Author’s note: This is another story inspired by the world of staciliv’s “Another Really Stupid Bet.” This harks back to her original story, “A Really Stupid Bet.” (Go read it now!)
Much thanks to kallyreys for editing.
————
Marketing communications consulting is bloody shark-infested waters roiling in a teapot. Firms are constantly gobbling each other, while staff jump ship at a moment’s notice for higher positions. You either ride your horse to the top of the ladder or fall off never to be seen again.
I have been at Stevens LLC for about three years and I was next in line to join the member ranks or join another firm. The sole woman member was Maggie S–, and everyone knew I wanted her slot, either by retirement or replacement. I was younger, wanted it more and I would do anything to get it.
Both our careers got sidelined when Miller & Associates bought us out. Suddenly we had to recompete for our jobs.
We all sat in the waiting room in our best professional suits with whatever props we thought would help us save our jobs. Even Maggie was included. Everyone thought even if she wasn’t rehired, she would have a good parachute or had enough saved up to start her own firm. Every eye was on her as she entered the board room. After a minute, she stormed out of the boardroom, running to the exit in tears. What a loser, I thought.
“Lisa L–,” said someone from the board room. Me.
I took a deep breath and entered the board room, ready to give a pitch about my favorite product, me. “I’m a winner and I deserve the best of everything!” I told myself.
Three men sat at the table. I recognized Dave R–, my friend Margo’s ex! He looked shocked upon recognizing me.
The man sitting by himself on the right in a tailored gray striped tweed suit stood up and gave his pitch, “My name is Mr. Bill and I’m here representing Miller & Associates. We deal with the most powerful interests in the world. Our reputation is in being NOT known. We leave the Fortune 100 to little fish like Stevens. We decided to acquire this firm because we believed this is the cheapest way to find top tier talent,” he said, emphasizing each word at the end.
He continued, “So Ms. L–, I’ll be frank, we’re looking for those who have the assets and naked ambition to win us business. It’s not going to be conventions, and cold calling. You’re going to be in the most exclusive circles of power. I don’t need the timid, squeamish or any thoughts of propriety. I need to know how far you’re willing to go to get the business.” He looked at the other man who nodded.
He sat back down. “We’re waiting Ms. L–.”
I knew what he meant. I tossed my notes on the desk and took off the jacket of my tailored Viggiatore suit. I removed my skirt, and blouse. The men made no comment, although Dave looked wide-eyed and nervous. I continued, removing my Chantilly bra and panties, showing off my neat Brazilian line over my pubes. I took a guess that I wouldn’t need to take everything off leaving me with my Wolfheim stockings and Tachona heels.
Not a single man made a move or blinked, not even Dave (although his mouth was open). When I approached Mr. Bill and dropped to my knees in front of him, he stopped me.
“No, Ms. L–, this is not about us. We are only interested in what assets we have available and your level of commitment to winning us business. Your presentation shows promise. Please get dressed and return to your office to complete your current accounts.”
I turned away and focused on dressing as quickly as I could to my relief and excitement, and a whole wet wave of arousal. The men waited patiently. The power in this room felt more exciting than my entire three years at Stevens.
Mr. Bill continued after I dressed. “We’d like to invite you to a special cocktail party engagement tonight at a potential client’s estate as a means to show your mettle on the field. You and other candidates we select will have the opportunity to represent Miller & Associates. Please do not let us down.”
“I won’t Mr. Bill!” I exclaimed. I was going straight to work, but already competing against others? I was going to make sure I show them I was worth keeping.
I strolled out of the room, past all the anxious stares to the lift, back to my office. Losers.
————
Dave caught up to me near the end of the day. We were both a bit awkward.
“Hey Lisa,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t know what the managers were planning. I swear.” He continued, “I’ll be your escort to the party. This is very private so we’re taking a disguised truck. Don’t bring your phone or wallet, just your keys. I’m absolutely serious.”
“Okay,” I said hesitantly.
“This is REALLY elite,” whispered Dave conspiratorially. “You have to wear your best next-to-nothing. Looking like a million dollars is going cheap. They won’t even let you in the door.”
“Don’t worry Dave, I got this,” I said confidently.
Dave’s expression changed to a pained schoolboy. “How’s Margo?” he asked.
Chicks before dicks, but Dave really looked sad. “She’s hurting Dave, she’s drinking and crying all night,” I said.
Dave winced, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened to her. Once we were both heading to the top, and then it felt like she was dragging me down. You know the feeling?”
I DID know the feeling. Margo was staying with me. I was coming home to her drunken mess nightly. Dave was a winner like me.
“I’ll see you tonight Dave.” I sent Dave off so I could concentrate on booking an emergency trip to the stylist.
