Pride verses Dignity

--Chapter 1--

Despite my exhaustion from the tournament, I didn't sleep well that night. Instead of just tossing and turning, though, I washed my equipment and packed my fencing bag, minus my weapon and glove. Then I showered and shaved my pussy, then spent a while in front of the mirror caressing and cupping my breasts, trying to make an A-cup look at least like a B-cup. Realizing the futility of my efforts, I set an alarm for 8:30am, then finally fell asleep. After a fitful seven hours, my alarm woke me. Despite the fact that I would have to change into my fencing gear, I dressed as conservatively as I could, wearing a black turtleneck over a push-up bra, and a baggy pair of sweatpants over boy shorts. I wasn't dressed to impress, so I hoped I wouldn't leave an impression on anyone on the way over.

Parking was next to impossible in the city, so I walked to the subway. After I boarded, I took a seat in the corner of the car, hugging my bag and praying nobody would notice me. Not that there were many people around to take notice. Sunday morning wasn't a busy time for anything, and public transportation was no exception. Still, as I looked around at the churchgoers and retail workers, I couldn't help but realize that by the end of the day they might be able to find photos of me naked with just a couple of clicks of the mouse.

I was woken from my nightmarish daydreaming by the train arriving at my stop. I scrambled off, glancing around to see if anyone was looking at me. Nobody was, so I consulted my phone for walking directions the rest of the way to Andrew's.

The train from my house didn't run very often, so I was on track to arrive at 9:40am. When I arrived at my destination, however, I found my phone had lead me to a large shopping mall, about 15 stories high on the corner of the block. Frustrated, I rechecked the address, but I had entered it correctly, so I called the phone number David had given me for Andrew, hoping that at least that was correct.

"Miranda?" a young baritone voice that must have been Andrew's answered.

"Hi Andrew, it's nice to meet you, over the phone at least. I think David must have given me the wrong address because I've arrived at a shopping mall."

I heard chuckling on the other end of the line, then "I guess he forgot to explain it to you. I live on the top floor of that mall. Take elevator F all the way up, then ring the bell at the door. I'll see you in a minute."

I was getting a bad feeling about this, but despite my misgivings, I followed Andrew's directions and soon found myself facing a wooden door marked "Private Residence: No soliciting. Do not disturb". I rang the bell.

Andrew answered the door. Not being a social butterfly, I had never even seen Andrew before, except last night when I stalked his social media. I recognized him from his profile picture, but that photo was missing some important context. Andrew must have been 6'3", and had broad shoulders. Photographer and football player, no doubt. He smiled when he saw me, and held out his hand. "You must be Miranda." Everyone knew Bailey, even though she had only been at our school for a year and a half. I therefore, being the other one, must have been Miranda. "Andrew?" I asked, as if I didn't already know. He simply smiled, and gestured me inside without answering. "Come in, make yourself at home" he beamed. I asked him for a place to change into my uniform, and he took me to his room. "My parents are away for the week and my brother is at boarding school, so we have the whole place to ourselves. I've been setting up in the living room, since it has the best lighting. Windows on all sides, and a skylight. That's the perk of living on the top of your own building. We have an entire mini-floor as our living room. Just look for the stairs when you're done changing, and come on up."

The doorbell rang once more while I was changing, and when I made it upstairs I was surprised to find both Bailey, who was already changed, and David in the living room. The room itself was about 400 square feet, with white carpet floors, glass walls, and a few large skylights letting in the sun. The furniture had been removed from the top floor except for a glass coffee table and a massive trunk that looked too heavy to move down stairs, even for Andrew. Andrew had set up a backdrop in the corner across from the coffee table, with all sorts of photography equipment surrounding it, and David was shuffling a deck of cards while Bailey was counting out chips.

David smiled and waved me over. "Apparently Bailey lives pretty close to me, so I gave her a ride this morning. I didn't realize until past midnight that I could use Andrew's parents' parking spot, otherwise I would have given you a ride too, sorry."

"That's okay, the subway isn't too bad on Sunday mornings," I replied. I didn't think I could have stomached riding in with Bailey anyway, so it was probably for the best.

Thankfully, Bailey looked as well as I felt, so I was a little more comfortable sitting across from her.

