouth. The relief she felt when he made no such offer was immediately followed and erased by a tsunami of shame for feeling a relief so intense it bordered on gratitude for Asher not letting a random old man piss in her mouth.

“OK well Bailey,” said Dr. Jackson, “while we're waiting to see if this gentleman here wants to borrow your mouth or asshole”—There was another word Bailey had never thought to hear Professor Jackson use, at least not in reference to the relevant body part—“why don't you use it tell Mr. Asher how he can best achieve his goals?”

Bailey shook her head, a new wave of shame mixed with guilt at letting down the man who had raped her so gently a few minutes before.

“You don't know? Or you don't want to say?”

“I don't even remember the question,” she said softly.

“Mr. Asher here has five matches upcoming with five of your lovely classmates. He is going to try to get them to sign contracts committing them to at least three games each, with the stake being a month vs $1150. If he wins any of the games, there is an automatic escalation of the stakes. First it’s best two out of three to a birth-adjusted year—really two or three years. Then if he wins that, it’s best three out of five to claim the termination of their personhood and full, unencumbered, lifetime ownership of the animal remains. You follow me so far, Bailey?”

“Yes,” said Bailey. That part was all too terrifyingly clear.

“Now, despite this, if they see how much he's improved on the first game, they might walk out and force him to pursue them in court. He could easily be looking at tens of thousands of dollars for each one, not to mention years of litigation and potential bad publicity. But there is a simple mechanism by which he can prevent all of this.”

Try as she might, Bailey genuinely could not see the answer.

“Pardon me,” said the voice of the geriatric ‘gentleman,’ “But I could not help overhearing. Could your friend here simply not declared that a refusal to complete the final matches at the appointed time constituted a forfeit.”

“Precisely so, my good man! Have you ever considered law school? I think you’d be a natural!” Bailey found herself consumed with jealousy at this stranger’s preemption of her question.

The voice chuckled slightly. “Perhaps half a century ago I should have. But I'm well and happily retired now.” He paused, and continued in a more serious tone: “Anyways I think I will take you up on the use of this young lady's mouth. But may I ask why she's blindfolded? I imagine she must have beautiful eyes.”

“She does indeed,” said Asher. “If you want we will show you afterwards outside. But we feel it would be a violation of privacy of the men who use this space to allow her to observe it.”

“A bit of a pity, but I trust, young lass, you will do the best you can. Now, would you kindly open your mouth so I can grace it with my manhood?”

As Bailey opened her mouth she considered how strange it was that this clearly elderly man, whose dick she should have found disgusting to suck, was so seemingly kind and gentle. And yet even he did not see her consent as necessary in this transaction, having taken Asher’s word for his right to control her body. Indeed he had aggressively felt her up not ten minutes before without considering how she might feel about that attention from a stranger she could not even see.

The man did not get fully erect and it took her seemingly an eternity before there was a burst of the mildly unpleasant warm gelatinous substance. He sighed in contentment, and she realized that neither Asher nor her professor had given her any clear indication of their own pleasure in the use of her body. Feeling a perverse flush of gratitude that overrode any disgust, she swallowed down the unpleasant substance.

She felt a hand patting her on the head. “She even swallows like a lady said the man. I want to thank you young man. In sharing this treasure with me you have made me feel two decades younger, at least for the moment.”

“They say you're only as old as the woman you're fucking,” said Professor Jackson.

“I certainly wouldn't go that far, but maybe if it was routine I would agree. Anyways I would love to see her lovely eyes.”

Asher pulled Bailey up, and this time he actually walked her out the door, steering her with his hand on her shoulder. He then untied her blindfold and as Bailey tried to see through the tears and blurriness of going from blindfolded to direct sunlight, she found herself staring at a man who looked far older and more decrepit than she would have imagined. His bald head was covered in liver spots and his face looked almost shrunken except for a nose that looked swollen. All over if he was covered with wrinkles and she would've estimated his age in the triple digits. Bailey shuddered slightly to realize that she had sucked this man off and ingested his seed.

“Indeed, said the man, stroking her head gently, you have such beautiful eyes. Thank you young lady for having such patience with an old man who struggles to get it up. I hate to think of you becoming a creature, but if you do decide to do so I know you will make a beautiful and valuable one.” The man ambled off. As Bailey was watching him go, Asher pulled the blindfold over her eyes once again.

Notes:

This seems like another good stopping point for the time. There is about a thousand words of the first draft before Asher takes Bailey home. That might seem like just a chapter and a short chapter at that, but I wrote the entire first draft as essentially a heavily annotated outline. Some sections of the first draft I more-or-less wrote completely, but those tended to be the dialogue-heavy parts.

The thousand words I have to get Bailey home has relatively little dialogue, but a lot I would like to elaborate. At the very least that chapter will be longer, and it's likely I will end up with three or four chapters, based on the three or four main beats of that chapter. That's at the point of being more writing than rewriting, and while I've done that for several of the recent chapters—including chapter 12 being completely new—at this point I'm getting a bit burnt out on Bailey, and I want to come back to the story when I'm excited about telling her story again.

Chapter 17: Putting the cream in "Bailey's Irish Cream"

Summary:

After discussing the feasibility of nasal sex if you cut out the victim's septum, Asher and Doctor Jackson agree to do a standing double penetration of Bailey before Asher drives Heron—and of course his new sex toy—back to his house. Bailey starts to suspect that Dr. Jackson might be a monster as well ... and what's worse, he might be less sophisticated than she'd always imagined.

Notes:

This chapter was where I was stuck for a bit because I wasn't sure how I wanted to rewrite it. It felt too short and abrupt as it was. The whole thing about nasal sex is an addition that stemmed from this rewrite which seems consistent with how I have depicted Asher. After this we have one chapter but I feel like it's written fine but basically it's not sexy and I wanna get rid of it but I don't want to put the energy into figuring out what the reader actually needs right now, three that I can post basically as they are, and then we get back into stuff I need to start writing again.

As the blindfold went over her eyes, Bailey finally pulled together the will to protest. “I thought that was for the men's room and I thought you were done with that! You did what you said you were going to do with me in there … and more.”

“It's my body, and I will do what I want with it,” said Asher. “I took the blindfold off because that old gentleman wanted to see your eyes. I will admit they are very pretty eyes, but I've already seen them. And now that I think about it…” Bailey felt the gag go over her mouth again. She had a moment of panic where she felt like she was suffocating before she realized her nose was unobstructed. “I suppose unless we have another unexpected visitor, we won't be needing your mouth for the rest of the day. I would like to thank you, Professor Jackson,” he added, “you have given me some truly invaluable advice.”

“You're welcome” said Professor Jackson, before adding: “for what?”

“You had a good point about her mouth. She's not very good at using it now is she?”

“That wasn't quite what I was trying to convey, said Dr. Jackson,” in the tone of gentle correction Bailey recognized all too well, that tone of kindly, confident authority, determined to lift you up through correction rather than bring you down, which had made Bailey—and half the girls in her class—fall in love with him. “Practice makes perfect, after all, and Bailey’s always struck me as a bright enough girl—I'm sure she will pick up the knack of it soon.”

“Still,” said Asher, “you’d agree that for now, she’s better in the cunt than the mouth.”

“For now, I would.”

“I think so too,” said Asher, “but there is still one hole on her you have yet to try.”

“One hole large enough to fit a penis into,” said Professor Jackson, “As a lawyer I find it important to be precise about these things.”

“I wonder…” mused Asher. He reached down and inserted his thumb and forefinger into her nostrils, pinching the wall of flesh and cartiledge that divided them. “Do you think that if I were to cut out the septum of the nose, that would make a fourth hole large enough to accommodate a human phallus?” Bailey squirmed as best she could with in her constraints. The day was not over and he had already found yet another horrifying way to potentially mutilate her body.

“Not my dick,” laughed Professor Jackson, “And not yours either, not with her tiny nose anyways. Yes, I looked, didn’t you?”

“Yeah,” laughed Asher, “I did. And you put me to shame, sir.”

“Well the upside of a more … economy-sized male member,” said Dr. Jackson, “is that I think there are some noses where you genuinely might get it in, if you took out the dividing wall first, of course.”

“Some noses… ?” Asher was sounding genuinely contemplative, and Bailey wondered if Dr. Jackson had any idea what horrors he was potentially inflicting on some other future victim. He must not know, right? Or he certainly would not be giving this monster ideas!

“Well, a lot of men to be sure. Women generally have smaller schnozes, but I think you might very well have a viable opening for at least the tip with Jackie or Suzanne.”

That’s Jacqueline Goldman and Suzanne Almeria, Bailey reminded herself. Her professor was literally telling this monster which of his students he might achieve nasal intercourse with if he just cut out an essential part of their noses! Either Dr. Jackson was completely clueless about the implications of what he was saying, or there was a bit of monster inside of her genial gentlemen professor as well. But then, surely no man as kindly as Dr. Jackson presented himself in class would have taken advantage of any woman sexually as he had with Bailey, much less a woman who have been his student scarce hours prior.

“Well, said Asher, I suppose it's all academic until I find a nose I might reasonably fit into, but Bailey here has one opening you still haven’t explored. “What do you say we try a standing double penetration: you can try the back door and I will take the main entrance.”

What the hell is wrong with this man, this monster? Bailey wondered, yet again? Not just his behavior, not just his fascination with torture, mutilation, and control, but also the weird fucking way he phrased things. In light of everything else he had put her through, it shouldn't be getting to her and yet somehow it was. Just say ‘man, you wanna fuck her in the ass while I take the cunt’, she thought angrily, be fucking honest about what you’re planning on doing to me.

“That sounds like a lovely idea,” said Dr. Jackson, as if Asher were proposing a pleasant excursion to the beach and not a brutal double rape of his only-very-recently-former student, “but you'll still have to give me a few minutes to get it back up.”

***

There were a few moments of silence then, before they were broken by a female voice. “There you are! It's a nice day in the park, but it's been almost an hour and we're ready to go.” Bailey recognized the voice at Heron’s—she was pretty sure of it anyways.

“Feel free to drive yourselves back to my place,” said Asher, “The good professor and I are going to do a quicky double penetration on this fine body and then I will join you. If you wish, you can join us as well,” he added, presumably to her professor.

“I'm afraid that I must decline, for I have prior commitments,” said the Professor, “but I feel just about ready to go. I think that if we get her in and I feel her up a bit I’ll be hot to trot.” As he said this, she felt a pair of hands squeeze her breasts and then work their way down to her thighs, then back up to her butt.

“I will wait for you out here then,” said Heron, “unless you want an audience. You know I don't like how Percy drives.”

“You could drive yourself you know,” said Asher, “if you get a license. You're welcome to watch if you want, and Mr. Jackson doesn’t object. I wouldn't consider you an audience.” Bailey realized that she had just told this other, presumably fully-clothed, woman that she was welcome to come into the men's room, but just unblindfolded, but with the express purposed of watching them fuck her. Publicly fuck her while she was blindfolded supposedly with the aim of preserving the privacy of any men who entered the restroom. She flushed with a mixture of anger and humiliation.

“You know I don't swing that way, and it's not hot,” said Heron, “well, not unless the two of you are fucking each other.” Was it Bailey’s imagination, or did the obvious lesbian sounded a little thirsty at that idea?”

“It's mighty close with double penetration,” said Asher, “our balls might even touch.”

“Still not gay enough,” said Heron, “But you two studs have fun now. You should try too, Bailey,” she added. “Time flies faster when you enjoy things, and you've got a year ahead of you where you don't need to plan anything or worry about the day-to-day.”

With that, Bailey was led back into the locker room, where some discussion her former professor and current owner—she shuddered at that word, but it was what he was—decided it actually made sense to have her kneel on the bench.

“Oh,” said Professor Jackson, “I don’t suppose you have lube, do you?”

“I don’t,” said Asher, “but Heron might. I’ll wait if you want to ask her.”

Bailey heard a shuffling and then a man, presumably professor Jackson walking out of the men's room. The hard bench became increasingly painful on her shins, and yet of course she knew what would come at the end of her wait, which made things worse.

“Man,” said Professor Jackson, as he returned to the locker room, “have you seen inside that woman’s purse? I think she might even have a kitchen sink in there somewhere.”

“Yeah,” said Asher, “it’s like the TARDIS in there. Anyways, give me a nod when you're ready.”

A few moments later, Bailey felt a pair of hands grip her shoulders and a presumed penis penetrate her vagina while the flab of a massive belly pushed up against her. This was followed by the uncomfortable, almost painful penetration in her butt. The two men asked each other how close they were and seemed almost to synchronize their completion and withdrawals together.

“Well that's the best way I've spent an hour in a long time,” said her professor. “I think I haven't had so much fun since I took that mixology course—although I guess you could say that today we prepared a nice shot of Bailey's Irish cream.” Bailey had, unfortunately, heard that one before, and on more than one occasion. She cringed to hear it now from her brilliant, charming professor.

“Are you Irish, Dr. Jackson?” asked Asher.

“Family goes back in America before the Revolution although I'm told ‘Jackson’ is an Ulster name. I was just thinking you know, Bailey’s had and seven shots of cream in her today. Actually nine, if you count your solo contributions on the court. Hey, you look kind of Irish though.”

“I get that a lot” said the fat man. “Although I don't really get it. Lots of gingers in America, and usually real Irishman aren’t quite this … well-rounded.”

“You dress a bit transatlantic” said Dr. Jackson. “Anyways, it was a pleasure meeting you, I do hope our paths will cross again. Here is my card if you need me. And do you have a pen? Thanks.” There was a pause as he presumably wrote something down. “Here's my personal cell number, though I keep it off during class, office hours, and after eight. And if you acquire any of the others we discussed …”

“I'll definitely keep you in the loop,” said Asher.

“Especially with Cassidy,” said her professor and suddenly Bailey realized that he was asking Asher to let him do the same thing to her classmates should they cease being his student and become Asher’s property as well. “And let me know if you have trouble with Farrin, she can be wily but I think I know how to overcome it.” Her professor, so seemingly perfect, was offering Asher his help in doing to Farrin the same as he’d done to Bailey.

The man really was a monster. And yet Bailey still had a fucking crush on him. Even after hearing that, even after everything he had done, even after the cross, nonsensical, extremely stupid ‘Irish cream’ crack. And why did that bother her so much?

Bailey had just been raped nine times in barely over an hour by three different men, multiply violated in every fuckable orifice, all the while they blindfolded her on the pretense of preserving the privacy of men who might happen stumble upon her naked, helpless body being fucked. She had been created around naked and groped and fondled and made to stand against the wall on her tiptoes. Her legal chops had been called into question in front of her professor by a random old man. When Asher had found it inconvenient for her to speak he had gagged her. She had learned that Asher had a good chance of putting five of her classmates in as bad position as her or worse, and that here amazing dream professor was willing, even eager to help him do it?

After all that, why the hell was it that the thing which seemed to upset her most right now was her seemingly smart, sophisticated professor making the obvious and yet nonsensical extremely stupid—not to mention crass—Bailey’s Irish cream “joke”? Why was it that her inability to meet that obnoxious fucking crack with a stubbornly uncomprehending stare, followed by an explanation she would meet with an eyeroll and groan felt like the ultimate expression of her sudden and nearly complete loss of power over her own life?

Chapter 18: Bringing home the Bailey

Summary:

Heron pets Bailey and chats with Asher on the car-ride home.

Kind of heavy on expedition and filler, see notes for more detail on why I still included it, and feel free to skip it.

Notes:

This chapter is honestly kind of exposition and filler. It's the kind of chapter I would try to avoid writing today, and I'm including it because I already wrote it and I don't want to aggressively edit down stuff that I covered elsewhere or will cover elsewhere later, but I'm worried that I might have important stuff here that would lead to confusion later if I just left it out. So feel free to skip it. At some point possibly I will have the energy to edit it down and combine it with the next chapter, but for now I wanna get to the next chunk of stuff I have written, where stuff starts to get good again.