————
In perfect hair and makeup, I put on my best cocktail dress & heels, took my clutch and waited. A large delivery truck pulled up to the curb. Splashed across the van walls was a picture of a bucking horse and ‘Semental Properties. Fresh Meat and Produce.’
The van door rolled up and the ramp dropped. Dave stepped out and waved to me in his cut Tonbo silk suit. He looked yummy. (Sorry Margo!) He waved. “Your carriage awaits milady,” he said with dramatic sarcasm.
I stuck my tongue at him. “A literal meat wagon. How romantic,” I said. I really shouldn’t be flirting with Dave with Margo weeping into her wine inside. I guiltily looked back at the apartment.
Dave got the message and put his finger to his lips and waved me into the van of the truck. There were about a dozen of us, nine women all dressed (or undressed!) and men in jackets. I recognized Cindy and Tina from work, but none of the other women.
Cindy was the last intern we hired before we got acquired. She was a long-legged, really young woman of Korean ancestry, I thought. She wore a tacky gold backless Shelah dress that showed off her legs. As skimpy as her dress was, she was the most covered of all of us.
Everyone knew Tina. She was the ebony goddess of Accounting. She had the looks and drive to be in Sales and Marketing, like myself, but I guess she didn’t want to compete with the sharks. Tina’s near-bald scalp glowed in the dim van light and she had a one-shoulder Revoluza. (How did she afford that on an Accountant’s salary?) It draped so low she had to tape her nipples. I should have gone as bold as her! She accessorized with strings of Bina wooden beads.
The van had some sort of A/C to circulate the air, but otherwise, it was a dozen people standing in an enclosed space and dim light. Loops hung from the ceiling, like the ones you find on a train or metro. Hooks hung from the right side of the van as you entered it.
We all stood and chatted in small groups, hanging on our own loop. Dave came up to me and we shared the loop. He looked me over and frowned.
“Not risque enough?” I asked, “It’s a $1,800 Lumina.” I glanced at Cindy in comparison.
Dave shrugged. “I’ve seen more and less. I’ve only been to a few of these since I joined the Ares Society.” He thought for a moment. “Hey, give me your clutch,” he said.
“You don’t trust me?” I asked archly.
“Well,” he started sheepishly, “I WILL check, but they usually take away everything a woman has in the dressing room. I’m not really sure how you get your stuff back.”
“What about cards or notes?” I asked
Dave shook his head. “This is social business. It’s all about seeing and being seen. There are no speeches or presentations to worry about.”
I gave Dave my clutch. He opened it in front of me, took a quick glance and put it into his coat pocket.
We stood together silently in the truck for a while.
“Did you ever bring Margo?” I whispered.
“No,” Dave said, shaking his head. “This is really for work and besides,” he paused, “She wouldn’t be up for the crowd. You’ll see.” I thought this was totally unfair. Margo was far from frumpy when she wasn’t a crying mess. We were all lookers when it was girls’ night out.
The truck arrived and the door swung open, and the ramp lowered. This was an estate! A large mansion and grounds sprawled before us. We were at some sort of service entrance on a lower level. Men in black vests guided us down the ramp, politely holding out their arms in white gloves. The men were guided to the left and the women to the right.
“I’ll catch up with you,” shouted Dave, just before we were separated.
We were led into a large room that resembled a costume room. Makeup tables were along the right wall, long rows of coats and furs were in the center and shelves of shoes were on the left. The servants left us with the wardrobe manager.
“Yes. No. Give her a touch up. Good evening Madame, please go ahead.” The manager in a custom cut silk suit conducted the flow of feminine guests. He went through our group sending us in different directions.
“Almost,” said the manager approaching Tina. He reached through her beads and gently removed the tape covering her nipples. “We’re all adults here,” he said. He reached out his hand and an attendant handed him a domino mask. The manager gently covered Tina’s face and smiled, “Enjoy your evening miss.” Tina was led away.
The man looked at Cindy’s ensemble in disgust. He grabbed her purse and motioned for two attendants to approach. “See if we can find a use for her,” he instructed the attendants who drew her off in a direction hidden by a coat rack. Cindy stumbled off with the men looking confused. The manager tossed her purse in a corner and I was thankful Dave held my clutch.
The manager stopped and scrutinized me. “Delightful figure in awful packaging,” he said. He reached up to my neck and ripped my dress off! He tore it away so I would have to step out of it. He looked down at my feet. “We’ll save the shoes for clubbing. Come with me.” I followed him in my Vivi thong to the wall of shoes.
The manager looked around and found a pair of buckled high heels and led me to a chair, handing me off to an attendant and returning to the center of the room. I rolled on a pair of knee highs. The attendant knelt near me and helped me switch out my shoes, buckling my feet into the heels. I had a feeling these shoes were custom-made. The attendant led me back to the wardrobe manager.