David began to explain the rules that we had agreed to. As he got to the end of his explanations, his voice got more severe. "Now there are a couple of loose ends with the rules you agreed to yesterday, so I think we had better clear them up before we begin. We have all day for this game, and we plan on using it. It seems probable that you'll do more dares than we have photos. I propose that we video record dares and use them as further collateral against welshing once we've run out of photos. And the game will end when one player has all of their dares online, or at 10:00pm, whichever comes first. If we make it to 10:00, we'll post all of the ultimate loser's dares online. That is, whoever has the highest total of dares recorded and dares posted, including failed dares. Does that sound fair?" I had only half been paying attention, but I knew I would do it, whatever it was, so I nodded. So did Bailey. A grin split David's face. "Okay, let's begin!"

--Chapter 2--

Once Bailey and I had both cut the deck, we flipped a coin. I won, so Bailey would bet first. We put on our fencing masks, and David dealt us our opening hands. My first hand contained a pair of sixes and a king. Bailey added a single chip to her ante, which I called. Her face was unreadable behind her mask, but one chip seemed like an acceptable price to pay to scout out Bailey's play style. In the worst case, I would lose my mask, which was becoming a nuisance anyway. I kept my sixes and drew three, while Bailey drew 2 cards. Bailey bet four chips, and, as I had drawn nothing of interest, I folded.

I whipped off my mask, grabbed three of my lost chips back, and anted up for the next hand, when Bailey piped up. "Aren't you forgetting your photograph?" I rolled my eyes, grabbed my ID, and stood over in Andrew's photography corner. The football player directed me to stand facing the tripod, with one hand at my side and the other holding my ID up next to my face, about level with my eyes. He pressed a button, but I guess the morning light was good enough that he didn't need a flash, and the camera made no sound. I sat back down and examined the hand David had dealt me. After some light bidding my 10s beat Bailey's 8s, and I found myself ahead 20 to 10 before Bailey traded her mask for three of her chips back. She was directed to take the same photo as I had, then we both anted up.

When Bailey lost her jacket after a few more hands, I still had my socks on. She seemed a bit concerned about losing, but didn't hesitate to show us her mammoth chest protector. David winked at Andrew, who got her into the same position we were using for all of our shots, but I could have sworn he spent a little longer centering the shot and adjusting the lighting than he had up until then.

My luck started running out, however, and I lost the next two hands, and didn't recover enough with the third to dig myself out of debt. Baring my pushup bra was one of the most terrifying moments of my life up until then. I turned around to take off my chest protector, for all the good the gesture did me, as I felt myself standing up for the usual photograph. Andrew seemed less excited about this photo than about Bailey's chest protector shot, but David seemed transfixed. I guess that was worth something, although certainly not as much as it cost. On the next hand, when I lost my knickers, Andrew seemed a bit more attentive. When he had taken my photograph, he asked me to turn around for another one, but I just glared at him and sat back down. David, although a little disappointed himself, ruled in my favor and dealt the next hand.

By this point I had to give my opponent some credit. She was up two hands on me, and we were deep enough in that it couldn't all be luck. Still, I spent the next hand proving that I'm a contender, too, squeezing enough chips out of three 10s to keep me ahead even after losing the next two hands.

If David had the same focus on the fencing strip as he exhibited when it was time for Bailey to take off her bra, maybe he could have been a state champion, too. Bailey herself was feeling the heat, and while I prayed that she would complain and back out, it wasn't to be.

"Well, I guess you boys are the lucky ones. I know all of our male classmates like to stare at my chest and imagine what's underneath, but you're the first who won't have to use your imagination." Then her bra fell, and her breasts were revealed to us. As she waited (for an unusually long time) for Andrew to take the photo, I got a chance to examine them. They were everything I had envied. Her bra clearly wasn't augmenting their size at all. They stood out from her chest, tall and proud, in stark contrast to her face, which wore a defeated expression. Her tan had faded since she transferred, now replaced by a full-face blush that crept all the way down her chest, interrupted only by the large pale-pink areola that adorned the peaks of her breasts. They were like nothing I had ever seen before: the tips of her nipples appeared to be inverted slightly, poking ever so slightly into her chest.