On the drive back to Asher’s place, Heron had pulled the front seat all the way back and taken Bailey into her lap. The seatbelt protected Heron but not Bailey although Bailey presumed that was the least of her worries. Throughout the ride, Heron seemed to fondle her absentmindedly in a variety of gentle patterns. Bailey realized she had never realized she had erogenous zones in places like her belly or her armpits until Heron somehow found and activated them. And when Heron rubbed Bailey's scalp and scratched behind her ear, she wanted to purr. All of this, Heron did seemingly absentmindedly as she talked with Asher.

Bailey turned most of it out, trying to drive with pleasure she could from the moment until she felt Heron stiffen slightly. “Why not?” Heron asked.

“When we get her home and across the threshold you can take them off if you want.”

Take what off? Bailey wondered. Wait, he said when we get her home, was this conversation about her? But he had very pointedly made sure she was wearing nothing. Except…

“But does she really need to be gagged and blindfolded for this car ride?”

Bailey had gotten so used to the gag and blindfold in such a short span of time, she had momentarily forgotten she was wearing them.

“For now she's insisting on being a person. That means she can still talk, but there is nothing I need to hear from her except ‘I'm ready to give you my life and possession of my animal remains.’ The rest is just pointless blather.”

“OK but like she'll probably stay quiet if you tell her to. In fact, at this point, I bet she’ll remain quiet until you command her to speak up.”

“She already blurted out some gibberish once without being asked,” said Asher, and Bailey found herself straining to remember what she had said unsolicited that he took objection to. As if whatever she had said was a reflection on her feelings and not his. “I have a shock collar at home,” he continued. “It's too bulky to fit in my routine bag and I didn't think to bring it. I mean, I wasn't expecting to win, much less a stress-adjusted reproduction year.”

From this, Bailey confirmed that he really had not expected to win the first round, that he himself appeared to think his first victory was a fluke. But his second victory had made him both greedy and confident. Perhaps tonight, if she could get a good night’s sleep, if she caught him in a good mood, she could agree to a rematch tomorrow morning. And thi time, she would win. Hopefully, she could even free herself in time to warn her classmates, before they signed anything.

Bailey tried to remember who Asher said he had matches with. He already had Hannah although if she saw her at his house, she might be able to get her a warning. Cassidy and Farrin were unforgettable, thanks to Dr. Jackson had expressed interest in Cassidy and promising intel on Farrin. Two of them were names she hadn't recognized. She would have to commit them to memory to be sure. And there was another she knew, not very well… Roxanne?

“OK,” continued Heron. “So I get the gag … I guess, but why the blindfold?”

“Well if she's insisting on being a person, she's still a stranger to me…”

A stranger!? His dick had been inside every orifice in Bailey’s body it would fit in, most of them twice! But why did she find that idea so offensive anyways? Why the hell did she care about dumb shit like that, at a time like this. Suzanne! Suzanne Goldman! That was the third of the girls she knew. She would need to listen carefully for the names of the other two, in case they came up again.

Asher continued. “… and I don't like strangers knowing where I live.”

“But you don't live there,” protested Heron. “It’s a rental! And you have her for at least a year. We weren't even planning on staying to the end of next month!”

That was interesting, maybe? Was it something she could use? Asher was staying in a place with at least some of his friends and that suggested they didn't live in the area. She had never asked. Bailey realized why she had found the suggestion she was a stranger so offensive. He had asked her so many questions about herself and talked about himself so much that it felt like she knew him and he knew her. He had asked her a lot about her life and ambitions although never too personally. But when it came to his life, Asher was a series of assorted facts. When she thought about the fact she recalled, Bailey realized they seemed almost curated to paint a picture.

The picture Asher had painted of himself was that of a harmless if somewhat off-color eccentric, kind and gentle but also unwavering. And scrupulously honest. If he was guarding himself around her now, he was doing a good job of hiding it, and all she had heard from him confirmed that part of the picture. The part about being an off-color eccentric seemed accurate as well. But he clearly wasn't harmless, nor was he kind and gentle. He was clearly stubborn, and that can look like an unwavering commitment to principles in a better human being.

“All the same,” said Asher, “I don't like strangers knowing where I'm staying.”

“You have no enemies Ash, everybody likes you or barely notices you. Well, OK, you might’ve made an enemy of this one.” Heron slapped Bailey gently on the tit. “But what do you think she might do to you, even if you decided to let her go tomorrow? Not that I’m suggested you’d ever give up something so valuable for free,” she added hastily.

There was a pregnant pause before Asher said simply: “You can remove the blindfold when she's in the door.”

Suddenly Bailey felt a wave of dread. Was he planning on trafficking her? Take away her voice for good, fake her legal death, and forge an agreement giving himself ownership of her animal remains? Was that the plan? Heron was his friend but she seemed at least a little bit in Bailey's corner, or at least Bailey hoped she did. It didn't seem like she would stand for that sort of thing. But then she’d had no idea what kind of man Dr. Jackson was before today. Nor Asher, for that matter. But Heron was another woman and seemed sympathetic to Bailey at least in that respect. And at least so far, Asher had always been meticulously honest. But that was before he had her naked and gagged and in the lap of his friend as he drove her blindfolded to an unknown location.

The conversation between Asher and Heron went back to subjects Bailey could make nothing of. Heron went back to gently fondling her body. Eventually she felt the car pull up. She heard the door on the driver side open and slam, while Heron opened the passenger side door more gently. She felt the seatbelt slide up past her back and realized Heron had unbuckled. She now proceeded to lift and turn Bailey under her knees and slide her over her own knee. Heron’s hands ran along Bailey's side as she dropped her gently to the ground, the unpleasant sensation of gravel hitting her bare feet.

Heron gently pushed Bailey back towards the rear door so that she could get out herself. Then, after closing the door, Heron took her hand and led her slowly up the driveway. The walk seemed long and the gravel was mildly painful. A long gravel driveway suggested a secluded rural area, exactly the kind of place Bailey imagined one might run a human trafficking operation out of. Pictures of Bailey and her classmates naked and being sold as nothing but their animal remains ran through her head although two of the girls she pictured or generic. And why was one of them a frog?

Kermit! One of the girls she didn't know was named ‘Kermit,’ although Bailey couldn't remember if it was her first or last or even middle name. Could you give a girl the first name ‘Kermit’? Or was that a nickname Jane ‘Kermit’ Doe? Regardless, it was memorable. If Bailey could escape her contract in time she should be able to warn four of her classmates. Even if she didn't get the name of the last one, knowing the other four there was a good chance someone would know who the last girl with a match with him was.

Bailey’s mind raced as she wondered if she should run away. Asher seemed confident that he would convert her to a creature, which suggested a rigged game and/or human trafficking. But even if he agreed to a fair game and she won, would he wait until after the other games to set her free? Would he put some condition on it that would prohibit her telling her classmates. A diabolical option would be to set her free with the understanding that telling her classmates was the consideration she gave her an exchange for her agreeing to liquidate herself and give him her animal remains. Asher did not seem creative enough to think of that, but one of his friends might be, and Dr. Jackson certainly was.

If she ran away from him, at worst the legal consequences would be that she would have to make it up to Asher with more of the same. Possibly a court could order treble damages. If she ran off at the start of the year, that would mean three years of her life serving Asher and letting him use her body as a plaything. The idea was hard to bear but morally it would be worth it even if she just saved five of her classmates from the same fate. But three years was the worst case scenario for her. The worst-case scenario for her classmates is that all five of them came out of their matches legally dead, their animal remains his possessions.

And perhaps if she held out long enough, she could find a way to drop off the radar for a time, even eventually escape to the country without extradition to the US. Unlikely but possible. Bailey knew what she would have to do, and that was escape.

Almost as soon as that conclusion had solidified she heard the voice of Heron: “Careful now, there's steps.”

Chapter 19: It's not "rape" if there's a contract

Summary:

After initially feeling sympathetic and solicitous of Bailey's well-being, Heron spends an entire chapter explaining the Bailey that, legally and morally speaking, it's not rape if your dumb ass signed a contract allowing it. She seems completely incapable of understanding Bailey's perspective on the issue.

CW: Heavy gaslighting

Notes:

There's no sex stuff here, just a whole lot of gaslighting. I find gaslighting like this incredibly hot in stories, but if you are finding that it's uncomfortable or even just boring, feel free to skip to the next chapter.

Now attentive to every detail of her surroundings, Bailey had been expecting wooden steps, like a farmhouse. These felt like stone, maybe brick. She stumbled a bit on the top one and Heron ushered her over the threshold. Almost as soon as she heard the door shut, hair and removed the blindfold from her eyes and Bailey blinked trying to adjust her vision to the brightly-lit foyer. She could see that there was an open plan to a sunroom after one side and a staircase in front of her, while another door seemed to lead into a kitchen. A hallway promised several rooms. The decor was … tacky. Lots of kinds of tchotchkes grandmothers by at quaint country stores with “barn” in the name.

“Can I take the gag off too?” called Heron. “I would like to talk with her. Privately if possible.”

“Talk… sure.” Asher seemed to bellow rather than shout and Bailey could hear the sarcasm in both words. However she was perplexed as to what he was being snarky about.”

“No really Ash, I like the chicks eating me out to enjoy it!”

Right. Asher saw Bailey as a glorified sex toy and Heron had described herself as gay. She wasn't sure if the embarrassment that flush through her was for herself at the thought of being used that way or on behalf of Heron for the assumption that was her intention.

“I'm looking for the shock collar remote,” called Asher with a sounded more like a grunt this time. “I want to put it on before you take the gag off, it has some other cool features as well, but I'll give you the remote to disable it, if what you really want is just to talk. Either way, it won't interfere with her using her mouth quietly for other things.”

Heron gave Bailey a strange look and shrugged. Then it seemed a thought occurred to her. “Have you ever eaten a woman out before?”

Bailey shook her head.

“She has no experience anyways Ash! She'd be absolute crap at it!” Bailey blushed again and wondered why she was embarrassed by this objectively true assessment.

“It seems like she had precious little experience sucking dick either. That just means she's teachable with no bad habits.” Asher was speaking at a more normal volume as he emerged from the kitchen with a collar. He clamped it around her neck. At the same time he did that, Bailey felt Heron’s hands in her hair, untying the gag. She rushed it so much she pulled a few hairs in the process. When she had finished, Asher handed her a remote.

“I don't wanna hear another word out of her, unless it's about how she's ready to except liquidation and give me her animal remains for a reasonable consideration. Whether you want to fuck her or not, take her up to one of the bedrooms. Actually, if you do wanna fuck her, feel free to do it in the living room if you want. You know Lenny would love to watch and probably Percy and Lacey too.” Then he put his hands under Bailey's chin and locked his eyes directly onto hers. “You have a beautiful voice you know, which doesn't mean I need you to use it for anything. Fun fact though: the operation that destroys the productive language centers barely affects the ability to sing. I don't know if you can sing now, but once you’re my property, I will train you.”

Aside from the sudden terror of his gaze and the insistence that he would make her his creature, Bailey noted the use of “you.” She was sure that there had to be a continuity of identity between the legal persons extinguished without death and the animal remains that resulted. And yet people were scrupulous about observing the legal fiction that there was a discontinuity between a person on one hand and a dumb ape on the other. She could not recall anyone except creature rights activists assuming the continuity so boldly. And she wondered if that was proof that he meant to fake the conversion without going through with it.

If you fake a legal death and forge documents of ownership, what would happen if it could be proved to the courts? The operation that destroyed the productive language centers was irreversible. This meant that the person who had existed would never exist again in the same form and could never be a productive member of society in the same fashion. Creatures are essentially fungible while persons are considered unique, which would argue for a restoration of status. But that assumed that it was the legal process that made a person a creature and not the ritual of the neurosurgery that went with it. And either way, any remedy required on first proving that the documents were fake. That would be difficult to argue if one language centers were destroyed.

***

Asher stalked off to do whatever... Heron led Bailey up a flight of stairs and down the hall a bit to a corner bedroom. She closed the door and pulled the blinds. Bailey tried to get a look out the windows without being too obvious. She saw enough to realize that they were and what looked to be a suburban neighborhood. So what was with the gravel? And the long walk?

There was a armchair in the corner which Heron first almost flung herself into and then rearranged herself so that her back extended over the armrest, along with one of her legs. The other leg pulled a footstool up to the chair. “Come here,” she said. “I've disabled the collar. Or rather I've disarmed it for an hour. It seems like Asher chose a model it's not possible to disarm permanently. We will have to remember to press it again before it gives you a shock.”

Bailey slowly walked over to the chair and looked at askance as to what she should do with her body. Heron gave her no indication and she stood awkwardly standing, looking down into eyes that didn't quite seem to meet hers. The difference in elevation which might in other contexts have been one of dominance reminded her of period dramas in which servants must stand to attention. Except servants in those dramas at least had uniforms. Standing with her most intimate areas at about a level with Heron's reclined head, her own bare breasts looming above her, it felt as if she was presenting every detail of what she had always thought of as her ‘private parts’ for the woman's inspection.

“How are you doing?” Heron asked.

Bailey broke down into tears.

“Tissues are over there,” said Heron. “Bring me the box.”

Bailey obeyed and handed the box over to her, resuming the awkward posture of attention. Heron handed her a single tissue and when she stopped dabbing her eyes, held out her hands to take it. She wadded it up and stuck it back in the tissue box. One of Bailey's friends had had a younger brother who did that same thing with what she hoped was just snot. It was an utterly repulsive habit and despite the fact that it was just tears, she shuddered a little.

“Sorry, I realized that was a stupid question. What I meant is: how are you doing in coping with your new circumstances?”

“I don't know if I can!” Bailey sobbed, starting to tear up again. Heron’s hand seemed to move for another tissue and then change its mind.

“I mean you'll have to and you will,” said Heron. “But what specifically is feeling overwhelming right now?”

“I was just raped nine times by three different men today. All in the course of an hour an a half!”

The expression on Heron’s face seemed to harden a little bit, as did her tone when she spoke. “I'm sorry you are finding the sexual aspect of this different, but please remember that rape is a serious thing. I work with victims of rape, and I would ask you not to trivialize it by using the term so loosely.”

Bailey understood that she was now treading on dangerous ground, but still could not for the life of her see how or why.

“Today, I had two different penises in both my pussy and my butt. I had three different penises in my mouth and they made me do things with my tongue until they produced a gross substance. Well two of them did. Then I had to swallow that substance.”

“OK so you had at least two rounds of butt sex, two rounds of breeder sex, and you blew three guys and swallowed their cum. Sounds like a normal college party for some girls I know. Even more for some guys I know, if you account for the fact they don't have lady bits.”

“But it's not normal for me! I've only ever had sex with my boyfriend and I only blew a boy once. And I never did butt stuff before!”

“Well it sounds like you had some good practice, because I imagine you'll be doing a lot more of that.”

“But I don't want to! I didn't want to then!”

“Lots of us do things we don't want to do, honey.”

“But you worked, you said, with rape survivors and it's a … you know it's a serious thing.”

“Rape is a serious thing. For some women it can give them issues around their sense of safety and bodily autonomy and even sounds they associate with the rape for the rest of their lives. And that's precisely why I don't support trivializing it by comparing it to unpleasant sexual experiences.”

“So you don't think what happened to me was rape?”

“Wait.” Heron’s voice has gone completely flat. “You weren't being hyperbolic? You really think your experience today was actual literal rape?”

“I… yes?” She squeaked out what she knew to be the wrong answer as a question.

“So you think Asher is a rapist and I am friends with a rapist?”

“I… I don't know you. I mean maybe he doesn't see it as rape,” Bailey protested, even though it was self evident to her that he found it hot precisely because he understood she didn't want it.

“Because it's not rape. I would never be friends with a rapist.” Heron’s eyes were intense, her voice was emphatic.

“OK but, I didn't consent!”

“Did you sign a form betting $1200 against a month in which he could do anything to you that didn't cause permanent damage?”

“I… yes. But you just said rape can cause permanent damage!”

“It can. It does. But those agreements are never about emotional damage. And also… You. Weren’t. Raped.”

“ok.” Bailey's voice was small as she realized this was a topic she had better drop. The fact that Heron was a woman and had shown a genuine concern for her concealed some vital gap in understanding she still was not grasping.