The manager draped some long strings of various wooden trinkets around my neck. They did nothing to hide my breasts. The embarrassment and excitement at being stripped hardened my nipples, now pointy hard tips. The necklaces draped between my breasts down past my belly button just above my thong. The manager gently parted my hair and placed a bright-blue domino mask over my eyes.
“Good luck!” The manager smiled and handed me off to an attendant who led me through the main door to a small lift room. We took the lift down.
We exited the lift into a huge gymnasium. It must have been the size of a soccer field! The center of the room was a wooden-floor track with a high domed ceiling spanned by a spiderweb of pulleys and tack. Along the perimeter of the track ran a space where the guests gathered. It had a lower ceiling than the track, further divided by columns and arches running along the edges of the track.
Along the two lengths of the track, chained to each column was a near-naked masked woman in buckled heels like mine. They were all topless, or perhaps had a demi-cup harness in the case of the well-endowed, and a tiny thong. Each had a length of chain running from a hook high on the column to a collar, loose enough for them to sit against their respective post. The women stood or crouched in various positions, like animated decorations. I counted 23 women, with one conspicuously “empty” column.
I walked up to Dave who seemed startled at first, not recognizing me.
“I might have to borrow your jacket on the way home,” I whispered in his ear. His gaze ran up and down my nearly nude form and I could easily see the want before Dave caught himself. I noted he had stopped wearing his wedding ring and his “band tan” was nearly gone.
“Let’s catch up to the others,” Dave said quickly and guided me over to an obvious masked Mr. Bill and the other man who did the interviews today. Tina was already there, champagne flute in hand.
Mr. Bill nodded with approval. “Come, let’s circulate,” he declared.
Our group mingled with the crowd. You might think two near-naked women would stand out in the crowd, but we fitted in perfectly. There were other women who were completely nude except for jewelry. There were women completely dressed in clothes that magazine cover models could only dream about. A few women (I think) wore those black Middle Eastern burqas. Two grande dames wore elegant dresses with a walker and wheelchair.
Surprisingly you could tell who the servers were because they were fully dressed and unmasked. The men wore white shirts, white gloves with black vests and slacks. The women wore conservative French maid uniforms: black knee-length dresses with white trim, white gloves with sleeve garters. They even had those silly frilly white headbands to keep their hair in place. To my shock, I thought I spotted Cindy among them, looking frightened with her tray collecting and serving small plates of food and drinks.
Mr. Bill led us through the crowd, pausing to greet various people. They were a myriad of ages and nationalities. Some spoke through quiet interpreters. No names were spoken and no matter how carefully I tried to follow the conversation, I could not fathom what businesses or industry the various people were in. All I could do was try not to stare too long at the cut of clothes and jewelry.
After we strolled for some time, Mr. Bill turned to us. “Excellent work everyone. I think we made a good impression. We should have a line or two out. Feel free to enjoy yourselves and the entertainment.”
Dave and I split off from the other three. We grabbed a few plates and drinks and strolled. We saw teams of people move up to the chained women, removing them stumbling awkwardly from their posts. We suddenly found ourselves surrounded by servants.
“Here’s 24, but she’s not ready,” said one of the men. Before I could say anything, I felt my beads being removed and a collar locked around my neck with a leash jingling around my collarbone. “Let’s get you prepared,” said the man who held my leash, drawing me away from Dave.
Dave started to protest, when I heard someone say to him, “Don’t worry, you can participate as one of the beaters in the qualifiers.” Then I lost sight of him. I was too busy trying to keep up with my handler in my heels to look around.
I was dragged back to the dressing room with the other women. A different wardrobe manager fussed over us, wiping a sweaty body here, demanding a touch up there. We were all fitted with leather harnesses, which crisscrossed between the breasts down to a ring at the small of the back. A tight leather belt went around my waist. My thong was removed and a strap went between my legs over my Brazilian line, between my lower lips, up my crack to hook to the ring in the back. It was a little stimulating to move in, but the harness actually helped keep my posture straight. Leather garters went around my thighs with small chains connecting to the belt. Everything was tightened to the point where I could barely breathe in it. Finally matching ankle and wrist cuffs completed this new ensemble.
After everyone was strapped in, we were divided into groups of six. I was added to the fourth group. Once we were arranged in two rows of twelve across the room another man, addressed us.
“Thank you, ladies, for participating in the first round of this season’s races. Every season brings more competitors, every round gets more stringent. The rules are simple: two laps around the track. The first three of the heat to pass their finish marker move onto the next round.”
They rearranged the lines into our heats, taking the first group to the track. I thought about complaining, telling them I wasn’t competing, but I wasn’t sure how that would reflect on Miller & Associates. Besides, all I had to do was beat three of these girls and I could laugh about it afterwards. I stood looking at my competition, who moved nervously. I was the tallest, which meant I had a longer stride. Two of the girls looked like this was their first time in heels, while I’d sprinted across airports in heels as high as these. By this time I was used to the nudity, almost reveling in it. I had a knockout body and everyone would know it.