Finally, Andrew dismissed her, and she immediately covered her nipples with one arm, then carefully sat back down under the coffee table. David, having been distracted, hastily began shuffling and dealing. Apparently distracted David favored Bailey, as it was my turn to lose my bra next. I waited until I was already standing to do the deed. As my bra dropped, so did my stomach, and I found myself following my bra down, and falling into a crouch, and my eyes starting to tear up. How could I let this happen to me? I never let anyone besides my doctor see my chest! But what could I do? So I shook myself off, plastered a fake smile on my face, and started to rise. Andrew had been distracted with his equipment, but my forced grin hadn't fooled David. His excitement had been replaced with concern.

"Are you okay?"

I wasn't okay. I wanted to scream, to let my smile shatter into tears, to grab my clothes and flee. But Bailey was sitting down, across the room, topless but with a smug look on my face, and I knew I couldn't lose. So instead of screaming and fleeing, I lied.

"I'm fine. Just nervous."

I took my position in front of the camera and Andrew snapped off the photo. I must not have had my head in the game, because I lost the next hand, and with it my panties. This time even Andrew noted my empty-eyed expression as he took my photo, now completely exposed, my bald slit on display for the camera. The shame of standing completely naked in front of my captain, my worst rival, and a complete stranger threatened to overwhelm me, so I let my mind start to shut down, and my body go on autopilot. When I threw the next hand with a bad bluff, Bailey cackled with glee. Not only would I be doing a dare, but I would be starting the next hand 10 chips behind.

"Okay, skank, it isn't fair of us to hog you for ourselves. In these trying times, the whole world needs a laugh, and I think those tiny titties of yours are the solution. Press them against that window for three minutes." She pointed at the window facing an office building. My mind was somewhere else, but my body did as commanded, and I found myself pressing my chest against the window. Beside me, Andrew and Bailey were moving around, but I wasn't paying any attention until I was snapped out of my trance by a blinding flash. Andrew had set up his biggest camera flash set up next to me, and appeared to be signaling whichever office workers in the building across from us were lucky enough to be working on a Sunday. I was mortified, and quickly retreated to my seat. Bailey asked David for the time. I had only spent 65 seconds against the window, so I had failed my dare. My first, odd, but relatively innocent photo would be going online. I guess anyone who cared would know that I owned fencing socks, shoes, knickers and a jacket. Not that anyone didn't already know that.

In the next hand I a drew a low pair into a full house, and managed to earn back my deficit, with some extra, leaving the score 14-16 in my favor. Bailey, with a frustrated flourish, pulled her pink bikini briefs over her knees and took her place at the camera with the angriest smile I've ever seen, keeping her legs closed as tightly as she could. She had a light brown landing strip on her pubic mound which would probably have hidden behind a cheerleader's leotard, and must have been a holdover from her previous high school. When she took her seat, she folded her legs, keeping her pussy from our view.

--Chapter 3--

That win was exactly what I needed, and in the next hand I successfully bluffed my way into another slim win, keeping the score 14-16. Now it was Bailey's turn for a dare, not that anyone needed to tell either of us. Her anxiety only worsened when I revealed her task.

"I think you're hiding something the rest of us ought to know about. The three of us are going to get a chance to search for it. We'll each pose you however we want, and Andrew will record the resulting pose with his camera. Maybe we'll reveal some hidden nooks and crannies that way."

"David, isn't that three dares? That can't be fair." The quaver in Bailey's voice revealed that even she doubted she was getting out of this, and David confirmed.

"After what you put Miranda through last round? I think you're getting off lightly. Besides, the way I see it, dares are supposed to be harder than just stripping. One photo wouldn't be much worse than the last photo you took."

Bailey seemed to disagree, but the ruling was made, so she stood up and waited in Andrew's makeshift set. Andrew declared that, since he was a photographer and couldn't wait for a real life nude model, he would go first. Bailey didn't stop fidgeting until Andrew started to give her direction. He had her pose with her ass toward the camera, bent over slightly, and looking over her shoulder, like some sort of classy, naked pinup girl. That wasn't what I had in mind, so I decided to go next to demonstrate how to properly humiliate my rival. After Andrew's pose, Bailey seemed a bit more at ease, so when I asked her to lie down on her back she did so without hesitation. When I told her to open her legs, however, she did hesitate just long enough to throw me a hate-filled glance, before complying. As her pussy lips came into view, I could see that my idea of exploring her body had struck gold. Her pussy was puffy and red, and I could see the sheen of moisture.