“OK?” Heron's voice made it clear that trying to drop it was also the wrong thing to do. “This is important and I need to make sure you understand. You made a factually false allegation based on your emotional responses to sex that didn't go as you wanted it to. It’s an allegation which has the potential to harm the reputations of both Asher and myself. Worse still, whenever a woman has consensual sex she regrets and calls it ‘rape,’ it undermines the credibility of women everywhere. I need to make sure that you actually understand the difference between consensual sex you don't enjoy and rape.”

Bailey looked at the ground. Part of her thundered defiance. It was absolutely, factually rape, whatever the law might say. She knew that Heron was the closest she had to an ally right now, and she needed to get her on her side. But she also felt like she needed Heron to understand that it really was raped and that it was having the same effects on her as the women she worked with. The silence seemed to stretch as she did battle with herself over what to say. Finally: “I understand legally speakin what Asher did and let two other men do doesn't constitute rape.”

“Good,” Heron snorted. “If you're gonna be a lawyer, I would expect you to understand the law.” She stared at Bailey, challenging her to continue.

Against her own better judgment, Bailey did. “I'm not even a law student … not yet anyways, just taking a law class, but… Do you think marital rape … was a thing … before we had laws against it?”

“Jesus Christ! How the fuck did you get into law school!?”

“I’m sorry,” Bailey whimpered. “And I didn’t. I’m still an undergrad.”

“I'm sorry too, that was a little harsh. Maybe you can't help being dense.”

I'm not dense! Bailey wanted to shout. I graduated top 10% of my high school, and I’m still top quartile in college! However, here, discretion won out.

Heron continued. “They are supposed to teach you critical thinking in law school … or even college … at least they used to. So think critically and tell me the difference between marital rape and the not-so-fun sex you're calling rape.”

There was clearly a right answer Heron wanted to hear. And for the life of her, Bailey could not see the difference.

“Do you need a lifeline?”

Bailey looked at Heron in confusion.

“Do you want to phone a friend and see if they can figure it out?”

Bailey’s heart leapt. Here was an opportunity to warn one of her classmates. Perhaps she could get it all out or find some way to sneak it in. But she also did not want to seem suspiciously eager. “OK,” she said, slightly sullenly.

“Who should we call?” the woman asked.

Farrin! Dr. Jackson had indicated he thought she might be smart enough to see through whatever this scam Asher was running was. Plus Bailey was closer to her than any of the others. Maybe she could give her hints that would fly past Heron. “Farrin Rogers.”

Chapter 20: Phone a Friend

Summary:

Bailey has a plan to call Farrin Rogers and hopefully save at least her five classmates, if not herself. Unfortunately, Heron also has a plan, one not fully in line with Bailey's objectives, and she's determined to make Bailey see things her way.

CW: More gaslighting, but not to the degree of the previous chapter. If you don't like that part, you can skip to the second section, which is more straightforward conventionally 'spicy.'

Heron pulled out Bailey's phone. “Passcode?”

Bailey's heart leapt again. She had assumed they had left her belongings or disposed of them but if she could get to her phone… “If you give it to me, I can put it in.”

“No. I'm changing it.”

Barely wanted to argue knew it would be futile. And this was a chance to reach and warn Farrin. She gave Heron her passcode. When Heron identified it as the number is associated with a code from a children's series even Bailey now found cringe, she realized yet another way it was somehow possible to feel more naked then simple nudity. Her heart sank as Heron changed the passcode to her own face. Why hadn't she used Bailey’s face, at least?

Finally she heard a ringing that got louder. “I'm putting it on speakerphone,” said Heron.

“Farrin Rogers …” said Farrin’s voice. “… can't come to the phone right now” said a robot voice.

“Different friend?” asked Heron.

“Text her! Say Bailey wants to talk! She doesn't usually pick up phone calls!” to Bailey's ears, her desperation showed through. Possibly to Heron as well, who narrowed her eyes slightly.

“No. Different friend?”

Who else was there? “Cassidy! Cassidy Jones!”

“I don't see her in here.”

“You can get her number on her socials.”

“If she's not in your phone, she's clearly not a friend. Class smart kid?”

Despite herself, Bailey smiled a bit. The idea that anyone would consider Cassidy ‘the smart kid’ was legitimately funny. Class loudmouth or class troublemaker, on the other hand …

Fortunately, or unfortunately? Heron misinterpreted her smile. “Thought so.”

There was a pause which Bailey realized was meant for her to name an actual friend. Suzanne definitely would not be in her phone, nor would this ‘Kermit’ girl. Her best bet was … “Rachel. She's in my phone as ‘Roomie.’”

More dialing followed by. “We're sorry… the owner of this number can't come to the phone right now. Please—” Heron hung up.

“Anyone you know who might actually answer?”

“Jared! He's my study buddy and always quick to pick up the phone!”

Heron gave her another strange look. “Last name?”

“Uhh… Brown, I think?”

She heard his voice before the phone finished third ring. “Hey Bailbond…”

Bailey tried to respond and felt an electric shock course through her entire body. Had it really been an hour already, or had Heron quietly re-armed the collar.

“Is this Jared Brown?” The voice Heron put on was a passable imitation of a male TV presenter.

“I'm sorry this is Jared Bernstein. I thought this was Bailey.”

“Bailey LaFarge is taking part in a secret competition. We tried to reach her friend Farrin and her roommate first, but neither picked up. If either of them asks you about it, please do not tell them about the secret competition. Bailey is under NDA and will be free to talk about it after the show airs.”

“Show?”

“Bailey is taking part in a very special game show. She was especially recruited by one of our scouts.”

Bailey realized that while she still had not caught Asher in a lie, Heron was an accomplished confabulator. Suddenly, she realized that there was no way she could trust this woman. As if the rape conversation hadn’t been a dead giveaway, but then, she’d seemed so sincere.

“I heard she was playing badminton with some guy. Is he the scout?”

“I'm afraid I can neither confirm nor deny any information about our personel, but Miss LaFarge chose you for her phone-a-friend question. Well after Farrin Rogers and her roommate. I understand that you are a law student?”

“Well, we’re all students in a law class. And I’m pre-law. Bailey and I study together.”

“OK this question is not a legal question but it is a logical question where I think legal training may come in helpful.”

“What's the question?”

“First I need to ask your awareness of some background knowledge. I can't assume. You are aware that sometimes people sell contracts to the usufruct of their body for a fixed period of time.”

“I've heard of those.”

“You are aware this is different from selling the rights to liquidate them and collect their animal remains in that they remain legally people and are free again at the end of the term of the contract?”

“Yes.”

“OK good. Bailey knows the difference between these two things, but the next one stumped her. What is the practical, not legal difference between sexual intercourse with a body acquired on a limited duration usufruct contracts and marital rape?”

“Uhh… I mean the wife or whoever in a marital rape still owns her own body. But basically someone else owns the body during one of those usufruct contracts.”

“Mr. Bernstein, that is the legal distinction. I specifically asked you for the practical difference.” Bailey noticed that Heron’s voice had slipped from male TV announcer to matron. She wondered if it was a mistake and if Jared would notice.

“Oh, sorry. Uhh, can I try again?”

“Please.”

“Well, uhh… I mean one thing is that back when marital rape was legal, it was almost unavoidable for women to get married and they generally had no idea what they were getting into. Whereas with those contracts, I mean most women never even consider entering into one and anyone who does knows that sex on demand is very much an expected part of the agreement, if not the whole point.”

“That is correct Mr. Bernstein. Thank you very much. And it looks like Bailey is going to do something very special to thank you personally later. Any idea what that might be?”

“No...”

“I guess it will be a surprise then. I hope it's a pleasant one.” Heron hung up the phone, and turned to Bailey. “Please, in your own words explain to me why your choice to engage in sexual acts you are now regretting is not the same thing as rape.”

Bailey pointed to her collar.

“Yes, I already disarmed it again. I rearmed it for the call because I saw how desperate you were to talk to this Farrin lady. You can explain to me exactly what you were hoping to accomplish with that later. For now, please focus on the question I asked you.

***

When Bailey had finished explaining why she wasn't actually raped those nine times three men had penetrated against her will—a process that was dramatically lengthened by Bailey's importune decision to bring up the concept of ongoing and revocable consent—Heron took a long look at her. “Study buddy, eh?”

Bailey nodded.

“Is that all he is?”

Bailey nodded again aggressively. She picked up the insinuation and didn't like it but feared to verbally contradict Heron.

“Well he clearly wants more, and we did promise him a personal ‘thank you.’ But first I need to do something about that collar. Fortunately, I always travel prepared for any climate.” She pulled herself out of her chair and pulled a suitcase out of the closet. From the suitcase she produced a scarf in a medley of fall colors and wrapped it around Bailey's neck in such a fashion as to conceal the collar. She then stepped back to examine her work. “Hmm, looks a bit sus, TBH.” She went back to her suitcase and produced a hat a pom-pom and earflaps. She pulled Bailey's hair into a bun and then pulled the hat down tightly over her head. “That's better then, you look cute.”

Bailey was not sure if she was supposed to respond to that or not.

“You really are cute. Please understand that it's not that I have an objection to fucking you in principle. It's just that you seem almost painfully straight and it's hard to teach straight chicks proper form for taco-eating. But you are a genuine pleasure to look at and touch. Whether it's as Asher's property or some other guy's husband, someday some man is going to get very lucky in having you. But for now, please recline on the bed, and hold your hand out.”

Bailey complied even as she realized that Heron’s plan was to send nude—well nude except for a scarf—“selfies” to Jared. In fact, for this pose and several others, Herron put the phone in Bailey's hand and her own hand over Bailey's to operate it. After each photo, set she took the phone back and examined the pictures. After about a dozen poses she seemed satisfied. She went back to the closet and came out with a tripod.

“OK now I'm going to set this up to record video and I need you to pleasure yourself like a porn star. Do you know how to do that?”

Bailey shook her head.

“Do you know how to masturbate?”

“I… I'm not really comfortable doing that.”

“Now? Or ever?”

“Ever.”

“Well the good news is, based on what Asher has told me, there will be no point in learning. You'll get a chance to focus that energy on making other people happy. And one of those skills is faking orgasm good enough for most straight dudes. So I want you to rub your clitoris while you still have it, and put your hand in your cunt and moan exactly two things: ‘Oh Jared!’ and ‘Thank you, Jared!’ You got that?”

Bailey nodded.

“The video isn't live, but I still have some fun punishment ideas if you try anything cute. Now I want you to demonstrate with your best pornstar moans.”

“Oh Jared. Thank you Jared.”

“No, moan it!”

Bailey tried again.

“No, like this.” Heron demonstrated, but it took several rounds of back-and-forth before she was happy with Bailey's rendition. They then did four takes on the fake masturbation act before Heron declared it “good enough to fool a straight simp.”

“You did good today,” said Heron. “I'm going to give you a treat.” Heron took Bailey's clitoris in her fingers and proceeded to rub it in ways that caused her to moan for real. Bailey was torn between pleasure and an intense feeling of violation. Then, abruptly Heron stopped. “Have you ever had an orgasm she asked her?”

“I don't know,” said Bailey.

“Believe me, you’d know. Far be it from me to break your streak, then.”

Bailey found herself awash with guilt and disappointment but also a sense of lingering … excitement?

“OK. I need to put together some stuff for the evening’s entertainment.” Heron took Bailey by the hand and led her to the top of the stairs. “Asher!!!” she hollered.

“What!”

“Come get your toy! I'm done with her for now!”

Chapter 21: An ornament to any parlour room

Summary:

Bailey keeps trying to cover herself, which Asher sees as both natural and undesirable. Fortunately for him, unfortunately for Bailey, he has definite thoughts on how to train her out of it.

Notes:

The tree in this chapter is a Norfolk pine. If you've ever had one or just examined one when the grocery stores all sell them at Christmas, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. Bailey, however, is not much of a plant person.

Also, rereading this chapter I'm realizing that Asher's four friends are basically the Scooby Doo gang. Heron is Velma, Percy is Fred, Lacey is Daphne, and Lenny is Shaggy. Asher himself, however, doesn't really seem like the proper Scooby Doo type, although he has made Bailey his bitch.

Asher stomped out of the living room and stood at the base of the stairs. Herron tossed him the remote to the electroshock collar around Bailey’s neck. He came nowhere near catching it, as it skittered under the base of a plant holder.

“Great catch,” she told him, deadpan.

“I've been practicing badminton, not catch!” he protested.

“And it shows.” Then she turned to Bailey. “Your master awaits. Do you know how to slide down a banister sidesaddle?”

Bailey shook her head.

“Just walk down the stairs then. Quick as you can.” As Bailey proceeded down the stairs with the minimum speed she felt she could get away with, she heard Heron’s voice call after her. “Asher! We should think about training this one and the other ones to slide down the banisters like proper little ladies.”

“You want to waste your time doing that, you go right ahead!” Asher called. “I have better use of my time!”

“Like learning how not to catch!” Heron shot back.

As Bailey reached the bottom of the stairs she turned to look and see if she was still there, but Asher was already grabbing her. He once again tied her arms above her head and that our familiar position. Why do you keep doing that? she tried to ask him. A jolt reminded her of the presence of the shock collar.

“Because I've seen what women do when they're not used to being naked.” Asher answered, as if reading her mind. He looked her right in the eyes. “Almost universally they automatically seek to cover themselves. And in the few exceptions they tend to clasp their hands in front of them, still concealing the best parts, even if inadvertently” Bailey stared at him incredulously. “You opened your mouth and yelped at the collar. You were obviously trying to ask a stupid question and that's the obvious stupid question to ask.”

OK but why not just tie her hands behind her back? That was what the cops did.

“In response to the obvious stupid follow-up: I think the aesthetic form is better this way, especially when you take away the hair here.” He ran his fingers along her armpit in the way that tickled and her belly shook as she tried to avoid an audible laugh. “That's another benefit: the armpits are highly sensitive, and I like leaving sensitive areas exposed.” He rubbed her armpit hair between his fingers, and Bailey found herself regretting the months since she’d last shaved. But why did she care what Asher and some complete strangers out about the state of her armpits?

“Don't worry,” he said. “By tomorrow afternoon, this hair won't even be here. Nor here.” He reached his hands between her legs to tug at her pubic hair and she clinched them together instinctively. “That's something we will have to work on,” he said. “As much as possible, you should make the effort to keep all of your sensitive areas freely accessible even when I don't specifically tell you to. There are things I can do to keep you from closing those legs completely, but all of them are either unaesthetic or limit posture variety. Come along with me to the living room and I will demonstrate.”

Asher put his hand on Bailey's butt and lightly cupped her ass cheek as he ushered her into the living room. The living room contained a couch and two arm chairs. A man occupied one of the arm chairs while a man and a woman sat together on the couch with an intimacy of posture and proximity that suggested a romantic affiliation.

The man slouched in the chair looked like he had stepped out of a stoner comedy from two decades ago. It seems like he had attempted a pencil-thin beard but the length of the stubble suggested he maintained it only irregularly. There was an obvious bald spot at the top of his head. He wore a loose poncho type sweater with several holes and what might've been a hood at the back. His jeans had no holes but looked stained with grease. He gazed at her with the sort of idle curiosity that reminded her of ambush predators in nature documentaries.

The man and the woman on the couch were dressed impeccably in the kind of clothing that suggested old money. The man wore a rose-colored polo, pleated khaki slacks and argyle socks. The woman wore A shirt that looked oversized and a dress over calf-length pants. The contrast between the crispness of her clothing and the calm confidence of her demeanor with the apparent ridiculousness of her outfit suggested that this if this was not this season's current fashion, it was next season’s. It was the kind of fashion sense that always made Bailey feel like she was dressed like a bum. Theoretically, her complete, if coerced nudity might have been a step up if not for two things.

The first was the way that her nudity made obvious the fact that she chose to shave but had not in some time. Asher had already called out her armpits but Bailey now became acutely aware of that the full-length hair on her pubic mound contrasted with the stubble around her lower lips and legs in much the same way as the stoner movie slob’s attempted pencil beard. She realized, in fact, that she had made no attempt at shaving anything since that failed blowjob at that party.

