Enslaved - Love in the Future Pt. 10

The winner is...

Meena didn't get a single chance to wear her sexy new swimsuit. It was too bad, because she'd gone to great pains to make it part of the pattern produced by her new body art. But she grew to love the feeling of splashing naked in the surf, lying exposed in the sun, and feeling the breeze on her skin. She also came to love the lustful gaze of strangers. It was like her tan, growing deeper every day.

At night they went to clubs that offered music, dancing, food, or all three. Meena brought evening wear made from edgy designs that were bolder than anything Nav had seen on her before. She usually presented herself as both elegant and feminine. Now, she appeared to be a sexy beast looking for trouble. She acted like it, too, dancing in ever wilder, more provocative ways. Nav was glad Feva was always in the background, monitoring the scene. Trouble never developed, but Meena was such an appealing sight that Nav thought it was very possible that some crude jerk might impose on her. A few considered it, but seeing she was accompanied by Nav discouraged them. The hulking form of Feva was never needed.

The tan was helpful when they returned home. Meena's fitness competition was just one week away, and she needed that time to prepare. She further reduced the calories in her diet so the small amount of fat on her body melted away, revealing the curvaceous muscle below. She made daily trips to the tanning booth so her skin would be as dark as possible when she finally stood on the stage. Meena increased the weight she lifted so her muscularity would be exactly the way she wanted. She practiced pole dancing twice a day. Nav sometimes watched her practice, setting up the VR displays that made Meena's fitness room look like a strip club. Meena didn't remove her costume as she rehearsed for the fitness contest, but Nav had no trouble getting her naked in the bedroom seconds after her rehearsals ended. Her performances were... inspiring.

The regional competition was in historic Las Vegas, which celebrated the centuries it had served as an adult playground. Competition organizers scheduled the event in a performance hall called The Forum, which was selected for spaciousness, audience sightlines, and first-class VR video facilities. This competition selected women to compete in the nationals, and lots of fans of female fitness would watch the broadcast. The hall seated just over 8,200 people, and tickets sold out weeks in advance. It was exciting. Nav was proud of Meena, and Meena was proud of herself.

Neither had the slightest expectation she would place in the top 10. The contestants were nothing like the ones Meena beat in the local pageant. These women were serious. They came to the competition with physiques that matched the sport's definition of perfection. And they had worked for years developing performances that were far more ambitious than Meena's pole dancing. The best routines were a blend of ballet and gymnastics, with artfully performed flexes. Meena was capable of creating a routine like that, but she hadn't had the time in the few short months since Nav told her to "do your best."

Still, it was lots of fun. They flew to Las Vegas two days before the event and attended some of the lavish entertainment the city offered. Meena couldn't enjoy any fancy cuisine or exotic cocktails because she was in training. She'd eat after the pageant was over.

It proceeded exactly as expected. Forty-three very buff competitors arrived. There were so many that it was difficult to squeeze them all on stage at the same time. Meena looked fabulous. She stood before the audience, glistening with oil, and presented herself as a competitor to be feared. Her physique was as good or better than any woman there. She had the additional benefit of being extraordinarily beautiful, which shouldn't have made a difference, but inevitably did.

And those tattoos! Most of the women had body art of one kind or another. But they wore tattoos acquired over years, created by artists with incompatible styles, different types of ink, and with no effort to make the art blend together in a unified way. Meena was the only one with full-body ink that had been done at one time as part of an overall design that was as artistic as it was dramatic. Her black and scarlet hair matched the color of the tattoos. Her tiny black bikini had been part of the pattern from the start. No one had seen anything like it before.

As they walked off stage, each entrant stood before a black background to pose for a professional photographer. He took pictures from the front and back, and Meena noted that the photographer knew a few tricks for making the pictures good. He put a light directly behind each woman. The women's bodies blocked the flash from the camera, but it gave them a kind of white halo that outlined their physique. The photographer quickly sent copies of the photos to Meena, who saw that the effect prevented women with black hair or skin from blending into the dark background. Clever.

