Popularity Ch. 07

Angie was a tall, svelte brunette with a cute face and small, perky tits. She walked her long legs over to where I stood, then Joey ordered me to kiss her.

I leaned forward and gave Angie a chaste kiss on the lips, but that wasn't good enough. My cousin reprimanded me for my lack of enthusiasm. "Not like that!" she said. "A real kiss! Put some passion into it! Make me believe that you have an overtly emotional, lesbian crush on Angie!"

Angie and I made eye contact for a few seconds, for a few seconds neither one of us making a move, and then suddenly we were entwined. She wrapped her arms around me, and I covered her mouth with mine. I got lost in the kiss and forgot all about the sizable audience watching us. Our tongues danced erotically, one brushing up against the other and I moaned into Angie's mouth as her hands clutched me tightly and pulled me in, melding our naked bodies together.

Angie's flesh felt feverish as our naked bodies rubbed against each other and we made out like hormone-crazed teenagers. Her tongue continued to probe my mouth and she pushed me up against the wall as we both moaned. When we finally broke from the kiss, we were both panting heavily.

"Very pretty," Joey said as she stood nearby and looked me up and down. Then I noticed she had her phone in her hands, and I realized she'd gotten pictures of Angie and me as we were making out.

"Angie, you and my sister make a very cute couple," Joey said to my fellow slave. "Now, put your fingers inside of her and make her cum."

Angie gave me a look and then she placed her hand between my legs. She worked my swollen labia apart, found the entrance to my sex and thrust two fingers inside of me. I gasped at the suddenness of being impaled on those fingers and then she located my G-spot.

"Aaaaahhhhh!"

I panted and jerked my hips as strong fingers probed deep inside me. Angie knew what she was doing, and she played my pussy like a virtuoso. I whimpered, moaned and felt my vaginal muscles tighten around her fingers.

There was an intense throbbing deep within my loins and I squirmed as Angie fucked me like it was her mission in life. Joey continued to take photos and I felt feverish with both lust and embarrassment as my cousin recorded my libidinous journey to an overpowering orgasm.

Angie's devious fingertips pumped against my Gräfenberg spot and the look on her face was one of intense concentration and sexual desire as she expertly raped my vagina with her fingers.

"Aaahhh, aaahhh, aaahhh!"

My sex throbbed urgently, and my entire body tensed up. My pussy contracted around Angie's fingers, and I came and came and came.

"Aaahhh! Ohhh! Aaaahhhh! Aaaaahhhhh! Angie! Aaaaaahhhhhh!"

My slender hips squirmed, my legs trembled, and she continued to play with my pussy, making my orgasm go on and on and on, and I felt as if it might never stop.

My breathing was ragged, and my whole body trembled as I was fucked by my fellow slave. I had become a shameless, wanton being, a creature that existed only to be used for sex and erotic entertainments. And when I was done spasming and gasping in erotic wonderment, my cousin was standing there with a smug look on her face, still taking photos of my naked humiliation.

"That was beautiful," Joey commented. "I'll always remember you like this, as a naked sex slave, getting fucked by another sex slave."

Joey spent the rest of the day finding ways to humiliate me. One of the things she came up with was having me kiss the feet of other slaves. It was eye-opening to see just how skilled she was at humbling and subjugating me. She was a genius when it came to demeaning me. It was like she was born to it.

* * *

Eventually Family Weekend came to an end. I was both relieved and disappointed to see Joey go and I surmised that my life as a slave might return to something resembling normalcy.

I was way off.

The Patriotic Service Act directed that all the conscripted slaves be used for sex. And that was still an important part of my life as a slave, but simply using us for sex was never enough. The assistant director was constantly coming up with games and public events to entertain any and all government employees and VIPs that came to visit the Sacramento office.

One such event was the Swift Competition.

Originally known as the "Swift Slave Girl Competition", it got shortened to the "Swift Competition". I suppose people felt the original name was too long and awkward. It didn't exactly trip off the tongue.