The second problem was that the woman—along with her evident partner—was conventionally beautiful in a way that looked effortless. To have her own body fully exposed in the same room as this woman felt like comparing a gas station hot dog to a meal at a French bistro. Evidently the woman and her partner felt the same way as they both gave Bailey only the most casual glance before returning to the conversation they were engaged in with the walking stoner movie.

“I'm telling you, there are ghosts! That's what the song is about!” declared the slob. “‘Ghoooost riders in the sky!!!’”

The beautiful, elegant woman smiled and giggled slightly. Bailey's ability to pay further attention to the conversation was interrupted as Asher led her to a shaped rack which held an assortment of plants. He glanced back and forth between her and the rack a couple of times before making a decision. There was a rather large central area holding what looked like a small Christmas tree and with two smaller plants on elevated platforms on either side. Asher removed all three plants and then turned her around and corrected her backwards towards the set up.

Having created an empty space in the middle of the plant display, he picked Bailey up and put her feet down where the Christmas tree had been. He then took one leg and put her knee on one side platform, still half-supporting her as he tied it to that platform and the bars to the side, supporting a full height of shelves. He then did the same thing with her other leg on the other side platform. He then tied arms to the top of the whole contraption, as close as he could, fully stretching out her torso. Finally, he took a piece of fabric and ran it under her chin, pulling her head up as far as it would go. He then tied it tightly to something above her as well.

He then tried to pull her forward and she felt the entire contraption tip. That seemed to be the result he was looking for as he nodded and satisfaction. Putting his hands under her thighs, he lifted the entire contraption off the ground and rotated it slightly so that she was more clearly facing the entrance to the living room, before putting it back down. “The neat thing about bamboo is that it's both lightweight and strong,” he told her. “You're a small woman, I can't imagine you weight more than 150 pounds, and you still probably weigh more than the shelf and it's plants put together.”

Bailey, who weighed about 111 pounds most of the time was horrifically offended by the fat man’s dramatic overestimate her weight. But then, as ridiculously fat as he was himself. It was possible he had never had a relationship with a woman, especially not a skinny woman, and had no real sense of what healthy women weighed.

Asher then took the Christmas-tree-like plant and put it back on the central shelf. The top portions brushed inside her legs and while it did not prick her the way she expected, it still tickled a bit and the feeling was disconcerting. And then he put his fingers inside her and spread the lips of her most intimate area in order to put the top of the tree inside her as well. “I'm planning on leaving you like this for a while, I think it looks good, a surrealist version of a star on top of a Christmas tree. Oh I know, an angel would be the clichéd version but that's such a tired pick up line—and we already know I can pick you up any time I want to. But like a star, you have five extremities.”

Asher ran his fingernails across her inner thighs. Despite herself, Bailey shuddered at the physical pleasure. He did the same along her armpits and her cheeks as well. The ones on her face, although he could just as easily have done it to the other ones. He then ran his nails gently up and down her extended belly. Once again, it felt physically fantastic, and yet his ability to put her in this position and do this to her still horrified her.

“See this is what I like, all the sensitive parts exposed and accessible, although I suppose some of them are best reached from the other side. Best reached, but not impossible. He tickled the soles of her feet just long enough to cause her to convulse. She let out an involuntary laugh just loud enough or the collar to shock her. He then pulled his hands back to grab those other cheeks with a surprising amount of force.

It was the kind of thing that could have gotten him criminally prosecuted if he had done it to her mere hours ago, and yet he had already done far worse. If only she would wake up and find that this had been a dream, that she had yet to actually play those matches with him. Please, if there is any higher power, she implored, give me just this day again and I will never again make a mistake so stupid!

But if there was any higher power it seemed disinclined to grant her request after years of neglect. Asher picked up one of the plants from the side shelf and lifting it over her hips pushed it against her ankle. Evidently determining that it was far enough onto the shelf not to fall off, he repeated the exercise with the other one.

“I have no particular need of you for the moment and I'm not sure I will for the rest of the night. I do, however I think it's good procedure to ensure all my pets get enough rest. I have quite a menagerie back home and rooms wired to ensure the proper day and night cycle.” He then turned to the other people in the room. “Hey guys, please remind me to take Bailey down before we go to bed. I have a nice doggie bed all set up in the kitchen. Feel free to feed or water her if you wish. But please do not take her down without my permission.

“What if she needs to use the toilet?” asked the handsome, well-dressed man. Having already failed once to take notice of her abject nudity, he now observed her abject powerlessness only in conjunction with her necessary bodily functions. If there was a more embarrassing way for a handsome and fashionable, yet clearly heterosexual man to take notice of her, Bailey could not imagine it.

“There's a potted plant right there,” said Asher with a gesture, as if that answered the question. It took Bailey a full moment before she realized the implication was that she should simply let go where she was. She desperately hoped that he would decide to take her down before it came to that point. “You don't need to be subtle Lenny,” Asher told the man in the chair. “She's not going anywhere and she can't hide anything.

“And for the next year I own this body. Feel free to look as long and closely as you want and even touch, so long as you stick to your fingers. Mouth too I guess. Or feet if you want. I've seen what you can do with yours. Really anything except your dick. Not that I'm opposed to that, but this hole is off-limits.” Once again his fingers into her and spread her those lips which had always been so private. “Which is to say, if you want to do anything to her with your dick, I want to supervise, At least until I can get a lacing put in.”

“Sorry what?” It was the the beautiful woman.

“Lacing, not Lacey honey,” said the beautiful man.

“Oh, sorry. Lacing what?” Then the woman looked where everyone else's attention was located. “Oh, labial lacing? We were talking about her holes, right. Front door off-limits for friends and guests? Maybe also a clitoral shield.”

“Precisely,” said Asher.” Bailey realized he was confirming an attempt to poke holes in her most intimate areas and sew them up. She wanted so strongly to double over and cover them with her hands and yet the way that she had tied her made the least movement in that direction impossible. She did not know what a clitoral shield was, but it did not sound pleasant. “Although we won't be needing the shield.” She breathed out a sigh of relief.

“Oh is that what the piercer is for tomorrow?”

“Not for the piercing, he said. But it's the reason we won't be needing the shield.” The way he said it made her worry he had something worse planned than a clitoral shield, something he’d already hinted at. Something he was apparently willing to pay over $100k to do to her.

“So what's the plan with the piercer?”

“That'll be a surprise,” he said. Bailey felt her stomach tense. She really did not like the sound of that. “Anyways, for now she's just a slightly interactive display piece. If you want to feed or water her, feel free to untie her face, but I'd appreciate tying it back up when you're done. “When people and especially women are embarrassed there is a natural tendency to look down. I'd like to train her out of that. For now, I’m making it impossible.” He turned briefly to look her directly in the eyes before striding out of the room.

The beautiful couple immediately lost interest in Bailey again, although the slob—Larry, was it?—continued to divide his attention between the conversation and Bailey's body: bound, naked, and exposed, the tip of a little tree inside her most intimate area so that she could be the star on top of Asher's Christmas tree.

Notes:

This is the last of four chapters where I basically rewrote nothing. For chapter 18 it's because I feel like I need to take an ax to it but I don't feel like doing that, it's written fine but it's just filler and exposition for stuff that is explained elsewhere. For chapter 19, 20, and 21, this one, I feel like they are pretty much fine as I wrote them.

Left in the remaining draft after this, there is what looks to be an older version of this chapter, and then 4k words beyond that. Those 4000 words will probably be 2 to 3 chapters of 6-8k words on rewrite. I think potentially, with the rewrites I have done, it would be only one or two chapters after that before I could close this story. Knowing that is an incentive to try to get it done soon, though I'm not sure whether or not I actually will.

Finishing this part of the story a little after the end of this draft would not necessarily be the end of Bailey's story, but her further adventures are completely unwritten and I would write them as a new work in the same series.

Chapter 22: Dinner and a show

Summary:

Lenny examines Bailey's body, with some embarrassing results. Guests then begin filtering in for dinner, to which Bailey is not invited; and the promise of a gameshow, in which Bailey, apparently will be starring.

“Really, Lenny, you don’t need to keep stealing glances like a schoolboy” said Asher, as he stepped back into the room. “I already own this body for the next year at least, and I give you permission to look as hard as you want.” At that, the slob’s stolen glances turned into openogling. “Feel free to come touch, even.”

The man named Lenny—the sort of man Bailey would have crossed several streets to avoid as a free woman—did not need to be asked twice. With Asher’s explicit permission, he stood up and wandered over to Bailey. He started by reaching behind and squeezing her ass with both hands, then moved up to her armpits before traveling down to her breasts, where they lingered as he squeezed and fondled them. He the pinched her nipples and rolling them between his fingers with such force that tears started to come to her eyes.

Here now moved down to examine Baileys very public pubic region, squeezing her labia and clitoris and then inserting his fingers into her vagina, pulling it apart while probing deeper inward. She was worried he was going to bury one of his whole hands insider her, perhaps even make his way all the way to her cervix, but it seemed like he had satisfied himself halfway in, and removing both hands put his right index finger in her belly button and twisted and scraped.

And then, it seemed to occur to him that there was one major crevice in her body that he still had not explored and the man reached under and around with both hands to her asscrack, probing for her asshole. In doing so, he managed to knock her off the plant rack, and there was a disorienting feeling as she toppled forward, resting briefly against Lenny's torso and then sliding down. She felt his erection against her belly as she dropped, and then, she realized that she was still tied to the plant stand: she was not so much sliding down as toppling forward.

As Lenny stepped back, Bailey now fully faceplanted onto the carpet, plant stand on top of her. The Christmas tree had come out of her vagina at least, but she could now feel it against her ass, where it was tickling and yet she was unable to scratch.

“Hey Ash!” called the slob? “Sorry I kind of messed your shit up a bit!”

“Asher stepped out,” Heron called back.

“So what do I … ?”

“Just leave it…” said Heron. Did Heron know that the ‘shit’ Lenny had messed up included Bailey? Would she care?

A few moments later, she heard a different male voice above her. “Here, let me take a look.” Suddenly, the plant stand was being lifted again and Bailey filled her body weight straining against the bounds to the point she was sure they’d break again and drop her. The Christmas-tree plant brushed against her taint, then the bottom of her vulva, and then she was free of if for a moment.

And then, suddenly she was upright, looking at the beautiful man, while his beautiful girlfriend was looking at her. Bailey felt a moment of panic, as if by attracting the attention of the beautiful man with her naked body the beautiful girl might think she was trying to steal him. But then Bailey realized the beautiful girl—Lacey was it—was not even really looking at her, but rather at the plant rack, trying to judge the original homes and the fallen plants.

As Lacey began to pick up the plants and sweep dirt into the pot, the fact that this beautiful woman was perceiving Bailey as no threat at all—indeed, was treating her naked body as simply a part of the décor—that was somehow even more humiliating than the idea that she would see Bailey as a sexual threat simply because her man had glanced at her.

The beautiful man picked up the Christmas tree, and put it back between her legs, where the tip of it now brushed against her clitoris, although fortunately not in a ticklish fashion. That state of affairs, however did not last long, as Lenny stepped forward to put the tip of the tree back inside her vagina. This, evidently was the one part of Asher’s decorating scheme that Lenny had noticed. Or maybe he simply had a weird kind of perverted OCD?

“Satisfied Lenny?” asked the beautiful man.

“For now.” Lenny moved aside, then returned to his seat.

Lacy found a hand broom and dustpan with which she was cleaning up the rug as best she could. As the beautiful, fashionably dressed woman squatted in front of her cleaning up the mess that Bailey had in some sense been responsible for, every part of her upbringing was screaming that she should help, and yet the restraints prevented her from doing so. And yet this woman evinced no resentment at Bailey’s uselessness: she took it for granted, and that stung again.

The beautiful man had returned with a vacuum and had a brief argument with his girlfriend over who would do the vacuuming. Eventually he won the argument, and set up vacuuming up at the remaining dirt. He's handsome and he does housework—and he's hers. And the worst thing about it was that, looking at Lacey, Bailey knew she did not deserve a man like that, and probably never would.

***

Scarcely had the beautiful man put away the vacuum than guests began trickling in: knocking at the door to be admitted by Heron, but another guest, or by one of the beautiful couple. Bailey's muscles begin to cramp, but of course if you could not do much of anything to stretch them. Some of the guests took an interest in her, A few even tentatively examined her, although without Asher’s explicit invitation, none of them got too intrusive—not compared to Lenny, or the twenty spectators at the end of the match.

Bailey had begun to zone out when she was not being actively fondled, until she heard a distressingly familiar voice. “Oh my God, Bailey!?” It was Jared. “I got your messages and I came as soon as I could. Well after I signed the NDA of course. But I admit I told Farrin and Rachel you were on a gameshow and I think your badminton coach recruited you for it. But they didn't tell me what it was. I'm surprised to be honest, I didn't really think it was your kind of thing.” Bailey felt the faint stirrings of hope: Jared had told Farrin something about her situation, that was something maybe?

“Mr. Bernstein,” said Heron, seeming to materialize out of thin air. “The speaking round of the show is over. For the rest of the show, the competitors are not allowed to speak. They even have a shock collar to prevent it. But you have a very special part to play, if you choose to accept it. I promise that for your privacy your face will be blurred and your identity will be protected.” With a sinking feeling, Bailey suspected that this implied that whatever was happening would be filmed, and that neither her face nor her intimate regions would be blurred.

As Heron escorted Jared away, Bailey struggled to process the other implications of that non-interaction. She had obviously sent him messages on Bailey's behalf as well as getting him to sign an NDA on the details after he already leaked the idea that she was on a gameshow, presumably a fun thing. Also, there apparently was a game show. Did this mean that Heron also never lied? Or at least never spoke an untruth? Or has she gotten the idea in the course of the lie and somehow thrown something together on the spot?

As the smells from the kitchen grew increasingly appetizing, the visitors drifted away from the living room before she heard an official proclamation of “Dinner!”

The guests filtered out of the room with remarkable rapidity, and Bailey was left alone in her aching discomfort and dizziness and embarrassment for an indeterminate amount of time as she heard laughter and murmurs echoing from down the hallway.

***

At last, Bailey heard feet coming down the hallway and looked to see a naked girl crawling on all fours on a leash. Heron was holding the leash, and the girl was Hannah. Hannah gave Bailey such an intense glare, and Bailey could not understand for the life of her why. And then, as Heron tied Hannah's leash to a hook on the wall and begin rearranging the living room, It dawned on Bailey that Hannah had either been told or assumed that Bailey, like Hannah had lost a match with Asher deliberately and Hannah now saw Bailey as a competition.

Heron was in and out of the room several times, joined by an increasing number of others to whom she gave usually orders that Bailey found herself unable to parse. They pulled out almost everything that wasn't bolted down, replacing it with a set and folding chairs. Bailey's first thought was that this had to of been planned, but as she looked over the extremely basic set—consisting only of some curtains, microphones, two folding tables, and a podium—she realized it could indeed have been thrown together in a few hours.

Finally the only movable piece of furniture left in the room was the plant rack and Heron untied Bailey and helped her down. She felt pins and needles in her arms and legs as Heron put her on a leash and led her down the steps and into the cool outside air. The view from outside confirmed that she was indeed in a suburban development, if a rather posh-looking one.

Chapter 23: Big walk around a small neighborhood

Summary:

Heron takes Bailey on a short walk so she can relieve herself like a dog, an experience which proves to be far more humiliating than Bailey ever could have anticipated. When they get back, she learns the nature of the game show she will be participating in, and things start looking even worse...

“I was going to leave you on display until the game started, said Heron, but I realized if you've been like that for three and a half hours you probably need to pee.”

Bailey realized she did and nodded gratefully. And then it occurred to her to wonder why she was outside and not in the restroom.

“There's a storm grate at the end of the path,” said Heron.

Bailey looked down and around and realized that the houses were connected by a gravel pathway, and she saw no cars. She did, however see a few people out and about.

As Heron led her over the painful gravel path and Bailey's naked body caught the poorly-concealed curious glances from the neighbors, Bailey found herself wondering if it might be better to still be blindfolded. She also realized that every neighbor she saw seemed to be a senior citizen. Is this a retirement community? she tried to ask. The shock from her collar prevented it. One of those gentlemen, a somewhat portly fellow with jowls like a walrus and a German shepherd fell in beside them.