About 15 minutes later, the second heat left a few minutes before the women in the first heat returned, sweaty, breathless but excited. Attendants swarmed over them with towels and drew them off to the side. The third heat was moved to the entrance, then the racers were ushered out of sight. A few minutes later the second heat returned.
I waited impatiently near the door. We started getting anxious, even I started stomping in place. Someone peeked through the door and nodded.
A pair of attendants led each of us through the door to a lane on the wooden track. I was lead to a starting place. The attendants hooked my harness to bungie cords hanging above me.
“This will prevent you from falling too hard, but don’t lean too much and be careful not to get entangled with the other girls,” instructed one of the attendants. The attendant linked my wrist cuffs to the belt with about two feet of light chain. That allowed me to swing my arms naturally, but I couldn’t bring them above my head. I knew this meant this race was a fast walk, not a run.
I was in the middle of the group on the starting line. I saw the girl on the outside track crouch like she was going to sprint. That was stupid in heels. I kicked my feet a bit to relax and straightened up. “I’m a winner and I deserve the best of everything,” I thought. I told myself this was going to be just a brisk walk.
The announcer walked to the center of the track. “All right ladies, this is a qualifier, you must be one of the first three to cross your finish marker on the second lap. Stay in your lane. Rewards are based on place, but only the first three will move on!” My ears perked up at the idea of a reward. I almost missed the announcer say, “Ready? Set! Go!”
Sure enough, Miss Track-Star stumbled, saved from nose-diving into the floor of the track by her harness. She hung and spun, knocking the girl next to her. I deftly sidestepped and started my walk. I imagined it was a Black Friday sale, or speed walking to a connecting flight.
I kept myself straight and my hips loose, concentrating on placing each foot in front of me. I soon had a long lead ahead of the others. I could hear the clacking of their heels behind me.
“Second lap!” I heard the announcer from the center of the track. I didn’t lose my cool, I kept my pace, panting lightly. I was far enough ahead I could see Miss Track Star stumbling at the rear of the group.
I never quite caught up to her before I crossed the finish line into the arms of my attendants. They led me back to the changing room while I was slowly coming down from that adrenaline high. They quickly removed the harness, cuffs and collar, and wrapped me in a towel. I didn’t realize I was so winded and sweaty.
“Congratulations, Miss!” said the manager. He handed me a thick envelope. “Here is your reward for first place. You are also invited to our next race.”
Somehow they located my original shoes and led me back to the delivery entrance. I tucked the envelope under my left arm and covered my breasts and pubes while I looked around. Dave spotted me and graciously gave me his jacket. Both of us were bright-eyed and excited.
“Wow, you were a model or star! I could hardly take my eyes off of you. I think everyone was impressed.” He whispered. Then he impulsively kissed me. Flush with victory, I leaned into the kiss, giving Dave a bit of tongue as a tease.
Dave pulled back. “Sorry,” he apologized, “Caught up in the moment.”
“It’s okay,” I said, “it’s my victory kiss.”
Dave kissed me again, a little kiss, “Here’s to many more.”
Neither Tina nor Cindy were in the truck on the ride back. When the truck stopped at my place, I quickly gave Dave back his jacket. “Here goes nothing!” I whispered to him. I streaked across the front lawn to my door, my clutch and envelope in one hand and my keys in the other. I unlocked my door, dashed inside, and slammed it behind me, heart pounding. Margo must have already gone to bed.
————
I was called into the boardroom the next day. Once again it was Mr. Bill, Dave and the other man. Mr. Bill started, “I want to thank you Miss L– for representing us last night. Miller & Associates maintains its high reputation. You and Miss T– (Tina) embodied what we can provide. Miss H– (Cindy) has found employment elsewhere.”
“Thank you sir,” I said. Cindy didn’t have what it took. Loser.
“We were made aware of your wardrobe issue,'” Mr. Bill continued. “We will give you a clothing and housing stipend so you can look and possibly entertain as a representative of Miller & Associates. Welcome aboard.”
“Thank you again sir!” I said. I had already ordered a $2,000 replacement for my dress. The envelope from my race contained $10,000 in cash! And now I had a stipend that would allow me to look like a real winner. Things were looking up!
“One more thing, Miss L–,” said Mr. Bill.
“Yes sir?” I asked.
“While we were impressed by your race, Miller & Associates neither condemns nor condones your participation. In other words, whether or not you raced or continue to race, does not affect your employment here. We will adjust accordingly,” Mr. Bill finished.