There were so many flex performances that they were presented over two days; the final broadcast would be edited down to include only the presentations of women in the top 10. Nav watched Meena perform, of course, but the other women depressed him. They were extraordinary. Meena never expected to compete at the highest level. They would have to make some improvements if she wanted to win in the future.

Nav thought Meena would win one of the lesser awards, but that didn't happen. He was shocked when they called her name while announcing the entrants in the top 10. Wow! It certainly wasn't because of her pole dancing, which was merely competent. The judges appreciated the powerful image she projected on stage. In that regard, she represented the sport as well as any woman there.

They started announcing the winners starting with 10th place. Meena wasn't 10th, or 9th, 8th, 7th, 6th, or 5th. Nav looked on in shocked disbelief when they didn't pick her for 4th place, or third. Meena was still standing there at the moment when only two women remained! One of them would finish first!

Meena won second place. Second place! Against some of the toughest competition the sport offered! It was thrilling and stunning at the same time. But it was also mysterious. How had such a thing happened? It seemed unreasonable.

After the pageant ended, one of the organizers explained the outcome to Meena.

The judges agreed unanimously that Meena was the best-looking competitor. This consensus emerged early. They also agreed that her pole dancing, while agreeable, was not the kind of performance that was good enough for a competitor to rank near the top.

There was a spirited debate. Some of the judges argued for bending the rules, giving the top spot to Meena. They noted - correctly - that putting Meena on the covers of magazines devoted to women's fitness would promote the sport more effectively than any of the other women on stage. Indeed, promotion was supposed to be the point of the pageant.

In the end, the notion of giving Meena first place didn't get much backing, but her strongest supporters fought hard to rank her at second place. That would give her prominent visibility inside the magazines, if not on the covers. She would attract new fans.

"If you come back next year with a better routine, you'll win this thing," the organizer said. "You're the best rookie we've ever seen."

Wow. He said the nicest things! Meena told Nav all about the conversation as soon as she wiped off the oil, changed into her clothes, and rushed out to meet him.

"That's wonderful. Just wonderful," Nav said. "I am so proud of you, Meena. That was one of the most incredible things I've ever seen."

"Thank you, Master," she said, smiling so warmly it melted his heart.

The first thing they wanted to do was get Meena her first real meal since she'd started trimming calories weeks ago. As usual, Nav had a surprise prepared. Las Vegas had several first-class clubs featuring exotic dancers, and he'd placed a reservation for a booth at the one ranked best. He'd taken Meena to a strip club after she won the first time, and that went so well he decided they'd do it again. He'd probably buy her a lap dance, too. She'd enjoyed that the first time.

She sucked down her first cocktail with so much gusto that Nav immediately ordered another. It was wonderful seeing her so happy. She wore the second-place medal around her neck, and couldn't resist touching it over and over and over.

"What do you think of the suggestion that you develop a more ambitious flex routine?" Nav asked. "Is that something you'd like to do?"

"If that's what you wish, Master."

It was sometimes a chore getting Meena to tell him what she thought. He already knew she wanted to please him. That wasn't the question. He had to pose the idea as an order.

"Tell me how you'd feel right now if you'd won first place," he said.

"Wonderful," she said. "It felt amazing to stand on that stage. Hearing the cheers from the audience. Knowing they were cheering for me." She didn't mention her growing sense of excitement at being nearly nude in front of an admiring crowd. Nav didn't need to be told that Meena was developing an appetite for being adored by people other than him. Bravo! He'd followed the directions in the Slave Owners Manual, and it was working perfectly.

It seemed that Meena wanted Master to order her to keep working on being competitive in fitness pageants. If that's what she wanted, Nav would certainly do that. He loved seeing her growing confidence and worldliness. It was touching to watch.

They enjoyed the dancers; Meena enjoyed it more and more as she finished her second cocktail and started her third. She hadn't eaten her sandwich yet, so she felt a strong buzz.

"Which dancer do you like best?" Nav asked.

She giggled. "Why? Do you want to get me another lap dance?"

"Maybe."

Her smile was so warm and loving it made Nav remind himself just how lucky he was. "I wonder if they have a dancer named Jasmine," he said.