“And what kind of dog do you have young lady?” He asked Heron. "I'm not sure I recognize the breed."

“That's because the young lady is at the end of the leash and I'm the bitch,” said Heron, with a smile.

“Oho! That kind of relationship is it? Well I've never had an objection when it's two women. I've even watched some documentaries on the subject. I would love to be a fly on the wall for some of the games you two play.”

“If you want, we are doing a game show at eight. She and I won't be fucking, but she and two other slutty bitches will be competing at fucking men. And we're taking audience volunteers for some of the acts.”

“I'll be there if you'll promise not to tell the Missus." He winked "Would it be too forward if I invited some gentleman pals as well?”

“The more the merrier!” declared Heron.

The man seemed to chuckle to himself softly until they reached a parking lot, which was also gravel. In the middle of the parking lot was a storm grate. Bailey looked at the great dubiously. She could not imagine squatting on that in the middle of the parking lot and being able to relieve herself.

“Get on all fours over the grate,” said Heron. “I want to sit for a bit and we have time.”

It was uncomfortable to get down on her hands and knees on the cold metal. It was even more so when Heron sat herself down on top of Bailey like a bench. And Bailey found herself acutely aware of her need to relieve herself and of being asked to wait right near the place she was supposed to. She no longer had any doubt that no matter how embarrassing, she could do it. And then, the German Shepherd stuck its nose cold nose right between her more that set of 'lips' Bailey still thought of as private.

“Oh I'm sorry!” Exclaimed the old gentleman. “She gets like that sometimes and you know how dogs are.” However he made no particular effort to restrain the dog.

“No worries at all,” said Heron. “She belongs to a friend of mine and I wouldn't be surprised if he has plans for her to go a lot further with dogs and horses ... and pigs and chimpanzees for that matter. It's only this week that he finally got a woman willing to go along with his plans, but I know he's talked about that idea before.”

With the dog still nosing in her crotch, Bailey saw herself being penetrated by dogs, horses, pigs, and chimpanzees. She felt her gorge rise. She couldn't imagine which was worst. Dogs felt ... almost incestuous. She'd seen horse penises and they looked large enough to damage her—and definitely large enough to smash her cervix, if she had no say in how far the stallion penetrated her. Pigs, of course were disgusting, and the idea of being fucked by one was utterly degrading. But there was something particularly disturbing about chimpanzees, so humanlike and so inhuman.

“That's a great set up you've got there,” said the man. “My old bones get tired often. Perhaps I should think of getting something like that'un.”

“Your best bet would be a creature,” said Heron. “You can get budget ones near the end of their useful life for a few thousand. But if you want one as fuckable as this one here–” she slapped Bailey's ass at that, finally scaring the dog away “–I'm afraid you're probably looking at around 80,000, minimum.”

“With my retirement, I can afford that,” said the man amiably. “But I'm afraid the old lady might have a thing or two to say about the idea.”

“The neat thing about using a body like this as a seat,” said Heron, “is not just the portability and fuckability but also the adjustability. Down on your elbows,” she told Bailey. Bailey complied, acutely aware of how it was putting her ass up in the air. That did not last long. “Move your legs apart. Further, far as they will go.” It strained Bailey to the limit and was particularly uncomfortable when Heron stepped on top of her with one foot, pushing Bailey's ass down between her splayed legs. “This height makes a great foot rest or a little stool. Bailey girl, feel free to let go whenever. We need to head back in five minutes.”

Despite the discomfort of the position, despite the anxiety of the deadline and the audience, Bailey found she was able to let loose a stream. She didn't even slow her stream as she felt Heron step off and then sit back down on her. Bailey supposde that the one advantage of this position is that her front side was not particularly visible for any passersby, although the man with the dog was still watching. “If it's all the same to you,” he said “I think I'll take my leave for now. I like a little mystery around the fairer sex"—the fact that he was grossed out or embarrassed by seeing Bailey perform this bodily function was humiliating to her, while the fact that he was able to simply step out of it reminded her of how completely powerless she was—"but I will see you at eight!”

“I hope to see your friends as well!” called Heron, as the man wandered off.

It was perhaps minutes after Bailey had finished before Heron got up and pulled on Bailey's leash to lead her back. She got up on her knees and then back on her feet to follow Heron down the path. A woman who might have been as young as middle age with three pit bulls gave Bailey the stink eye and steered well clear. Bailey was glad to avoid the woman and her dogs, but felt a well of resentment that this woman should be judging her. Bailey had not chosen to parade around naked on a leash, whatever Heron contended.

As they climbed up the front stoop, Heron ordered Bailey down on her hands and knees. “Hands and knees only for the rest of the show, except when I tell you otherwise.” She then opened the front door and as Bailey crawled through it behind her loudly proclaimed “We’re baaaack!” This succeeded in getting most of the eyes turned onto them, precisely what Bailey did not want.

***

“Ladies and gentlemen,” announced Asher, mercifully diverting attention away from them again, “Please find your seats. It is six minutes to eight, and my co-host has just returned with our final contestant.” This turned a lot of eyes back to Heron and Bailey, although Heron led her behind one of the curtains. From the perspective of the hallway, however, it concealed little.

“Bailey!?” Bailey looked and realized that behind the second curtain—separating her from Hannah behind the third—was Jayler. He pulled himself up on his knees and turned around to face her head on, and she saw that he was wearing a chastity cage around his penis and nothing else. She wasn't sure whether that made it better or worse. It seemed like balls on their own might be more disconcerting then when accompanied by a cock. “I’d never have thought to see you here. You really never struck me as the type! I mean they say you never can tell, but I usually can!”

Bailey opened her mouth, wanting to say something. Before the collar could remind her, Jayler spoke again. “Oh sorry, I forgot that he likes to collar bitches who ‘lose’ matches to him.” He put massive air quotes around ‘lose.’ I expect to be wearing one of those in another three weeks, but when he asked if I wanted to watch a round, I told him ‘bitch, I'm competing.’”

“I did tell Jayler that it was an uphill battle this time.” The voice from behind her was Asher and Bailey resisted the temptation to turn to look at him. “Most of the men here have no interest in men.”

“And if I win regardless, it's all the more impressive. And if I lose, you're stuck with me for a whole month, and I get to take a whole lot of cocks. Which means I still win.”

From that conversation, Bailey picked up two things. The first, rather horrifyingly, is that she was about to take “a whole lot of cocks.” Which is what Heron had told the old man, but it was only now registering for her. If Heron had arranged this entire thing on a whim to punish her for calling the unwanted penetrations she’d experienced ‘rape,’ that was something that she probably would have found darkly impressive had she not been to target. As the target, it made her feel a little bit terrified. If this was Heron punishing her, she was even more terrifying than Asher. Although it sounded like there was at least some infrastructure in place, that this gameshow had been run before.

Speaking of Asher, she heard his voice from in front of the middle curtain. “Ladies and gentlemen, dudes and dames, perverts and pervettes, welcome to this episode of …”

“Who’s. The. Sluttiest!” The crowd chorused. She could not see but presumed they had been prompted. Behind her curtain, Bailey burned with a shame at the implication she possessed any degree of sluttiness. But it was worth to know that in a matter of minutes she would be forced to demonstrate the promiscuity she had no desire to engage in to a live audience.

Chapter 24: Competitors, stakes, and handicaps

Summary:

Heron introduces the three contests for "Who's the Sluttiest?" along with the stakes they are playing for. Since Bailey and Hannah both have an 'unfair advantage' over the third contestant, two handicaps to make the gameshow more fair are also explained.

Notes:

With this chapter, my draft is almost at an end. There is material for a partial chapter after this, and after that, finishing this story will be new writing. I know approximately where and how I want to end it, but I'm not entirely sure how many chapters it will take me to get there. I am tentatively estimating that after finishing the next chapter, I have what feels like three chapters of material. But when I write long stories like this they tend to get longer in the writing, so it might end up being more like six or even more.

“Tonight, rather unusually,” Asher announced from in front of the curtain, “we have three contestants, all from the local prelaw department if you'll believe it! If you've ever wanted to watch lawyers get fucked, we hope tonight will surpass your wildest dreams.” This drew scattered laughter from the audience. Bailey wanted to protest that she was a communications major, but in light of everything else, that seemed like the least important protest to make if she could somehow get around the shock collar. “Tonight we present two lovely legal ladies and a gay bottom who claims he can outdo them both. Heron, would you kindly introduce our audience to the contestants and their stakes?”

“Gladly, Ash. Behind the curtain to my right, we have Hannah, and she's a big fan of bananas … if you catch my drift.” This drew scattered laughter of a distinctly more ribald sort. “She has a month-long contract with Ash to do whatever he asks of her. But if she loses tonight, it becomes a year, and she will spend her 24th birthday doing the same.” Bailey had always thought that Hannah was older than her, she acted so … childish It was distinctly weird to realize she was older, even if only by two or three years. “Folks, please give it up for Hannah!”

There was a wild round of applause.

“Anyone here Irish?”

A few scattered cheers.

“I ask because behind the curtain to my left, we have the beautiful Bailey. Like a fine whiskey she’s 21 years old. How many whiskeys do you all know that are themselves of drinking age? And if we can get a few Irishman to fill her with their cream, you know what that makes her?”

“Bailey's Irish cream!” came a shout from the back, followed by scattered laughter and voices repeating the punchline.

Bailey found herself convulsing with a degree of indignation she hadn't felt at being literally raped. Because fuck Heron, it absolutely fucking was rape, what she had been through, what she was about to go through again. But that was such a bad pickup line, and such a gross one. Until today, when Professor Jackson had made the joke and she could do nothing about it, she had never realized what a difference it has made to be able to shut the men who used it down.

As a free woman, it had been icky and annoying for sure, even a little degrading, but not absolutely abjectly mortifying in the way it was now. Now, not only could no one see her reaction, but the men who used it and laughed at it would be rewarded with the sexual use of her body. That reward would be granted by the same woman soliciting the punchline to grant them, the same woman who had tried to guilt and shame Bailey for calling that activity ‘rape.’

“Bailey is also a first timer and jumped into this world with both feet. Bailey chose to lose twice, giving her to Asher here for a full year already.” Bailey felt herself burning up with embarrassment and anger and shame at the implication that she had lost to Asher of her own volition, that she was here because she wanted to be, and yet worse was still in store.

“Actually,” said Heron, “it's not precisely a year that Bailey bit because it seems like our lovely young Bailey here is a little baby crazy, but not quite ready to be a mother. And so she bet Asher a fertility-adjusted year of her life, that is the equivalent time it would take to have an equal chance of having a baby as a proper creature would have in a year.

“We will be getting her stress factors appraised in six weeks, but realistically it could be anywhere from about sixteen months to three-and-a-half years that Asher has her—unless, of course, she decides to lose to him again.” This drew a round of laughter and Bailey was relieved that she could not see the audience and they could not see her. “Either way, at the end of festivities I invite you all to wish the happy pair best of luck in their babymaking endeavors.” More laughter..

“Now,” continued Heron, Hannah's first time under contract, we tried to take it slow, just a little housework. But she was insistent and by the next day we were finding her dicks to suck. As impressive as that is, Bailey’s has been even faster. This is her first day of her first time, and not only did she commit to a fertility-adjusted year, but she has already taken nine dicks today and in every hole. Yes ladies and gentlemen, after three games of badminton, our Bailey here still had it in her to play half a round of golf—as the course!”

This drew more laughter from the audience.

“Three dicks, but she’s taken a dick nine times today.” Bailey recognized that authoritative voice, as well as the pedantic insistence on exactitude in phrasing. It was. Dr. Jackson.

“Technically yes. Now as ya’ll know, as only two of her holes are on the table this evening—gotta make it fair for our last contestant—but do you think we can get nine different dicks in Miss Bailey?”

The crowd roared raucously.

“How about twice that, think we can double it? Think we can get eighteen different dicks in Miss Bailey? Make it a proper round of golf, with a different set of balls for every hole?”

More raucous cheering, along with some laughter.

“As we said, Miss Bailey is already under contract for a year and has decided not to up her wager. But unlike with our other two contestants, Miss Bailey’s stakes are a secret even to her. Do y'all promise not to tell if I write it on this board?”

The crowd murmured its agreement. Bailey wondered what her surprise prize would be—if it were something she might actually want?

There was a pause and then a mixture of laughter, “oohs,” and “reallys!” along with at least one “I’d like to see that!”

“Well, I think that's enough suspense. Some of you already know her, a few of you saw her as decor earlier in the day. Whether you know her or this is your first time, please welcome Miss Bailey!”

***

The curtain came up. Despite herself, Bailey crawled forward in front of it as the crowd roared its approval. When Heron had made the golf joke, Bailey would not have believed that 18 people would have fit in that room. Now she saw that there were perhaps 40, mostly men. Jared and Mr. Jackson were there and the old man with the German shepherd and several other old men beside him. But they were also a few women.

And as she scanned the faces of the audience … Bailey froze with shock. Seated beside Mr. Jackson, front and center, were five young women. There was an East Asian looking woman and a bottle blonde she didn't recognize. But she recognized Suzanne and Cassidy. And, sitting somewhat stony-faced: Farrin.

All of the classmates Bailey had wanted to warn were there. Across the stage, also on all fours, was Hannah, glaring daggers at Bailey. She clearly believed that Bailey had indeed lost intentionally and was now seeking to upstage her. Bailey supposed that the upshot of that is that it might make Hannah more determined to win. Apparently she had agreed to wager a year with Asher in this gameshow. It was not clear what, if anything, Hannah stood to win. The question was whether Hannah wanted to win this gameshow. Another question would be how much agency the contestants even really had in this competition, which seemed to be based on how many of the audience wanted to fuck the 'contestants'?

For that matter, did Bailey even want to win? She was not entirely reassured by the sound of the audience reaction. Would winning this competition prove a trap? Alternatively, was there any chance that her freedom was on the table? Probably not, but right in front of her were at least three of the five classmates who had not yet seen Asher play. Bailey presumed that the other two young women in the audience with the three she knew—the Asian and the bottle-blonde—were the two she didn't recognize. Asher was clearly trying to taunt her, but he had also given her an opening. Despite the collar around her neck, she needed to find some way to warn them.

***

While Bailey examined her still-free classmates, Heron introduced Jayler. “Our final contestant is a little different from the other two. For one thing, he's not under contract right now. But he is the reigning champion of our last episode. And when he found out two of his classmates were competing in this one he told us…”

“Ain't no bitch can suck cock like a bitch who has a cock.” Jayler threw back his own curtain and walked onto the stage, kneeling down and making a dramatic dick-sucking motion. His wisecrack, his entrance, and his pantomime all elicited laughter from the crowd. Wait… Jayler was allowed to speak? Was this because he was not ‘under contract’?

“Jayler knows that most of the men in the audience identify as straight but he promises if you give him a chance it'll be the best blowjob of your lives.”

“I have a dick, so I know my way around one!” Jayler proclaimed.

“Jayler identifies as a bottom, and 100% gay,” said Heron.

“I'm at seven on the Kinsey scale!” he declared.

“The Kinsey scale only goes up to six!” protested Cassidy.

“I know,” said Jayler smugly.

“Jayler likes getting off from his prostate and does not like sexual activities with women,” said Heron. “If he loses he will have to let both of our other lovely contestants here suck his dick.”

“That wasn't the deal!” Jayler protested with a smile.

The smile Heron returned to him suggested a tacit understanding between them. “My bad,” she said. “I'm reading the forfeit for next time when we have him under contract. If he loses this time, it's another month under contract!”

“If I lose, I win!” Jayler declared, “but I'm playing to win!”

That got decent laughter, along with some confused murmuring.

“Tell then what I get if I win,” said Jayler.

“Well, Mr. Jason Tyler Garcia…”—Jayler pulled an exaggerated face at that—“I was going to explain the rules first but since you brought it up… The prize for winning is the same for all contestants, said Heron.” Wait! Had Bailey misunderstood what Heron had shown the audience: not a prize for Bailey, but a forfeit? “Ash, would you tell our lovely audience what the winning contestant gets?”