All the slaves in Sacramento were evaluated. Mistress Holly would take them out to the athletic field and order them to run the outdoor track. Seven female slaves were chosen to compete. Seven male slaves were chosen to compete in a separate Swift Competition.

The rules were simple. Seven slaves would race against each other on a 100-yard track. Each slave would be naked except for knee high black leather boots that were outfitted with special treads that made them more like running shoes than boots. Each slave would also be gagged, and their arms would be bound behind them using leather restraints.

The competition would last seven days and once a slave won, she was no longer eligible to compete. This was somewhat disheartening as the winning slave got her pussy expertly eaten and was allowed to revel in earth-shattering orgasms to her heart's content.

And why was this disheartening? Those of us who were confident of our athletic abilities wanted to keep racing and keep winning and keep collecting our prizes.

I was quite athletic and ended up being one of the slaves chosen for the Swift Competition. So did Angie. I had strange feelings about competing against her. We'd had sex together and it caused me to have intense feelings towards her.

Then Lexi made it into the Swift Competition as well. Lexi and I had also been involved in some intensely erotic experiences as slaves and my emotions involving her were powerful too.

Of course, the trainers and handlers never gave me a chance to sort through those feelings. They just forced me to compete against them and do my utmost to win.

And then, Mistress Ashley came up with the idea that all the losing slaves should be publicly punished as an incentive to do better next time.

It probably goes without saying that every slave in the Swift Competition was kept in a constant state of sexual tension. We were strictly forbidden to climax until we won a race, but our handlers and trainers were constantly playing with our nipples and fingering our vaginas to make sure we were constantly feverish with sexual desire.

All day long, one agonizing wave after another kept my pussy throbbing and my nipples so hard that they ached, but the security guards and other OPS employees made certain that I never had an opportunity to touch my own pussy or masturbate myself to orgasm.

The first official day of competition was on September the 9th. After weeks of training, my body was pumping like mad with adrenaline and sexual excitement. I was motivated to sprint like a racehorse across the track, but just to give us added motivation, Mistress Ashley announced that every slave who failed to come in first place would be publicly whipped for the entertainment of the crowds.

She made a big display of holding up a wicked leather strap, and I knew just from looking at it that it would sting horribly.

Several of the slaves gave out a miserable groan when Mistress Ashley made her announcement.

One hundred yards doesn't seem like a great distance if you're walking it. But when you're naked, ball-gagged and you're sprinting at your top speed the whole way with your arms bound securely behind your back, it's incredibly taxing. It takes a toll on your body. Your heart pounds inside your chest like a frantic drum solo and your throat aches as you greedily suck in greater and greater amounts of air to oxygenate your muscles.

Your heart races and your feet pound the track, making huge demands on your body as you push yourself beyond your limits.

With my new body, I had extraordinary endurance and strong legs. I had been remarkably impressed with my legs when Callidus gave me my new body, but as my legs propelled me forward across the track, I was stunned at how some of the other runners flew down the track and left me in the dust.

The muscles in my thighs and calves were pushed to their limits. I made greater and greater demands on my body, but of course, runners like Danni had longer legs and covered more ground with each stride. All things being equal, the athlete with the longest legs was going to win.

Terri and Angie both pulled ahead of me early in the race and I struggled to catch up with them, but they both had longer legs and they both ran like natural born sprinters. I pushed my body harder and harder until I felt my heart might explode, but I was never able to close the distance between us.

Terri crossed the finish line first. She was led to the winner's circle to receive her reward, while the rest of us slaves were herded to another area where we would be punished for the entertainment of the spectators.

Our gags, leather boots and leather restraints were removed, and we were ordered to present ourselves for punishment.

"Wall pose!" Mistress Ashley shouted, and without further prompting I turned and faced the wall. I leaned forward, lifting my arms and pressing my palms against the vertical surface in front of me, balancing on the balls of my feet with my ankles as far apart as my shoulders. It was a pose that already made me feel painfully exposed and vulnerable.

The other slaves were treated to the same fate. Naked, with our legs spread wide, we made ourselves as agonizingly vulnerable as possible.