"Probably. They've probably got an Amber and a Crystal, too. Maybe an Emerald. A Tiffany," Meena said, giggling again. She was tipsy in the cutest possible way.

One of the dancers finished her act, walked off the stage, and a fully-clothed woman walked on with a microphone.

"Is everyone having a good time? That's the goal of all of us at Club Diamond. We have the prettiest girls, the strongest drinks, and the best lap dances allowed by law. Tonight we have a bit of special entertainment that is always fun to watch.

"This is amateur night! We know a lot of you ladies are wondering what it would be like to perform a strip tease. Tonight is your chance to find out how it feels to be an exotic dancer."

The woman with the microphone was a former dancer who'd moved into management. She invited women in the audience to enter the contest, described the cash prize, and held up the cheap little trophy that would be given to the winner. Meena looked at the ladies who lined up to enter. There were college girls on break. Housewives from out of town. Women anxious to show off new implants or butt lifts. There were even a few women who should never, ever take off their clothes in public. It looked like it would be an entertaining mix of humor and amateur eroticism. Meena thought she would enjoy it.

That's not exactly what happened.

"You are prettier than any of those women, and you're a better pole dancer," Nav said. "Go down there and enter."

The idea of getting naked in a strip club was terrifying, but she knew Nav wasn't kidding. He'd taken her to a nude beach. Had her perform nearly nude in fitness pageants. Added virtual audiences to the sessions where she stripped for him. Displayed her large nude photos in his private office. This was a logical extension of his ongoing effort to make her enjoy exhibitionism.

At that moment, it didn't seem very enjoyable. She was frightened by the idea of taking off her clothes in front of horny men who wanted to imagine what they would do if they could get her alone. It was nothing like the audience at fitness pageants, where the spectators appreciated the effort she'd invested in achieving a certain kind of psychique.

Like so many things, nothing mattered except what her Master said, and he told her to enter.

"Honey, are you really an amateur?" the hostess said when Meena reached the front of the line. "It's not fair to the others if you're a pro from out of town."

"I've never done this before," she said. "I've done pole dancing in fitness contests, but never taken my clothes off."

"Oh! You must be in town for that big pageant down at The Forum. I thought you looked very buff. OK, that makes perfect sense. But let's be honest. You are going to win this thing. You look a lot better than any of the other girls, and none of them are going to be any good at pole dancing. So you're going to dance last. Nobody will want to dance after they see you."

Meena returned to the booth, so nervous Nav felt sorry for her. "Relax," he said. "Pretend you're at home stripping for me. Pretend I'm the only person in the audience. Go up there and win." She knew she would do as she was told, but it did nothing to calm her nerves. What helped was her third cocktail.

The first contestants got up on stage and gave performances so inept it was hilarious. The whole thing was just an excuse for half-drunk women to get naked in front of an audience. And the audience was kind. They applauded the ones who were hot, and the ones who were not. They cheered for the ones who were so nervous they could barely remain on stage. Meena noticed that some of the contestants didn't remove all their clothes. To win, an entrant had to get completely naked. But a lot of the women were able to remove everything except their panties. That was a line many couldn't bring themselves to cross.

When it was Meena's turn, she walked to the stage carefully, aware of the effect the alcohol had on her coordination. "What's your name, Honey?" the hostess asked.

Meena didn't want to use her real name. "Jasmine," she said.

The hostess laughed out loud. "Right. Jasmine. At least you aren't calling yourself Bambi. I hate it when girls call themselves Bambi." The last dancer exited the stage, the hostess introduced "Jasmine," and Meena began to dance.

It got very, very quiet. All you could hear was the hot, sultry jazz Meena selected for her music.

Every person in the club, even the ones located in the seats farthest from the stage, could see that Meena was a goddess. The other entrants quickly realized they couldn't beat Meena, so they gave up on the idea of taking the cheap little prize back home.