“I understand sir,” I nodded. I was already planning on doing the next race. How did I get in touch with the people who ran it? Maybe Dave knew.
————
Dave knocked on my office door later, delivering the employee package for Miller & Associates. I couldn’t believe this was for a non-member! I would be given a luxury apartment in a building owned by them. I could choose from several company cars. I had my eye on a sporty Edison 7 convertible. I would have free healthcare after I got a thorough exam. I was assigned a personal stylist who would purchase my wardrobe for me each season.
After we went through the perks package, Dave asked me, “So, are you going to race again?”
“I would like to,” I admitted, “But I have no idea how to get in touch with the people in charge.”
Dave smiled, “It’s the Ares Society. Mr. Bill and I are members, but I really just joined,” he said self-depreciatively, but then continued, “I think I can get us in, though.
“Please do,” I implored. “Partners in crime?” I offered my hand.
Dave took it and kissed my knuckle. “Absolutely,” he said. How did Margo lose him?
————
A month passed. I moved into the company apartment. It turned out Dave also lived in the same building. When the next event date came up, we both waited in the parking lot under the building. I had a $3,000 Martinara dress on, hopefully it wouldn’t get torn off. I gave my key cards to Dave for safekeeping. I had been spending a lot of time with Dave. (Sorry Margo!) He helped me move in and we had pizza delivery for dinner.
We rode with a smaller group of strangers in the closed van. I noticed there were three pegs at waist level on the right wall of the van, jutting out like erections. If I leaned too far against the side, I might get an unwelcome poke!
We arrived at the estate again and Dave wished me luck as we were separated. This time the wardrobe manager guided me to a group of attendants. My dress and accessories were removed and carefully hung on a rack, leaving me in my thong. I was sat down on a stool while a stylist put my hair into a ponytail and a light oil was massaged into my skin. They swapped out my shoes and hosiery again. Then I was led into the track area where I was chained by my collar to a column with my mask, thong, hose and heels. Now I was a decoration! Eventually every other column was occupied by a near-naked collared woman.
I watched idly as the party progressed. I could lean comfortably against the column or walk around it to a certain extent. People would stop by and gaze at us, perhaps making bets. They would get close but nobody touched me. Bored, my gaze followed the more interesting guests. A gaggle of CCP delegates walked past me. I saw a group of swarthy men wearing gold rings and chains that were the closest things to two-legged-sharks I had ever seen. I thought I saw Dave and Mr. Bill once or twice. We were all briefly removed from the column to relieve ourselves and enjoy a light snack in a small room on one of the sides, before returning to our stations. Despite the menagerie of wealth, I was only looking forwards to the race.
Finally, we were gathered and led into the dressing room. This time, the dozen of us were split into two heats, harnessed and lined up. I was in the first heat.
The referee addressed us, “Welcome, ladies, to the second race. You all did marvelously well in the first qualifier. The race is two laps, just like before, and we’re only taking the first three from each heat. We’re going to increase the rewards, so let’s also up the ante: We’re going to add a little bondage to the mix, nothing too extreme. You’ll all be gagged. This will really affect your wind, so pace yourself. Now is the time to quit while you’re ahead.”
One of the girls in the other heats walked off. Too bad for her, but my heat still had six girls. I opened my mouth to accept the small ballgag. I tested how it felt. My lips were going to be very dry. I was going to have to force myself to inhale through my nose, but it was like training for Track.
We were led onto the track. Once again, I was in the middle. This time they hooked my wrists directly to the belt. I felt them attach the straps from the ceiling to my harness. This time I might need them since I had no way of stopping myself if I fell. I would stick to my game plan: Walk fast, breathe through the nose and win. I gave myself my line, “I’m a winner and I deserve the best of everything.”
When the announcer said ‘Go!’ I started my walk. I thought it took 200 steps to go once around the track at full stride. I looked in horror as the girl on the inside track–another leggy blond, took a good lead ahead of me. I calmed myself and kept my stride, breathing through my nose and making sure every step was sure. Things felt a bit off since I couldn’t swing my arms naturally, but I kept my hips moving.
I couldn’t catch up to the blonde even on the second lap. She was always about six feet ahead of me. Meanwhile I could hear someone right behind me to my right breathing hard. Then I felt something catch my right heel.
Fuck! I tripped and spun. As I fell, I felt the straps from the ceiling hold my weight, keeping me upright as my legs folded. I saw the smirk of the large brunette pass me as she marched on. That bitch tripped me!
I stood up. Fortunately these heels were solid. I could hear the clacking of heels behind me catching up. Breathing heavy, I started my stride again. This time I had two people ahead of me.
I never caught up with either of them, but I came in third easily. I glared at the brunette in second place while we were toweled off and everything was removed. I was surprised how that little strap on the harness left me more than a little wet. I slipped my dress back on, but left my thong in my hand to prevent it from being soaked.
