Fight for Freedom Ch. 04

"Whatever," he said, waving his hand.

She brought up the room's sound system, putting on a channel of slow dance songs. She twirled into the center of the room, writhing to the beat as she shook her breasts and ass at Mr. Johnson.

They'd both fought, the first few days. She'd refused to perform, and Paul had tried to defend her. The resort owners had demonstrated that they could cause immense pain in ways that wouldn't mark them, and that the two of them could be used as leverage on each other. Their resistance hadn't lasted long. This was far from ideal, but it beat the hell out of the torture they'd gotten. And, occasionally, they had a night where nobody chose her, and the two of them just got to spend it together.

"Give him a lap dance," Mr. Johnson said, waving toward Paul. She strode over toward him in her heels, squatting down to dance just above Paul's lap. Her dress pulled tight around her thighs, not letting her open her legs any wider, but she rubbed her silk-covered ass on Paul's thighs as his erection pressed into her from behind.

"Straddle him," Mr. Johnson ordered.

"I can't with the dress on, Master. It's too tight."

"Fixable," Mr. Johnson said, standing up and striding toward her. He grasped the dress just below her breasts and pulled, trying to tear it from her. After two sharp tugs that failed to do anything, he walked to the bedside table and picked up a pair of emergency shears. A few quick cuts and the dress came off of her, falling to the floor in a tattered heap.

Underneath, she was naked, and the man stood so he could see between her and Paul. "Straddle him," he repeated.

She straddled Paul's lap, his erection resting on her clean-shaven pubis. To the side, Mr. Johnson smiled, then walked back to the table for a moment. He set down the shears and picked up something - she couldn't see what from this angle.

Meanwhile, she shook her breasts in Paul's face as she rubbed her wet pussy on his lap. She hated doing this, but the thrill was so intense she couldn't help but get aroused by it. Her husband's cock was so close, but she wasn't allowed to impale herself on it unless ordered to.

She heard Mr. Johnson undressing behind her, but her attention was on Paul now. He was breathing heavily through his nose, and she could feel his cock pulse as it bounced off of her mound.

"Fuck him," Mr. Johnson said as he stepped behind her, and she didn't need to be told twice. She raised herself up and sank down on Paul's hard cock, making him moan through the gag. She started to bounce, until Mr. Johnson told her to hold still as Paul was fully buried inside of her.

A pressure against her ass, and then a bit of cold as the lubricant was spread around. Mr. Johnson's erection pressed against her anus, which yielded to the pressure. He was large, she could feel it, as if it were splitting her apart, and she cried out in pain. "Take it all, bitch," he muttered as he went balls-deep inside of her ass.

"Now, time for a fuck," he said, beginning to rock her back and forth between the two cocks that impaled her.

#####

Satomi had just gotten dressed after her post-workout shower when the knock at the door startled her. She peeked through the peephole in the apartment door; a tall, skinny Hispanic man in a business suit stood at the door, holding a briefcase and a clipboard.

She opened the door a crack, peering through. "Yes?" she asked.

"Satomi Yamaguchi? I have a delivery for you, from the show you were on."

She looked at him, surprised, her thoughts going back to it. After Hiroshi had won, they'd been brought back to the resort they'd been staying at, finding that their entire stay had been paid for. They'd had two more days before they flew home, wondering at every turn if they were going to be grabbed again.

She had another month before school started, so she'd had time to recover a bit. Hiroshi had gone back to his job after a week. They'd kept what happened quiet, although the guilty look one of the other teachers had given her on the preparation day she'd gone to made her suspect that she knew who had set them up.

"Can you slide it through?" she asked, not wanting to open the door to anybody involved with the show.

"I need you to sign here," he said, sliding the clipboard through the slot.

She glanced at the paper on it; it was a statement of receipt for the contents of the briefcase. She signed and slid it back through. The man pulled the middle sheet out of the papers and handed it to her, then slid the briefcase through the opening. She took it, and the man nodded his head and turned, walking down the hallway toward the exit.

She closed the door and tried to open the briefcase. It was locked with a combination lock. Frowning, she glared at it, then looked at the paper she'd been handed. "The combination is your total winnings in dollars," it said. She thought back to the number she'd been told, and dialed it in; the lock popped open.

Inside, she found a folder and a DVD case. The case was marked, 'Fight For Freedom, Season 1 Episode 8', and pictures on it showed Patrick getting a load of semen on his face, Ana getting sandwiched between two guards, and Paul and Hiroshi squaring off in the final fight. She set it aside and opened the folder.

It contained details on a bank account in the Cayman Islands, with the balance that they had been promised. She was still surprised that they'd actually kept their end of the deal.

She looked at the clock; Hiroshi was due home in half an hour. With a smile, she set the briefcase down and went into their bedroom, stripping naked before opening up the toy drawer.

After an awkward night together, they'd talked about what had happened, what they'd liked, and what they hadn't liked. Satomi had found that the idea of bondage was a turn-on, and Hiroshi had been quite willing to tie her up and punish her. They'd enjoyed playing like that quite a bit. He wasn't quite so fond of being bound, but was willing to be if she was going to peg him with her strap-on. He had never expected to like that quite as much as he did.

She pulled out leather wrist and ankle cuffs, along with a collar, a spreader bar, a gag, and several padlocks. A pair of nipple clamps and a vibrator finished off the preparations. She put the DVD into the drive and set it to playing. It came up on Catalina, smiling into the camera and welcoming them to the show.

Satomi let the show run as she set up her bondage. Ankle cuffs locked to the spreader bar, keeping her from closing her legs. The collar around her neck, with the keys to the padlocks hanging from it. Nipple clamps, tight enough that she hissed as they went on, with the chain running through the D-ring on the front of the collar. The gag that would prevent her from crying out. A vibrator, set on low to keep her hot, not that that would be an issue.

Finally, she buckled the wrist cuffs on. Looking over at the clock, she saw that Hiroshi would be home in just a few more minutes. She put her wrists behind her back and looped the padlock into the D-rings on her cuffs. She could still get loose now, in case of a fire or other problem.

She turned her attention to the DVD. The blue box was lifted, and there she was, helpless, wearing the tiny blue outfit. Hiroshi was next to her, wearing just his little blue shorts. She was getting close to orgasm now at the sight of herself on the screen.

She heard the door unlock and open as Hiroshi came in. "Honey, I'm home! What's up?" She clicked the lock closed that kept her wrist cuffs together, rendering herself helpless.

He walked into the living room, looking her over. "What's the occasion?" he asked, admiring her before looking up at the TV screen. "Oh. They sent us a copy of it?"

She nodded, her hips rocking as she tried to increase the stimulation. So close.

"Did they send the money, too?"

She nodded again, breathing heavily through her nose.

He reached down and turned off the vibrator, sliding it out of her. "Now, now. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

She whimpered through the gag, thinking about how much she loved her husband and the things he did to her.