“The contestant who wins the game, gets to … suck my cock. Right here in front of all you lovely people, with, of course a towel for my privacy.”

The audience laughed a bit at that.

“Don't worry, I promise it's a very small towel.”

That got a roar of laughter.

“It will be the last cock the winner sucks tonight, but it definitely won't be the first. And speaking of cocks, ya’ll might be noticing that poor Jayler with his cock has a bit of an unfair disadvantage on two accounts? Firstly because he has one less hole to offer, and secondly because most of the cock owners in the audience probably have a preference for the ladies.”

There were murmurs of agreement from the men in the audience, combined with a "not me!" or two.

“So to help level the playing field, we are doing two things for Jayler here. First off, he gets to have his shock collar off for the first round, to try to persuade you gentlemen to give him a try. And secondly… Asher reached into a box beside him and pulled out a terrifying contraption with a very short but very thick dildo covered in uncomfortable looking protrusions. Asher continued: “We also have two very special strap-ons for our other two contestants.”

He handed the frightening contraption to Heron, who went over to Hannah, inserted the dildo into her vagina, and then begin to affix it to her backwards. With a dawning horror, Bailey realized that she was about to have the same thing done to her.

“Just for our show, for your edification and entertainment, we’ve had these two very special strap-ons custom made,” Asher explained after as he pulled the identical twin of the one Heron was imposing on Hannah out of the box. “These ones are fully reversible for use with the lady-bits. Most strap-ons, you know, are designed for women to use in a man's rectum, which is considerably longer than the vagina, especially in an a not-fully aroused state. And the ladies here can correct me, but I believe it takes a bit more to get the female of the species to full arousal?”

Bailey looked out to see that several of the women in the audience were nodding, while Cassidy was shaking her head vigorously and putting two thumbs down. No, not down, pointed at herself.

“It would not be fun for our contestants if we reversed a dildo to fill up their cunts, and every time someone used their rear entrance there was the risk of it bashing up against the cervix, would it?”

Bailey winced and noticed that most of the women in the audience were cringing as well, including Cassidy, at the idea of a dildo randomly hitting the cervix.

“However, the vagina may be shallower than a man's rear compartment, but it can accommodate wider objects. How many of you have seen a baby's head?” he asked, to murmurs of acknowledgment. Bailey noticed he was holding up a grapefruit, which she realized in horror was about the size of the dildo on the strap-on Asher was demonstrating.

“We have designed our reversible strap-ons to push the human pussy to its very limit. This includes a button you can press to turn vibration on or off and a dial you can turn to change the vibration mode.” He pressed the button to turn the dildo on and it made a buzzing sound. He then changed the dial several times and the nature of the sound changed with it. He then continued: “So while in the spirit of fairness to Jayler, the cunts of our lovely cunts Hannah and Bailey will be off-limits to audience participants, we invite you to play with this feature as you are playing with them.”

Asher now turned the dildo off, and approached Bailey. She wanted to run, but she knew that he was his to torture as he wished for the next year at least and there was nowhere she could go. She wanted to beg, but the shock collar prevented that. And then he was spreading her legs, pressing it into her and it … It hurt a bit in the way that it stretched her vagina, but the spikes going in actually felt … kind of good. Bailey hated that it felt kind of good. And she also feared the vibrations—one of the settings in particular had sounded like a jackhammer.

Heron was now helping Asher fasten the inverted strap-on to Bailey’s otherwise-naked body. It went around her middle and her thighs, leaving her asshole still wide-open for the audience members to fuck tonight. And then, with this massive intrusion now fixed firmly into her most intimate regions, Asher and Heron now stood up on either side of Bailey, turning back to the audience.

“Heron, would you tell our lovely guests the rules?” Asher asked.

“Ash, I would love to!” said Heron with a bright, seemingly sincere smile. “Does everybody here have a stamp, a card, and a pencil?”

Chapter 25: Ground rules and a live demonstration

Summary:

Heron explains the scoring system of "Who's The Sluttiest?" and then calls up three gentlemen volunteers for a live demonstration.

In response to Heron’s question, while the crowd mostly murmured affirmation, there were a few “no’s” and “I don't’s.”

“If you don't, don't worry. We have spares in that basket. Does everyone here have a penis?”

That led to loud laughter, and some shouts of agreement. “I don’t!” declared a woman of about thirty.”

“Me neither,” said Heron, “But if you don't have one and want to participate, Lacey would you do the honors?”

Bailey looked where Heron was looking and saw the female half of the beautiful couple pull a cloth off a large box.

“Anyone who wants to use a strap-on is welcome to borrow one of ours,” said Herom. “if you don’t have a cock yourself, or just wish you had a better one. Or if you don’t want to dirty your dick in a bunch of nasty, filthy sluts.” She looked pointedly at Bailey, who felt simultaneously humiliated and enraged by the unfairness: both of calling her a slut, and of the fact that the audience had options to avoid unwanted sexual contact with her, while she had no power to refuse any sexual contact whatsover, and Heron had forced Bailey to ‘admit’ that this still didn’t constitute rape.

“Anyways,” Heron continued, “the winner is the one who collects the most points from viewers and participants for the use of the two available holes: mouth and asshole. We have portable tables set up behind the curtains that each of our final contestants will climb on top of. Participants will line up and decide if they want to do a single or a double and whether they want to do it publicly or privately.

“A participant doing a single can use either available hole. Condoms are completely optional, but please use lubricant for the assholes. We have several options around, and if you cannot find one, please ask me, Asher, Percy, or Lacey. we ask that you please use lubricant even if you are using one of the surrogate penises on that table over there. Technology is unfortunately not quite yet at the point that we have self-lubricating dildos.”

There were murmurs of laughter. Bailey noticed in particular that Jared smiled, while Cassidy covered her mouth.

“A double must penetrate mouth and asshole simultaneously. If using one real and one surrogate penis in a double, it is preferable that you put the real cock in the mouth, but it is not required. When you are done, find a blank space on the body of the participant, please write a number between one and five on the body of the contestants to rate how much you enjoyed the experience. There is no limit on how many times you can go, however we ask that you rate the experience after each round.

“There will be a twenty-five minute intermission for drinks and refreshments after two hours and then roughly every ninety minutes thereafter. We normally end after the third round, but we go for an encore round if the audience demands it.” The audience made noises that perhaps suggested they were certain they would want an encore round. “Every audience thinks they will want an encore at the beginning,” said Heron, “but five fucking hours—literally,” that got decent laughter from the audience, “with two intermissions of nearly an hour will take us well after midnight, by which point most of our participants find they are turning into pumpkins.” More laughter.

“We may also called the competition early, if we find audience enthusiasm is flagging early. Our experience is that this is more likely to happen than an encore. At this point, we will tally up all of the points awarded to our contestants, but today, for this round, we have a slight twist. Several people here today know one or more of the contestants. If you believe you know the contestant well, please double whatever score you would have given out of five.” Cassidy was making jazz hands and Bailey was not sure if that was her saying that she would give a hypothetical experience 10 out of 10.

“Additionally,” continued Heron, “we have three special guests in the audience. Would Dr. Jackson, Jared Bernstein, and Lucky please stand up.” Jared, Professor Jackson, and a man with a u-shaped mustache in a flannel shirt and John Deere hat stood up. “Dr. Jackson is Hannah’s torts professor,” Heron explained. “Jared Bernstein is the long-term study buddy and will-they-won't-they love interest of Bailey here.” What!? Bailey had never had a hint of interest from Jared that she was aware of, and she was certainly not interested in him.

“Lucky insists he is straight but a blow job as a blow job,” Heron continued. “All three of them have agreed to publicly help our contestants display their skills. Their assessments of the skills of their assigned contestant will count three times as much. Would you three gentlemen please come join your respective demonstration buddy?” At this, all three of the volunteers came up to stand in front of one of the stage before contestants: Dr. Jackson taking Hannah—Wait wasn't she still his student?—Jared in front of Bailey, Lucky in front of Jayler.

“Additionally, we ask you as the audience to rate the enjoyability of each exhibition on your card. After this round we will collect the cards and open up the game to the general public. If you just want to watch, we ask you to think about which contestant you enjoy watching most. On the table with the surrogate penises, you will see three cans for each of our contestants and a bowl of poker chips. None of the local casinos will redeem those chips for cash, so we ask you to kindly drop a chip in the bowl of the contestant you most enjoyed watching. The winner of the fan-favorite contest will get a bonus 69 points.” There was slight laughter at the casino joke and louder laughter at the points award. “The runner-up with get 34.” A few members of the audience laughed at this as well, including Jared. If there was a joke, Bailey did not get it. 34 was just half of 69, wasn't it?

“Normally, the audience favorite score doesn't count towards the main goal,” said Heron, and we have a separate prize for the winner of the fan-favorite contest. This time, however we are combining the results. The runner-up of the contest will win a free set of electrolysis appointment covering bits, pits, crack, and belly regions.”

“That would be so mine,” said Jayler, “if I wasn't planning on winning the main event!”

“You will be relieved to hear,” said Heron, “that we will be putting Jayler in an electroshock collar after the first round.” This got some laughter, including from Jayler. “Would our three contestants please crawl to the front of the stage to meet their demonstration partners? And would our generous gentleman demonstrators please pull out the instrument they will be using to demonstrate with?”

As Bailey crawled forward towards the edge of the stage, she noticed third things. First, the massive dildo strapped inside her was simultaneously deeply uncomfortable and yet also felt uncomfortably pleasant as she moved forward. Secondly, Jared—sweet, non-threatening study-body Jared whom she had always assumed had a strictly platonic interest in her—was pulling his penis out of his pants. Pulling it out for the stated purpose of either fucking her in the ass or making her blow him. Thirdly, Bailey realize that this was the first time today she had the penis that was about to penetrate her, and somehow, seeing it made the whole thing feel surreal.

***

“OK gentlemen, starting with the good professor, do you want to tell us which hole you will be using?”

“I will admit I've always been curious about Hannah's cocksucking abilities, given her reputation,” said Professor Jackson. Bailey's now former professor, as well as thrice-and-future rapist, had just indicated in his calm, authoritative professorial voice that he had heard rumors that another one of his female students was good at oral.

“And Jared?” Heron asked? “Which hole on Miss Bailey will you be using to start with?”

“Blowjob.” Jared seemed somehow nervous. How was he nervous? He just had to stand there and get a blow job that … honestly, as Bailey thought about it, if he had asked her out, if they had agreed to be exclusive, she probably would've said ‘yes.’ But he had never given any sign of interest in her in that fashion until this very evening.

“Mouth then,” said Heron. “And Lucky?”

“Well now y’all are forcing my hand,” said the walking redneck stereotype, with exaggerated reluctance. “I ain't no homo, and I prefer the front entrance on a dude, but I guess I gotta mix things up a little bit.

“Yeah, you do!” said Jayler. “But come back when you can get it up again, because I give amazing head.”

“Best blowjob of my life!” said a man in the audience Bailey could not pick out.

“Do any of you fine gentlemen need a condom?” Heron asked.

Lucky and Professor Jackson both shook their heads. “I would,” said Jared timidly.

Heron pulled a condom from a bucket of them, walked over to Jared, stopped down, and then stopped. “You sure, my man? If it's your first ejaculation of the day you'll be giving Bailey a fine gift if you let her swallow a full load of your sailor-boys.”

“And if it's not your first,” called Jay, “your load will look embarrassingly small!”

Jared blushed bright red but grabbed the condom out of Heron’s hand. Bailey remembered the video Heron had made her send and realized that it would definitely not be Jared's first ejaculation of the day. It wouldn't even be his first ejaculation of the day related to her. As she looked at him, she realized he was now looking at her. “I mean if you want me to go bareback, Bailey…?”

Bailey shook her head vigorously. Obviously, given the choice, she would prefer to be sexually assaulted with a condom. The fact that Jared was finally showing her such small considerations as asking whether she preferred a condom just highlighted the fact that she could not reject publicly sucking her former study buddy off, much less any of the rest of what would be done to her tonight.

Bailey realized with a start that he had torn open the wrapper and was now pulling the condom on over his erect, circumcised penis. It occurred to her that Dr. Jackson would have his penis out too. She looked over to see that he was semi erect and uncircumcised. Bailey new, at least after the fact, what one of the three penises that had already penetrated her look like and once again it felt almost to surreal to make anything of.

Looking to her other side, Lucky was fully erect as he spread lube inside Jayler’s asshole and then on his own cock. He, like Jared, appeared to be circumcised.

“OK, announced Heron, “contestants open your mouth or spread those cheeks. If our gentleman volunteers would please commence the demonstration in 3 … 2 … 1 go!”

Jared stood frozen like a deer in the spotlight. Bailey looked to her other side to see that Dr. Jackson already had his cock in Hannah’s mouth, while Lucky’s cock was in Jayler’s asshole and Lucky was thrusting away. Even knowing that she had been publicly raped and would be again God only knew how many times more this night, Bailey felt a vicarious embarrassment for Jared’s indecisive awkwardness. She crawled forward, put her mouth around Jared’s dick, and began to suck.

Fuck… a voice inside Bailey wondered halfway through, am I violating his consent? Bailey looked up. Whatever that expression on her ex-study-buddy’s face was, it was not the face of a boy being blown against his will.

Notes:

With this, I have exhausted the written part of the draft. I am tentatively guessing that the remaining part of the planned story that I will need to write from scratch is about nine chapters in part because ... 34. But I will see when I get closer to that point.

Chapter 26: Let the games begin!

Summary:

After Bailey finishes sucking off her former study buddy, the real games can finally begin... the audience participation part.

As Bailey tried to run her tongue around Jared's cock, she realized that after sucking three cocks—and Asher’s twice—without protection, it felt a little weird to have a condom there. Then she processed the cheers and jeers from the audience—as closes as that first time, with Asher, but there was no fence … indeed, they would be invited to try out her mouth too … or her butthole.

“Use your hands, Bailbond!” called a woman’s voice. Bailey’s eyes shot open: the voice belonged to Cassidy. Bailey was mortified. Had Cassidy come up with that nickname independently, or had she been talking to Jared and learned that it was how he referred to her? Given Cassidy's tendency to gossip and pry, given her demonstrated history of getting more information out of people than they wished to share, it was very likely the former.

Noticing that she was now looking at her, Cassidy locked eyes with Bailey. “Stick those pretty little fingers in that fly of his and give them a good fondling,” she added. “Maybe even give them a little squeeze. Jared here strikes me as the type who likes getting his balls busted a little bit.” Bailey felt Jared go slightly limper in her mouth—and realized she didn't even need to look at him to see that Cassidy's comments were embarrassing him—or at least that last one had.

Bailey tried to suck and tongue him back to erection, but it wasn't working. And so, even though Cassidy had been responsible for the current state of affairs, Bailey felt she had no choice but to now test her advice. Leaning harder on her left hand, Bailey reached her right hand into Jared’s fly. Still keeping his cock in her mouth and trying to remember to suck and tongue it, she found her way into his pants and then his underwear and at last found his balls. The moment she made contact she felt Jared fully stiffen in her mouth again: Cassidy was right: involving the balls evidently helped.

Bailey gently examined Jared's testicles with her fingers, and then, almost immediately she felt them tightening, pulling up into his body. Did the balls work in the opposite manner to the penis? Suddenly, she heard a slight moan from Jared and felt his penis go completely soft and limp. It took Bailey a moment before she realized that he had to come in the condom, it took him gently pulling his own penis out of her mouth for her to recognize what had happened.

Bailey let go of his testicles, pulled her hands out of his pants, and watched as he awkwardly fiddled with getting the condom off before slipping his penis safely back into the security and privacy of his pants. Even as a participant on the game show getting publicly blown by Bailey, Jared’s private parts were still private by default. Bailey noticed that Jared had just tied his condom off and was now holding it awkwardly, pinched between two fingers.

“Take it Bailey,” said Heron, “it's your spit. Throw it in here.” Heron nudged a small trashcan with the toe of her foot. With great reluctance, Bailey reached out to Jared and took the condom with his semen, before dropping it into the trashcan near her side. “If you are using condoms,” Heron announced, “we ask participants to kindly make sure they go in the trash cans beside them. Ultimately, our three contestants are responsible for any messes they make, and we will be docking points at the end, especially for used condoms, but we still ask our audience participants to be considerate and try to help with the cleanup where possible.”