I took another envelope with me back to the truck where Dave was waiting. The light inside the van was dim, and everyone seemed occupied within their own groups.
Dave fumed. “I saw what happened. I talked to the referee but he said that you qualifying for the next race is really all that mattered. He said the final winner gets to go to Mexico.”
I thought about the last time I went to Mexico, back when Staci, Maria, Margo and I were all free. Staci and Maria had gone back and not returned.
I was still a bit randy and Dave looked tempting.
“Was I still hot despite coming in third?” I asked Dave archly, letting go of the strap and embracing him.
“Baby, you’re my number one!” said Dave, embracing me tightly with his free arm.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” I purred.
“I do,” he winked back at me.
I took his arm around me and moved his hand to my mound so he could feel how slick I was. He got the message and gently caressed me. I was having none of this gentle crap. I hooked a leg around his waist and grounded a quick orgasm against his hand.
I stepped back, lowering my leg. I felt one of the pegs on the wall. It gave me an idea. I crouched and started licking the peg, looking over my shoulder. Dave gazed at me hungrily. I leaned over and sucked down as much of it as I could, bent over showing Dave my tight ass. When I brushed against Dave, I distinctly felt his erection.
“Do I get any of that?” Dave asked in a whisper. I grinned and turned around, still crouched. I unzipped him and fished his cock out of his boxers. I gave him my million-dollar blowjob, ignoring everyone else in the van cab. And yes, I landed a million dollar account because I’m really a winner.
————
I won $5,000 for third place. It made me furious to think about what second and first were awarded. I demanded Dave let me know when the next race was. I knew the blonde and brunette were going to be in the next race and I promised myself I was going to win first. I seethed at my column while I was on display.
I listened carefully to the referee with the other five girls in the dressing room.
“Ladies, you are almost there,” he said. “This is the semifinals. Only three of you will compete for the final prize,” he said. We were rapt with attention. “Once again you be harnessed and gagged. To make it more sporting, the race will be three laps. That should give the ones in the rear more time to catch up. For some additional motivation, we’re adding ‘beaters’ to the race to motivate you. After the second lap, the beaters will join the race. If they catch up to you on their second lap, you can expect to feel this,” The referee held up a leather strap. “So finish quickly ladies. Ah, here come the beaters. Hopefully you WON’T get to know them better.”
A group of near naked men walked into the room and lined up behind us, each carrying a strap. I glanced behind me. IT WAS DAVE!
————
I had no intention of losing nor having Dave catch up to me. I pushed my way to the inside of the track, much to the consternation of the blonde. I had been training, running with a mask, practicing in heels. I told myself, “I’m a winner and I deserve the best of everything” and we were off.
I took a good head start, thanks to being on the inside track, but Blonde and that bitch Brunette were hot on my heels. That was my plan though. We all kept pace all the way to the second lap. I heard the softer, heavier steps of the beaters on the track. They must have been barefoot or wore sneakers. I waited until I was a quarter into the second lap, then executed my plan.
I slowed and sidestepped. Blonde passed me, neck and neck with brunette. I took smaller, quicker steps right into the blonde’s track. I hit her right between the shoulder blades with my shoulder and kicked out her left heel. The girl dove headfirst into Brunette and both fell, tangling their lines. I resumed my trek by myself, starting the third lap a good half lap ahead of the rest.
I heard heavy steps coming up behind me. I focused on my walk. I wasn’t lapped yet, so I should be safe. Sure enough, the beaters jogged past me, trying to catch up with their respective girls. Dave ran past me, wearing a tight swimsuit, socks and running shoes.
“Good move on the competition! Hurry up or I’ll use this on you!” He slapped the strap in his hand and passed me. I kept an eye on the men as they ran around the track. Soon I heard muffled cries as they caught up with the slower girls. As I rounded the track to the finish, I heard the soft footfalls getting closer behind me. It wasn’t close enough though. I crossed the finish line unmolested into the awaiting attendants.
Excited and more than a little aroused, I reunited with Dave in the van cab of the delivery truck. He grinned.
“How’s my winner?” he asked. Then he gave a hungry look, “All I could think about was catching up to that very fine ass.”
I embraced him tightly, then gave him a deep kiss. “I’m right here,” I said into his ear. “Give it to me!” I turned around and grabbed the center penis peg. I tossed up my dress and looked back at him expectantly.
Dave let go of the strap and loosened his trousers. Then he sank into me with a deep thrust. Oh yes, I was soaking and it felt so good! I arched my back and moaned as he rutted within me.
————
I couldn’t stop smiling as I exited the apartment building lift. Dave lived several floors above me. I could feel a slight trickle of semen and girl juice running down my thigh. I tore open the envelope and counted thirty thousand dollars.