Lexi stood immediately to my left and we made eye contact as we stood there and awaited our cruel fate. She had a frightened look on her face, and I sympathized with her. Mistress Ashley's leather strap looked wicked, and I was certain it would be unbearably painful when she brought it down on Lexi's unprotected backside, or on mine.

"Alex! Spread your legs wider," she admonished me and then she turned to another slave and ordered her to do the same thing. She made certain that all of us had our legs pornographically far apart before she began whipping us.

"And now, move those bottoms!" she snapped as the strap came down on Lexi's naked buttocks.

"Ow!"

CRACK!

"Ow!"

CRACK!

"Ow!"

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

"Ow! Ow! Aaahhh!"

"Move those hips!" she said as she cracked the stinging leather across the ass of another frightened slave.

The strap came down again and again, punishing each of us mercilessly for the crime of losing. The punishment seemed unjust, however, the crowds enjoyed watching us squirm and writhe and cry out under the stinging blows of Mistress Ashley's strap.

And the painful whipping was a powerful motivator, galvanizing us to do better next time, spurring us to push ourselves harder, demand more and more from our bodies so that we might not be whipped again tomorrow.

It seemed to take forever, but it was only a few days into the competition when I was finally able to come in first place and collect the prize I'd been dying for.

The day I won felt like the most important day of my life. After all the training and all the agonizing punishments and pushing my body to do better, I finally managed to win a race.

I crossed the finish line and I collapsed to my knees, gasping, my heart still pounding painfully in my chest. Over the sounds of my ragged breathing, I could hear thunderous applause and then hands grabbed at me, picked me up and dragged me roughly to the winner's circle.

I was still bound and gagged and still wearing my knee-high leather boots, but I had won, and it was time for me to be awarded my prize. I stood there, legs spread wide, drooling and gasping around the ball gag and then a slave girl was kneeling at my feet with her mouth on my pubic lips.

I trembled, moaned and screamed in shameless sexual indulgence, but the rubber ball shoved deep into my mouth muffled most of the sounds I made.

After that it was anticlimactic. I continued to breathe heavily for a while and the afterglow from my hard-earned orgasm lingered for a long time, but the spectators lost interest in me once the slave girl stopped licking my needy clit.

* * *

The last day of the competition, there was just one slave left. She had no one to race against, but they made her run anyway. Without anyone competing against her, I felt it might make things easier for her, but I was wrong.

"There was some concern that without any other slaves to race against her, Paulina might become complacent and not give us her best effort," Assistant Director Busch announced to the crowd. "As a result, one of our trainers will be out on the track with her. She'll follow behind with a whip and if she feels that Paulina is lagging, she'll crack that whip across Paulina's beautiful bottom."

As if on cue, Mistress Holly walked out onto the track and held up a single-thong whip where everyone in the audience could see it.

So, Paulina 'won' her race in record time, for her, and was led to the winner's circle. There she was surrounded by a crowd of spectators as another slave knelt and lapped at her pubic lips. And even though she was gagged, I could still hear the sounds of her gasping and moaning lustily.

Her chest heaved and she moved her hips and pelvis in a lewd and shameless manner. It was depraved and indecent, but I would have given just about anything to be up there Instead of her, with that girl's mouth going to town on my pussy.

There were no more races to run. I therefore assumed that the spectators would lose interest in us and go home. But once again, my assumptions were wrong.

The spectators didn't want the excitement to end, so all seven of us slave-girls who had competed were surrounded by prurient spectators and they all laid their hands on us, had their photos taken with us or took possession of us in some other way.

There were so many hands grabbing at me, so many clits thrust in my face for me to lick, the tips of so many patent leather shoes prodding at my genitals, and so many pinches and cruel slaps and probing fingers to endure. I saw Mistress Rose somewhere among the assemblage of kinky perverts, but she got swallowed and I didn't get to spend any time with her. It was both unhealthy and outrageous, probably, but I had developed a crush on her and would much have preferred to be objectified, used and punished by her rather than by these faceless, nameless strangers.