“Sounds like bareback is the simplest way to keep things neat and tidy!” called voice from the audience, to scattered laughter.

“Sure is!” said Heron cheerily. “And while we cannot guarantee the STI status of any of our fellow audience members, we can guarantee that all three of our contestants were clean when this started. It takes a while for infections to spread and it's harder to spread from bottom to top, so feel free to take a chance on any of them: it's a low risk proposition where you are concerned.”

Sexually transmitted infections had not even been on Bailey's radar in all of her concerns about all of the unwanted penetration she would be experiencing. Asher had come across as if not a virgin, close to it, and Professor Jackson just seemed so upright and clean it did not seem like he could carry an infection. The old man, while he had been kind of gross just by virtue of being old, had given the impression that he had not had sex in years. The fact that Heron was pretty implicitly suggesting that it would be fine for the audience to infect Bailey with an STI felt like a whole new kind of horrifying.

Heron continue her spiel. “Would our demonstrators now kindly write their appraisals on the bodies of our contestant? Please make your answer is large enough to be easily read, but small enough to still leave space for others.”

Looking to her left, Bailey saw that Professor Jackson had written a four on Hannah. She wondered what he would have given her, and she realized that given she had written it on Hannah's ass, Bailey might never know even if she made her suck her off again—which he very probably would. Looking to her right, Lucky had his hand under Jayler, and was squeezing his balls to pop one out while he wrote something on it. For the first time, now Bailey noticed that Jayler had some kind of metal contraption on his penis.

“Jared?” asked Asher. “Do you want to write your rating on Bailey? Here, Bailey, sit up on your knees for a minute.” Bailey complied and Asher grabbed Bailey’s right tit and pulled it up. “Why don't you write it on here? The underboob is an often overlooked and underutilized canvas.”

Jared took the marker and ran a straight line across the underside Bailey's breast—which tickled a bit—and then another squiggly line. As she was visualizing the numbers, it occurred to Bailey that he could have written any of three, four, or five. She was relieved that at least it wasn't a one or two and also hated that he was getting to rate her oral skills publicly in this manner.

***

“Well folks, announced Heron, for those of you who can't see, Lucky and Jared have each awarded Miss Bailey and Mr. Jayler here five points, while out excellent Professor Jackson has awarded Hannah four. Since Jared and Professor Jackson know their contestants, that’s double, and since this is a demo—everyone else is getting triple. This puts Bailey in the lead with 30 points, Hannah as runner-up with 24, and Jayler holding up the rear with 15.

“Hey, no fair!” protested Jayler in a mock-offended voice. Bailey could see that he was smiling. Looking to her other side she saw that Hannah was glaring daggers at her.

“So our dear lovely audience, do you all think you understand the rules?” The audience were murmuring their assent. “Any questions?”

“Those big vibrators,” started a male voice. With horror, Bailey realized that it was Kermit. The boy who had stuck his fingers up her nose for shits and giggles earlier today. How had she not noticed him in the audience? “Do they affect the scoring system?”

Heron shook her head. “Not directly. We strapped them on and in to close off the extra hole that our two lovely ladies contestants have and make the contest more fair for Jayler here. The assortment of vibrating functions they come with is strictly for your fun and her pleasure, if you want to employ them. Fuck. Somehow Bailey knew that Kermit would discover the worst vibrator setting and use it on her—probably that one that sounded like a jackhammer.

“Well if there are no other questions,” said Heron, “please fill out your cards and hand them in, and then begin lining up behind the stage for the contestant you wish to use.” The beautiful couple were bringing a table out from the back to the front which Hannah now climbed up on. “Our lovely volunteer stage hands and ushers Percy and Lacey are setting up the tables for our contestants now.”

Bailey felt them coming up behind her and instinctively moved out of the way. Then they had put the table down and she realized she was expected to go up on it. Without even needing to be told, she stood up, got her knees on the table, and arranged herself as Hannah had. This had her sideways to the audience, facing the entrance. It also meant that she could not see Jayler without craning her neck.

Bailey looked now at the line forming up in front of her “station.” At the very front of her line was Lenny—the handsy slob from this afternoon. The old man from Bailey’s ‘walk’ earlier this evening was now joining it. Right behind her was Cassidy, who was strapping on a truly terrifying looking dildo—long and covered with a sharply raised spiraling pattern—as she chatted with the old gentleman. Kermit, to Bailey's relief was in Hannah's line, at least for now.

To Bailey’s surprise, Asher was also in Hannah's line—and wearing a strap-on. Asher had a penis, why was he using a strap-on? Especially given that the one that Asher was wearing looked like a pretty normal penis. Bailey knew all too well that after I had a fully functional penis of his own, so why would he use a fake one for this gameshow? And then she remembered how Asher had told her that his sexuality was about dominance and control. At the match and in the men's locker room after, asserting control over Bailey had meant showing he could use his own cock on her. But here, with six holes on three bodies open to all comers, evidently he was trying to prove something else. Asher’s prosthetic penis looked almost too normal. Bailey shuddered,wondering what unpleasant surprises it might hide.

And then, Bailey heard Heron announce “Let the games begin!”

***

Barely had Bailey processed Heron’s proclamation than Lenny had his cock in one hand, while with the other he was pinching her cheeks with the other, forcing her mouth open so he could get his cock in.

Lenny was dramatically different from Jared in practically every respect. With Jared she had had an established relationship and some basis of trust; whereas Lenny, her only relationship was him groping her so extensively while she was tied to the plant rack, he had knocked her over on her face. Jared had defaulted to using a condom but then had asked what she wanted when Heron called it into doubt; Lenny was all to happy to bareback her. Jared had been so uncertain about things that Bailey needed to initiate with him; Lenny had not only forced her mouth when she wasn’t fast enough, he was still holding her jaw like he didn’t entirety trust her not to back out of sucking his cock of he let go.

Sucking off Lenny was dramatically different from sucking Jared in practically every respect save one: both of them had taken advantage of the fact that Bailey had no right whatsoever not to suck them off if they decided to take advantage of it. But that one similarities among all the differences made it all the more painful. Of course Jared seemed like he did not know that this wasn’t what Bailey wanted, while Lenny seemed like he would not care.

But then, if Jared really liked her, really cared about her, shouldn't he be able to read what she wanted, even if he couldn't tell him? But then, she had told him: Heron have made Bailey send a video that made it look like she was really into her study-buddy sexually. He was responding to that, and Bailey's mother had always said that no man will ever pass up the opportunity to get his cock sucked—though, looking at Jayler, Bailey realized that by a woman was implicit in that statement.

Bailey felt kind of bad for Jay, looking at how short his line of three men and a woman in a strapon was compared to Hannah’s, but then she realized that he was still having the time of his life: Even if he lost, Jayler would still won: he would still have sucked off at least half a dozen dicks and probably had another half dozen in his butt. So pity Bailey herself then, with her line already at nearly a dozen—it seemed like an absolute majority of the audience was in line for her or Hannah.

As Bailey process this, she felt something warm and gelatinous and salty hit the back of her tongue, felt Lenny go flaccid, release his grip on her chin, and pull himself out of her. Remembering Heron’s warning about keeping the area around her clean, Bailey knew that she had no choice but to swallow, if she wanted any hope of winning this thing. And while her price would be sucking off Asher publicly, it sounded like she very much did not want to find out what losing would look like.

Already, another man was coming up behind Lenny. A complete stranger Bailey did not even feel the barest hint of recognition towards. And then, already, she felt him sticking something hard up her asshole: from strangers to buttfucking in record time. But now, this was just him lubing her up with a finger. As she felt his actual penis inside her thrusting rhythmically in and out, almost certainly without a condom, Bailey realized that the ‘stranger to assfucking’ timeline had been more like thirty seconds than twenty. And this was the her third penis in her of the evening—third out of how many? Was her line somehow growing longer? Was that Lenny, getting back in line already?

Chapter 27: Bitch Cassidy and the Sundown Kid

Summary:

Cassidy Jones—another of the girls Asher is hoping to convert—with a terrifying strap on and the old man with the German shepherd have teamed up to tag-team Bailey. Cassidy contemplates sharing a secret with Bailey, which Bailey hopes might be her 'in' to warn Cassidy—and by extension Farrin and the other three targets—that Bailey did not, in fact, throw her match with Asher on purpose.

After a few more dicks inside Bailey, Cassidy and the old man from the evening walk reached the front. “Woot, woot!” proclaimed Cassidy, in her terrifying strapon, “Bitch Cassidy and the Sundown Kid ready to fuck this joint up!” She then bent her head down to Bailey and said in a quieter tone. “That's what we decided to name our team. Jim here said that if I was Cassidy that must make him the Sundown Kid on account of his age. I told him I wasn't very butch, but I sure can be a bitch at times!”

“Well you seem very sweet to me,” said the man, Jim apparently.

He wasn’t wrong. Bailey absolutely would have described Cassidy as a little butch, indeed she would have described her as more of a butch than a bitch—her clowning always seemed like an attempt to be 'one of the boys,' but in spite of that, she’d always been chill and friendly towards Bailey. Except that apparently right now, Cassidy was about to fuck Bailey up the ass with a very intimidating strap on dildo, while Jim the Sundown Kid with the nosy German shepherd made her blow him.

Cassidy was standing to the side so that Bailey could see as she lubed up the dildo. Then, she felt Cassidy's fingers plunge into her rectum. “OK Jim,” she said, “I'm ready when you are!”

“I'm having a bit of a time getting it up, I’m afraid” said the old Man.

“Just put in soft,” said a male voice Bailey didn’t recognize. “She’ll get it up for you quick enough!”

“There’s a thought,” said the German shepherd-loving geriatric.

He took out his penis, which Bailey saw was flaccid and uncircumcised. Bailey opens her mouth and he put it in. Moments later she felt something hard and unpleasant going into her asshole. As Bailey made an attempt with her tongue to get the old man hard, Cassidy leaned herself almost on top of Bailey.

“Can you keep a secret, Bail my gal?” Cassidy asked.

Bailey nodded as well as she could with a dick in her mouth. As she nodded, she noted that he was starting to stiffen, and so she kept nodding until Cassidy was ready to continue.

If she could get Cassidy to pay attention to her, perhaps she could warn her that Bailey had not deliberately thrown the match as everyone thought, that Cassidy was at risk too. Even if Cassidy currently had a giant knobbed dildo up Bailey’s butt, it was on the basis of thinking Bailey wanted this. Even if Bailey thought this had been malicious mean girl shit on Cassidy's part, she still would not wish what she was going through on her worst enemy. And even if she did think karma meant Cassidy ought suffer the same fate Bailey was, there were still four other girls at risk who had done nothing to Bailey.

“This is actually the closest I've ever come to real sex,” Cassidy whispered into Bailey's ear. “I'm actually still a virgin. Not just technically a virgin, I've never even given a guy a handy. Well I guess after today I can say that I am only technically a virgin or maybe technically not a virgin. Do you know?” Bailey shook her head and old Jim’s cock finally came fully erect. She wondered if it was a coincidence that he only got hard when he had sort of shaking his penis like a dog with a toy.

“OK yeah, anyways what you are doing like it is so brave Bailey. I wish I had the guts to do what you did.” Bailey shook her head, wishing tears would come to her eyes to show Cassidy that it was not voluntary. But when she wanted tears, her eyes were dry. Cassidy misunderstood what she was trying to convey. “No.” she said, “really it is. I mean I guess I don't know that I would want to go through all of this maybe…”

It was an in!!! Bailey shook her head vigorously, to communicate her agreement that Cassidy should not want to be in her situation. That was enough for the old man to finally come in her mouth. She realized that she was genuinely surprised that old man semen did not seem to taste appreciably worse than young man semen. In fact, now that she thought about it, did even old man cock really taste noticeably worse than young man cock?

“You're right, said Cassidy. I definitely would not enjoy this from your end of things. But I just wish I was a little braver you know. I'm 23 and still a virgin, would you believe it? Yeah they say it's good for girls but I feel like a gal should have at least a little bit of experience at my age y’know?” At this point, Cassidy seemed to notice that Jim had finished and she stood back up and slapped Bailey on the flank where it met her butt. “Well good on you Bailey for taking charge of your sexuality!” she proclaimed—as if that was not the exact opposite of what had happened to Bailey. “You done, Jim? Our gal Bailey here do good?”

“Five out of five,” sighed Jim contentedly. “Best blow job I've had from a woman in a long time.” Was Bailey imagining it, or did he stress the word ‘woman’? Was this geriatric German shepherd enthusiast fucking his dogs after all? “How was it for you?”

Bailey realized that Cassidy still had the dildo buried up her ass as he asked that. “I dunno, Jim,” she said. “I'm so hard as a rock, I don't think I've come yet!”

Jim chuckled at that joke a joke that was all the more mortifying for Bailey that it was made while Cassidy's prosthetic cock was still just sitting inside her.

Evidently Cassidy decided that she wanted to actually make a good use of Bailey, and so she now began slapping Bailey's ass and making moaning noises as she thrust back-and-forth. The experience was painful for Bailey—there was none of the commingled pleasure that she felt with the studded grapefruit strapped in her pussy. Actually, as Cassidy's strap on hit Bailey's inverted strap on, Bailey realized she was getting a little bit of pleasure from down there, but not enough to outweigh the pain—the literal pain in her ass.

Eventually, however Cassidy decided that she had had enough. “Thanks Bailey, she said, this is been great and all. I'll probably be back for another round later, maybe with a new teammate, no offense, Sundown Kid!”

“None taken,” he chuckled. “I'm actually going to head out now, don't want the Missus getting suspicious. But thank both of you gals kindly, you've made my whole evening!”

“See ya around, Sundance kid!” called Cassidy.

As the old man headed for the door. Cassidy herself went off to chat with Farrin. Bailey could only hope she would get a chance to communicate with Farrin, because Asher seemed pretty confident she would buy the whole story about what Bailey was doing her. There was already another man pounding her in the ass, and Bailey looked out at the crowd to see that Lenny was getting closer again, Kermit was in Bailey’s line now, and Asher himself was next in Bailey’s line—wearing a strap-on. The worst thing about it all was that somehow the prospect getting fucked by Lenny again was the least objectionable of those two realizations.

Chapter 28: Asher's intermission with Farrin and Kermit

Summary:

Asher, Bailey, and Farrin have a conversation of sorts.

Notes:

This is possibly the last explicit chapter of the story. There are still hours to go of the game show, but I frontloaded the most interesting stuff involving actual sex acts and next chapter is skipping to the end to tally the winner. As I have things planned now, the rest of the story is emotional sadism without fucking, though I will probably work some fucking in as I write.

Asher climbed up on the stage, stuck his prosthetic cock up Baileys ass, and breathed a great sigh of contentment. And then, he just stood there, apparently doing nothing. Which Bailey started to find increasingly uncomfortable, but then she noticed Farrin coming over. She was torn between fear and opportunity. On one hand, even Professor Jackson had been a little bit worried Farrin might figure out Asher’s game. On the other hand, Asher was right there, able to observe any interaction Bailey had with her genius classmate.

“What is it Mr. …?” Farrin asked Asher. Bailey realized that the way she phrased that question suggested Asher had waved Farrin over. That was not a good sign, but if the attempt to outwit Farrin was a conspiracy between two men—even two men as smart as Dr. Jackson and Asher—well Farrin was smart too, and Bailey surely shared with her many woman’s experiences that neither of those men did.

“Asher,” he said, “you can call me Asher. Farrin, right?”

Farrin nodded.

“Bailey here said you were her smartest classmate, but she also thought you would be too much of a stick in the mud to show up for this.”

Ferrin looked at Bailey and Bailey shook her head fiercely.

“It seems like Bailey disagrees with that account of events.”

“Yeah said Asher, well she also disagreed pretty strongly with the idea that she threw two of three matches too me. Yet I can't really see any other explanation, much as I hate to admit it. Since you're smart and you know Bailey, I was hoping you might have some sense. Is it possible that she didn't actually want this?”