“I’m a winner,” I told myself in the mirror as I got ready for bed. “And I’m worth it.”
————
The weeks passed like a dream. I closed out all my old Stevens accounts and attended more of the strange parties, nearly naked on the arms of Mr. Bill or Dave. I saw Tina a couple of times and a couple of women from work that I didn’t know. I hadn’t seen Cindy since the first night.
I made excuses why Margo couldn’t move in with me. It would have been too awkward running into Dave, who just took her to the cleaners in the divorce. I convinced her to go on a long vacation, the longer the better and promised to help her find a new place when she got back.
I had the best of everything. I drove the company car on long trips on the weekend to show off. I had a professional interior decorator find good handmade Italian furniture for the apartment. My walk-in closet was as big as my living room in my old apartment. I rarely wore the same dress in a month.
Dave and I were fuck buddies. Occasionally we ended up jogging together, followed by sweaty sex in my foyer. Or we’d do dinner together after work, at the latest sushi or tapas bars. Always with bedroom expectations. Always at my apartment. I even gave him a spare key card. We never did anything at work, not even in passing.
———–
Dave said the final race was this Friday. I had kept up my regime, my drive (and sex drive) were at their peak. A vacation in Mexico and another $30,000 or more sounded like a wonderful end to this interesting game.
I went up early to Dave’s apartment in slippers, robe & key cards. After all, my costume was going to be provided at the track. I knocked on the door three times before Dave answered. This time he was just in a T-shirt and jeans. He led me to the kitchen.
“Want a drink before we go?” he asked.
“No thanks,” I said. “They feed us about an hour before racing.”
“Okay,” said Dave, “Wait here. Let me just get my wallet.” He headed for the bedroom.
I looked around the kitchen. It had a similar layout to my own. What had taken Dave so long to answer the door? I thought I smelled a woman’s scent. It wasn’t Margo’s soft soap, but it was definitely a combination of perfume and sweat. Was Dave seeing someone? It wasn’t like we were committed to each other, but a girl should know where she stands.
“Thanks for waiting,” said Dave, putting on a windbreaker. He smiled and led me to the door with a hand at the small of my back. We took the lift down to the garage, Dave dressed casually and me in my robe and slippers. I handed Dave my key cards and he pocketed them.
————
I was the only woman in the van cab on the ride to the estate. There were two other men in T-shirts and jeans, with a few boxes in the back of the cab. Underneath each of the three dick pegs on the right of the van were saddle-like seats about a foot off the ground.
“What are those for?” I asked the men.
“It’s a special transportation seat,” said one of the men. “Give it a try.”
Bored, I straddled the middle saddle and sat down. It was a little low to be comfortable. The angle of the saddle made me lean a bit forward, over a gap in the center of the saddle. My head was at the height of Dave’s crotch. He gave me an inquiring look, but I shook my head. Maybe after the race and as long as he didn’t strap my ass.
I got up from the saddle and shared a standing strap with Dave. Nobody said anything for the rest of the trip.
————
Dave squeezed my hand to say “good luck,” as I was led to the changing room. This time we went straight to preparation. Blonde and Brunette were there. This was the Grudge Match. We lined up for the referee:
“All right ladies, it’s time for the final race. At stake is a trip to Mexico. This race is going to be different: first of all, we’re going to stagger you around the track, so pay attention to your own finish marker. That should prevent any ‘accidental’ collisions.” The referee glared at me and Brunette. “We’re also going up the ante with a nice teaser belt and partial blinders to keep your focus. The race will only be two laps this time. Your beaters will join the race at the beginning of the second lap with the straps. This is it ladies! I want to thank you for your participation.”
An attendant applied a generous amount of gel around my nether regions, especially coating my lower lips. “You’ll need to be nice and slick,” he whispered to me. They stepped me into the leg holes of the teasing belt and moved it up, flush against me, gusset pressing hard into my center before locking in the small of my back. My wrists were attached to the belt at my waist and the ballgag was strapped in my mouth. The blinders felt like a wide visor, just blocking out my peripheral vision, but I could see directly in front of me with no problems.
I started feeling the belt as I was led onto the track. A rough ridge on the belt pressed against my clit. Each step moved the ridge back and forth, stimulating me. By the time I reached my place on the track I was trembling with arousal. While the attendants strapped me into the ceiling harness, I looked around. I had to really turn my head to spot Blonde and Brunette on the track. We were equally spaced apart and probably wouldn’t meet up unless someone waited for some time. There were no partygoers, nobody was watching. What was going on?
The attendants left me, then I felt a stroke of the strap on my ass. I whimpered and jumped, turning around. Dave was grinning at me, strap in hand.
“Just a taste of things to come slut!” he said. “I’ll be waiting for that second lap.”