Meena circled the pole seductively. Her skirt was too long for her to wrap her legs around the pole tight enough to climb toward the ceiling or perform fancy moves. She removed the skirt almost immediately, then took off the blouse because it looked silly without the skirt. The audience drew in a breath when they saw Meena in the tiny bikini she'd worn at the pageant. It was a good costume for pole dancing, but it revealed far more than the bra and panty sets the other entrants wore.

Her appearance was, of course, startling. The body art. The Mohawk. All that muscle! This crowd didn't appreciate muscle as much as the audience at the fitness competition, but they couldn't help but be impressed that Meena looked like some kind of warrior princess.

She performed in the bikini for almost the entire song. In many ways, she thought she looked better that way than nude. But the rules (and her Master) required that she get naked. The audience gasped when she revealed her breasts. The top barely covered anything, but being topless made a big difference. Meena moved around and around the pole, letting the audience see her from all angles.

She removed her panties and dropped them to the floor just before the song ended. Meena stood there proudly, making no effort to cover herself or act coy. Let them see. They wanted to see her, Master wanted to put her on display, so that's what she did. She looked like a living goddess just in from Mount Olympus. The idea that it was a competition was preposterous. It wasn't remotely competitive. There might be some debate over deciding who came in second, third or fourth, but Meena had to get first prize.

The hostess went through the motions of having the audience rate each contestant. There was polite applause for everyone. The mention of Meena's name triggered the loudest applause a group that size could produce.

"I'm sure that wasn't easy," Nav said.

"No," she said, reaching for her cocktail. "But it was exciting. I didn't expect to like it so much. Thank you for making me do that, Master. It reminds me of the time you made me go bungee jumping. I liked it after I was finally naked."

The hostess came to their table and gave Meena her trophy; it was a plastic model of a nude woman's torso, painted to look vaguely like gold.

"I'll treasure this forever," Meena said, smiling.

The hostess laughed. "I'm sure you'll display it prominently in your closet," she said. "Honey, that was a fine piece of work. The regular dancers are jealous. You're the prettiest girl here tonight, and you can actually dance. Your pole routine was amazing."

The hostess had more to say.

"I'd like to offer you a job. You could make a lot of money here. Our girls make as much or more than any exotic dancers in Vegas. You could try it for a while, and I'm sure it wouldn't be long before you'd be one of our featured performers."

Meena didn't know how to respond. She didn't think Nav would be interested in doing this kind of thing regularly, and certainly not in a city so far from home. But it wasn't her place to answer the question. That was her Master's job.

"That's very gracious," Nav said. "We don't live around here, but your kind words are appreciated."

"That is a shame. There are seven customers who want a lap dance from you," the hostess said. "If you'd like to get a feeling for the money you could make as a dancer, here's your chance. You can use one of our booths if you want."

Doing private lap dances for strange men sounded terrifying. And it didn't sound like any fun. Meena would do whatever her Master said, but she hoped he'd decline this offer.

"Do any women want a lap dance?" he asked.

"One of the requests is from a woman. A very cute one, actually. Do you see that table of women down next to the stage? The one in the red dress asked for a lap dance.

"Those gals are regulars. We like them a lot. They know all the dancers, and all the dancers know them. They are very good tippers, if that makes a difference. I don't know if any of them like men, but all of them definitely like girls. If you're worried about being treated respectfully, that particular lady will not be a problem. Some guys get kind of grabby in the booth, but she won't be like that."

A woman? Meena had given Nav lots of lap dances, but she'd never thought about dancing like that for a woman. It didn't seem nearly as scary.

"Why don't you just do a lap dance for her," Nav said. He stated it in a way that the hostess would think it was a suggestion, but Meena knew was an order

"After the dance, invite her to our table," Nav said.

The customer was a very small and very beautiful woman. She looked young, but that meant nothing. Anyone able to afford anti-aging treatments could be anywhere from 20 to 200.

The woman was shapely and had an achingly beautiful face. That was common too. Cosmetic surgery could accomplish almost anything.

"Hello Jasmine. My name is Diane," the woman said after Meena closed the door to the booth.

"My name isn't really Jasmine," Meena said.

"I thought so," Diane said. "I just figured it was polite to call you whatever name you want."