Farrin now examined Bailey closely. Bailey shook her head again vigorously, and now the tears were starting to come to her face.

“She definitely does not seem to be enjoying this at the moment,” said Farrin. “The most obvious alternative explanation is that you yourself threw two of the matches and are trying to lull me into a false sense of security about my upcoming matches with you.” Yes! Farrin had hit on the answer and would be able to warn the others. Bailey nodded enthusiastically, but Farrin’s eyes were on Asher right now.

“And the interesting thing about that explanation,” said Asher, “is that either confirming or denying it would seem to confirm it, would it not?”

“I think it would be more about the manner in which you sought to confirm or deny it,” said Farrin. “But of course, as you know, I have agreed to take this match with you only contingent on looking at your data for all of your matches.”

“That's right,” said Asher, “you are a data scientist aren't you?”

“Bioinformatician, I hope,” said Farrin. “Data science is just one of many things I need to learn for that. The thing that is striking to me about your data though is that it is very consistent with your opponents who lose to you throwing the match and not with you doing so.” Fuck. Supergenius Farrin was falling into the same trap Bailey had. Bailey shook her head vigorously, and then grabbed at Farrin’s arm to get her attention. “What is it Bailey?”

“I think she wants to warn you,” said Asher—the prosthetic cock still in Bailey's bunghole, “that she, unlike all the others, did not throw her match.”

Even though Bailey sensed a trap, she still nodded vigorously.

“Well the interesting thing about that, Bailey,” said Ferrin, now looking her square in the eye, “is that for most of these matches where a contestant lost, independently of one another it was very possible that it was just chance or that Asher was the one throwing the other matches. But with you, the pattern is so strong that it seems pretty much undeniable. In the two matches that you lost, you lost all your clothes, then came back to almost win, and then let Asher come all the way to a full win. Like it probably would not be statistically significant if I ran your matches just because of a such a tiny sample size, but as someone who has looked at a whole lot of data: the pattern is glaringly obvious.”

Bailey found that she now needed to use her own hair to wipe her tears from her eyes. In response to that, Farrin pulled out a Kleenex from somewhere and began to daub Bailey’s eyes as well.

“Look,” said Farrin, “I can see very clearly that you are not enjoying this and that whatever whim or imp of the perverse led to you throwing those matches, you now strongly regret it.”

Bailey started to nod, and then froze as she realized that Farrin had presupposed her still losing intentionally. And now she realized she was caught in a bind. The most important thing was to convince Farrin to drop out of her planned matches—and get the four others to do the same. But if she ‘admitted’ she had lost intentionally, there would be no apparent risk to Farrin, and Bailey had no idea how to convince Farrin that she had not lost intentionally. She shook her head vigorously instead.

“You don't regret it?”

Bailey shook her head, hoping that Farrin would understand that as ‘that’s not it’ and not ‘indeed, I don’t regret it.’

“You do regret it?”

Bailey nodded her head.

“But you still do maintain that you did not throw the match intentionally?”

Bailey nodded her head enthusiastically.

“Well that is certainly one data point I will have to consider. Thank you Bailey, thank you Asher.” Farrin then also started for the door. She left with that Asian girl whom Bailey did not know—but suspected was another of Asher’s targets. Bailey could only hope that that data point would make the difference. Or that maybe she could convince Cassidy or one of the others or…

Jared! Her former study buddy was standing awkwardly not quite in line, and Bailey noticed that with Asher essentially hogging her body, her own line had dwindled in favor of Hannah—who had a longer line, but a moving one. Lenny at least was out of line. But Kermit was still there.

***

“I'm gonna be here awhile,” announced Asher, evidently noticing the same shift in the lines as Bailey had. “If you wanna fuck a butt hole, I suggest using one of our other lovely contestants. But if anyone wants to use her mouth and doesn't mind sharing, I propose we form a de facto team?”

Kermit immediately had his hand raised, and of course Asher was calling on him.

“Can I turn on the vibrator?” he asked Asher.

“If you can fiddle with it without making me move, you're welcome to it,” said Asher.

Kermit did not need a second invitation, his hands were already working his way between the strap-on Asher wore over his pant and Bailey's naked body. In a moment, he had turned the vibrator on and changed the setting. As Bailey had feared it was the jackhammer. She thought that it might turn her entire pussy numb—and yet there was nothing she could do about it. Kermit then went back around and pulled out his cock. With enormous trepidation, Bailey opened her mouth.

Kermit grabbed Bailey's head and forced himself into her mouth, all the way back. The tip of his penis entered her throat, and Bailey found herself gagging. It was like she couldn't breathe, and Bailey was certain for a moment she was going to die. And then he was pulling out, already going soft. Kermit walked away without turning the vibrator back off, and Asher did not seem inclined to turn it off either.

But then, after what seemed like an infinity, Asher finally decided he had had enough of standing around behind Bailey with his fake cock in her ass. He pulled out and, as a final insult, wrote his rating of his sexual experience with Bailey on her belly. Bailey did not need to see anything to know what a single stroke of the marker meant. It felt like it almost would've been better if he had simply forgotten to rate her at all. One point probably would not make the difference, especially not compared to the advantage he had just handed Hannah by hogging Bailey's butthole.

Bailey also realized that Kermit had forgotten to rate her, and after that horrendous thing he'd done to her throat. Her only consolation was that perhaps Kermit had been equally absent minded with Hannah. But of course he had been earlier with Hannah, and Asher was not standing right there on the other end of Hannah, staring at him.

Asher did not turn off the vibrator as he left, nor did the next audience member, who made Bailey blow him, or the one after that, who fucked her in the ass. And then, next guy after that was Jared.

“Did you want the vibrator on?” Bailey’s former study-buddy asked her.

Bailey shook her head vigorously, And to her immense relief, Jared finally turned it off. It felt like Bailey's entire pussy was pins and needles as sensation began to return. And then, as she was still processing that relief, Bailey’s former study buddy now began pounding her in the ass with his very real and non-prosthetic cock.

Jared had gone from timid around Bailey’s naked body to unapologetic in the course of about an hour, although another nice thing was that he did throw his condom in the trash himself. Bailey looked up and noticed that both Lenny and Kermit were back in line. She shivered. It had been maybe an hour at most and Heron had promised what five hours of fucking her, more if the audience wanted it? Even if it had cost her points, Bailey realized, Asher's little intermission with Farrin, and later without her—at least up until Kermit—had been a sort of reprieve.

Chapter 29: Half-time & hints of sabotage

Summary:

When Bailey goes into the kitchen to get water at intermission, Heron presents this to Asher as Bailey rejecting his alcohol choices, which gives Asher an idea for a halftime show. She also discovers, shortly before blacking out, that Hannah has been sabotaging her.

Who would have thought that getting gang raped would become tedious? But after hours, everything started to blur together. Bailey made it to one intermission, where she realized that the space around her had several condoms laying around. The good news is she supposed what is that more of these men had used condoms then she had realized, evidently. It must be that these men were a lot more likely to use protection to protect themselves from her ass than to protect her from their jizz in her mouth. Just one more case of unfairness among many tonight.

Without asking for permission Bailey took advantage of the intermission to get down off her table to clean them up, noticing that Jayler and Hannah did not seem to have the same problem with their spaces. When she had finished, she noticed that Jay and Hannah had both gone over to mingle with the audience while getting drinks of something. Bailey decided to do the same, trying to ignore the fact that she was naked and colored among fully clothed people with the right to rape her for the next several hours, many of whom already had.

At the drinks table, Bailey discovered that there seem to be no non-alcoholic options among the drinks. She took one of the solo cups and headed to the kitchen. After feeling one cup and completely downing it, Bailey filled another and began drinking more slowly. She realized she had ravenously thirsty.

“Hey!” Heron interrupted Bailey’s first moment of peace since … when exactly? Possibly since she had sat in Heron’s lap on the car ride home. Bailey waved to Heron like it was no big deal and the obviously-hostile ‘hey’ was friendly, as she quickly gulped down her water and started filling a third cup. “What do you think you’re doing in here?”

Bailey raised a toast from her newly-filled third glass and downed it as quickly as possible, hoping for the love of God that Heron did not have the remote to her collar on hand or would not use it over this even if she did. In that small matter at least, she finally got lucky for once that day.

“You are getting yourself water?” Heron asked, like it wasn’t obvious.

Bailey nodded as she finished her cup and filled fourth cup to take back with her to the room.

“We have drinks in the game room,” said Heron coldly.

Bailey shook her head and pointed at the faucet.

“You just wanted water?”

Bailey nodded.

“The booze we had not good enough for you?”

Well there was another trick question that could not be answered with either a headshake or a nod, Bailey froze, and pointed again to the water.

“You just wanted water?”

Bailey nodded.

“You wanted to stay sober?”

Bailey nodded again, and this time decided to start back for the game room before Heron could grab her by the arm and drag her.

“What do you need to be sober for? You're not driving anywhere for years, you have nowhere you need to get yourself tomorrow, and you have no responsibilities that require you do you have a clear system until Asher gets you pregnant.”

Bailey attempted to shrug nonchalantly.

“You claim you aren't enjoying this, but you want to be sober for it?”

That sounded like a dangerous question, but Bailey cautiously nodded as she made her way back to the game room.

“Hey Ash!” shouted Heron “Your new fucktoy says your booze isn’t good enough for her!”

What!? Bailey realized that, until this point, she had never heard Heron blatantly lie before. She had heard the woman present the truth selectively and even misinterpreted, and of course she gaslit the hell out of Bailey's so hard that Bailey still wasn't sure if Heron knew that gaslighting was even what Heron was doing but the boldface like shocked her. Bailey started to issue a protest and feeling like she was being slammed into a wall reminded her that she still had that shock collar on and active.

“Well…” said Asher, with a contemplative look on his face that suggested he had something awful planned. “If you don't like the taste, there's an easy way around that…”

Bailey shook her head vigorously, even as she knew that it would only solidify him on whatever course of action he was mulling.

“Heron dear, would you kindly see if you can find me a funnel? If our hosts don't have one in the kitchen, I've got one I use for topping up oil in the back of my car.” Bailey felt a sinking feeling in her belly, even as she couldn't quite figure out what the implications were.

“I'll just go to your car,” said Heron, “I think your car is gonna care less if the funnel has been in Miss Bailey's butthole than our hosts will.” And suddenly Bailey realized what they were planning: they were going to make her consume alcohol through her anal cavity, something that several adults had given her dire warnings against when she was younger, because it bypassed the liver and got you really drunk, really fast, with a high risk of death.

“I'll buy them a new one before we leave,” said Asher.

Heron shook her head. “No, you won't. You will almost certainly forget.” Bailey now processed that Heron was more concerned about the future usability of a kitchen funnel than any possible implications of putting a motor oil funnel in her ass right now. Because the hosts were people they had a relationship with, and she was now just a toy Asher owned—a fucktoy, Heron had called her.

And Asher didn’t even own Bailey, he was renting her … like this house. But he cared more about keeping the house in good order than keeping Bailey’s body in good order. But then the owners of this house could still come after him for damages, and he had seemed very confident that Bailey would agree to become his property fully or he would destroy her in the attempt.

***

As Heron went out to the parking lot to look for Asher's oil funnel, Asher went around the room telling people that there would be a special halftime show and to bring any drinks they didn't finish or didn't think they would like. “Bend over and grab your ankles like you did this afternoon,” Asher ordered her. Bailey complied, noticing that it made the massive dildo strapped inside her readjust and feel unusually tight. And then, he ziptied her wrists to her ankles again.

By the time Heron returned with a bright orange automotive funnel, there was a crowd gathered in front of Bailey, eagerly awaiting the promised halftime show. She was not sure how much of the dizziness she was feeling was the blood rushing to her head and how much was anticipation. And then, with Bailey bound and upside down, showing her face and intimate areas to the audience simultaneously, Asher began his announcement, holding up the orange funnel.

“Well folks, it turns out that Miss Bailey LaFarge here doesn't really like the alcohol we have. Some of you, I imagine, share that opinion, but it sure would be a shame to let a good drink go to waste. So we are going to set things up so that Miss Bailey still has the opportunity of getting drunk without having my poor plebeian tastes ruin her refined palate, and y'all get to dispose of unwanted drinks without excessive guilt.”

Bailey now felt something hard going into her asshole and spreading it to the absolute limit, then pulling out again. She realized there was something still in her butthole, undoubtedly the orange funnel.

“No Heron here is a medical professional of sorts,” said Asher. “Consuming alcohol in this manner is usually in advisable, but Heron will say when Bailey has had enough. So if you want the fun to continue, if you want to put off the moment when Heron cuts y’all off I suggest you start with the dregs of your drinks.”

“And don't worry about a little ice,” said Heron, “that's part of the fun of going this route!”

Ice!? Heron was inviting them to dump ice in her ass? Was there no limit to what these people could come up with to torment her with? The realistic answer is that of course there probably was ... somewhere ... but there was seemingly a long way to go before Bailey found it.

As if on cue, Lenny stepped up. Of course it was Lenny. He poured something into the funnel, and Bailey felt something cold entering her rectum. But that was evidently just a cold drink. The next man to step up, a stranger, made a rattling sound when he poured his drinking and the feeling from inside Bailey suddenly got a whole lot colder.

To Bailey's pleasant surprise, Heron cut the crowd off far earlier than she was expecting, after a matter of mere minutes. Asher removed the funnel from her ass, but did not remove the zip ties and permit her to stand upright. Within minutes, Bailey found herself getting increasingly woozy and realized that the alcohol was already starting to enter her bloodstream.

As the next round of the contest started, Bailey maintained enough of her senses to observe that firstly Hannah was throwing the used condoms from the men using her towards Bailey—that bitch. And secondly, watching Hannah, she noticed that more men were using condoms when Hannah sucked them off than when Bailey did—indeed, except for Jared, Bailey did not think a single man had used a condom when she was sucking him off.

I wonder if that cunt Heron told them I like swallowing, Bailey wondered before her senses completely left her and the rest of the night passed in a blur.

***

Bailey woke up the next morning, if it even was still morning, lying naked and uncovered on a dog bed in the kitchen, cold and with what was by far the worst hangover of her life. As she pulled herself to consciousness, she saw that Jayler was sitting in a chair at the kitchen table wearing nothing but tight short-shorts, drinking what looked to be coffee.

“Welcome back to the land of the living Baisley-Paisley,” said Jayler. “Do you remember much after they boofed you?”

Bailey shook her head, which made the hangover way worse. “Well the good news is you won,” he said. “Runner-up, anyways, but I don’t think you really wanted the grand prize of publicly blowing Asher, seeing as you've been there, done that, lost the t-shirt. And I'm guessing you didn't really care about your clitoris either, not the way you were playing. Still, you beat me by one point if you can believe it.”

One point… Bailey looked down now at her belly to see the only score of “1” visible anywhere among all the markings on her skin. That single point Asher head given her had made a difference after all then. The difference in not losing to Jayler in a competition of how much men and a few chicks with strap-ons wanted to fuck them. And wait… what was this Jayler had just said about her clitoris?

As she was still trying to pull her thoughts together, Jayler was standing up and heading for the door. “Jare-bear!” he shouted, “your Bail-bond’s up!”

There was a thudding of feet, as Jared raced into the kitchen to see Bailey. 

Notes:

Don't worry, Bailey will get to keep her clitoris at the end of the story—or at least she won't lose it any more than she has lost the rest of her body.

At this point, I have a pretty good handle of how I want to end this story and I think I can manage it in five chapters, but that is going to mean writing all five chapters to figure out where to break it up. If I get long I will go longer than 34, especially if it's just one over because I want to still cut down chapter 18 and move what's left into chapter 17 and/or 19. As such, I will possibly be posting one more chapter that I have mostly written and then waiting for the last four or five until I have finished the story so I can decide how to divide it and have 34or 35 chapters.

Is it kind of dumb to try to structure chapter numbers around having 34? Probably. But it also is practicing planning in advance, which sometimes I do and sometimes I pants it. This story is an interesting mixture of stuff that I planned out or revised in detail, and stuff that I completely wrote and immediately published without any editing.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of Asher and his sex toys