I was shocked at his tone. Slut? But before I could really dwell on that the announcer yelled, “Go!”
The race was a nightmare. If I took my usual stride or a fast pace, I was teasing myself to a shuddering orgasm from the belt. I had to slow down several times with mincing steps just to give my clit some time to recover. I walked unsteadily on weak knees. I knew I wasn’t walking straight on the track, but between that belt and the blinders, “forward” was only a general direction. I used the beaters patiently waiting on the track as guides, aiming towards Dave as the finish marker. The beaters whistled and commented on our wet thighs and wiggling asses. I ignored their insults.
I came just as I passed Dave. I tried to sink into a crouch to rest for a bit, but the harness kept me from doing more than bending my knees.
“Stay right there whore, I’ll be right back,” sneered Dave as he jogged past me. Dave’s change in attitude made me feel like I was alone. I felt like crying. I got my feet under me and started walking, whimpering as my clit was teased.
When I came again, I broke down. My clit was sore and I was alone. I flailed my wrists uselessly at my waist. I decided to walk off the track. Fuck this race, I’d gladly take third.
SLAP! A line of fire lit across my ass.
“Come on slut,” shouted Dave. “Keep walking.” He tapped the strap on the outside of my right thigh.
My fingers writhed helplessly as I walked. Dave kept me going with little swipes on my thighs, back and ass, making cruel remarks:
SLAP! “Walk straight slut!”
I tried slowing down. SLAP! “Don’t quit so soon, we have a long way to go.”
SLAP! “Wriggle that ass!” ordered Dave.
After a particularly cruel slap between my legs, Dave would dangle the strap just behind me. I could feel it rubbing against the inside of my thighs. I winced when it disappeared in anticipation of another painful slap. I stumbled on, feeling another orgasm building.
Whenever I came, Dave would let me pause, rocking back and forth, bending over as much as I could. Then he grabbed my hair, lifted me up straight and laid a hard stripe on my ass cheeks. I cried as loud as I could in pain and humiliation and stumbled on.
At a certain point I realized this wasn’t a race. I must have done more than two laps a long time ago. All I knew was walking until I came, then resumed walking after cumming. I let Dave determine where I had to go and when. He slapped my ass, thighs and back over and over while telling me what a sorry slut I was. I whimpered and cried in protest, but mostly I came over and over.
————
They marched us through the dressing room back into the van cab of the delivery truck. I saw Blonde ahead of me, her wrists chained just above her head to one of the hooks. One of the men removed her belt and helped her step out of it. He attached a length of chain to her ankles.
I turned around and grunted at Dave to take off my own belt off to give my clit a break. He gave me a fresh swat, causing me to swear behind the ballgag.
“Shut it whore! You’re on our timetable.” He unlocked my wrists and connected them in front of me. He ran a chain from my wrist to the middle hook, lifting them above my head. Dave left me and moved to the back of the trailer, hanging the strap and grabbing some small boxes. He handed the first man a the box that said 70, then handed the box that had 72 to another man who came up behind me with Brunette.
Dave showed me the box. “We have a bunch of prizes just for you,” he laughed. He reached inside and showed me a dog tag that said “71” before clipping it onto my collar. He connected my ankles with about two feet of chain.
“We’re shipping you off to Mexico as fresh meat. But don’t worry, we got you something to keep you from being bored!” He showed me a long thick dildo. He turned me around, thrusting my head between my arms to look down at the saddle. With the help of another man, they removed the saddle seat, attached the dildo then threaded it through the saddle, pointing up obscenely.
I felt lifted slightly, then someone grabbed the chain between my ankles and folded my legs. I was spun around, hanging from my chained wrists to a the hook on the cab ceiling. Dave and another man brought me down gently onto the dildo, the shaft fully impaling me until I rested on the seat. I felt my ankle chain being hooked over the dildo peg on the wall behind me while the chain on my wrists was adjusted until all most of my weight rested on the saddle and dildo. I couldn’t move with my arms stretched and my knees folded.
Dave worked a leather half-hood over my head. The last thing I saw was his smug sneer. He said, “You were a great fuck Lisa, not like mopey Margo. I should have had an affair with you a long time ago. I’ll think of you while I bang Penny, who’s been waiting for me since we left.” (Penny was in Legal like Dave.) Then as an afterthought he added, “I’ll let Mr. Bill know you’ve decided on a different career path. They’ll handle the transfer paperwork and I’ll get a bonus.” I heard him laugh. “I’ll recommend Penny for your apartment. I’ll get her interested in racing too.”
I suddenly realized I had nothing: The apartment, car and clothes were the firm’s. I was being kidnapped. I also betrayed Margo, one of my best friends, for her asshole ex, and sent the only person who would care about me away for weeks. I lost everything for this stupid race, including myself.
Maybe I deserved it.
FIN