"You slut! You're turned on, aren't you?" I exclaimed gleefully. David and Andrew, who hadn't missed a second, seemed to have noticed as well, since they were exchanging glances and smiles as they stared into her crotch. "Well, there's no point trying to hide it now, slut, because I'm not done with you yet. Bring your feet behind your head." Bailey screwed her face up, then she grabbed her left foot and wrestled it behind her head, pinning her knee behind her shoulder. She did the same with her right foot. "Good. Now reach between your legs with both hands and spread your slimy cunt open for us. Wider. Wider." With her orifice totally on display, the boys could clearly discern her anatomy, from her clit to her urethra to the entrance to her vagina. Even her asshole was plainly visible, ready to be photographed and plastered all over the internet. The image was perfect. Almost. "We can see that you're enjoying this, slut, no need to pretend you aren't. Open your eyes and give the camera a smile." Slowly her eyes unscrunched, and her face morphed into the fakest, most sarcastic smile I could imagine. I couldn't have been happier. Andrew had positioned the camera near and above her cunt, giving him a view down the length of her body. He changed a setting on his high-tech camera and took the shot, the lens focusing on each part of the image in turn, then combining it all to capture her entire humiliation in crystal clarity.

David had taken the hint, and opted to embarrass Bailey like I had. He had her stand facing away from the camera with her feet about three feet apart, then bend over at the waist until she was glaring at us through her spread legs, her hair brushing the floor and her breasts dangling close to her face. Finally, he had her reach up with her hands and spread her butt cheeks apart. David didn't mind her natural mortified facial expression, so Andrew once again recorded her shame, and she and I returned to the coffee table for our next hand.

--Chapter 4--

With the next hand she got a chance for revenge. I had lost, if just barely, and Bailey knew the perfect way to get her vengeance.

"The tables have turned, bitch. This time it'll be you doing the posing for the camera."

She had played me well. After making her suffer through my dare, I couldn't do anything but accept the same penalty, despite having poured my own cruel creativity into making it as horrible as I could imagine.

Somehow, though, it exceeded my expectations. David posed me first. Apparently he knew what he liked, and I ended up looking through my legs and holding my butt cheeks apart the same way Bailey had been made to do. Thankfully, my breasts were too small to really dangle, but that was little consolation from the certainty that my parents would disown me if they saw this photo. It couldn't go online, or I would be ruined, and the only way to stop it from going online was to take more dares and make sure Bailey lost the game. The only way out was through.

Andrew, realizing that he didn't have to be nice, gave me a further taste of my own medicine, putting me into the position I had directed Bailey into. Thankfully I was too humiliated to be turned on, and when I pried open my dark brown labia to reveal the pink that lay inside, I was dry as a bone. Still, I had to endure the others' scrutiny, which was hard enough. As I had demanded of Bailey, my anatomy was prominently displayed.

I had already endured two of the same poses Bailey had taken, but it was too much to ask for Bailey to have suddenly chosen to be artistic like Andrew had with her. Instead, Bailey started by asking Andrew for some cushions for me to lean up against. Instead, Andrew dove into the mysterious trunk in the corner and produced a hard foam wedge and placed it behind me. I tested it by leaning back onto it, and it held in place, maintaining enough friction with the white carpet floor to keep from sliding. Bailey had me lean back against the wedge, then cup my breasts below the nipples and lift them as high as they would go. Finally I had to raise my legs into a wide "V". I smiled as instructed, and Andrew snapped the photo.

--Chapter 5--

There would be hell to pay. I won the next two hands and lost the third by little enough that I was still in the lead. Bailey refused to blow Andrew, to his disappointment, or to drink her own piss, or to masturbate for the video camera, so photos of her without her mask, without her shoes, and without her socks went online. Bailey won the next three hands and continued her habit of copying my dares. I found that I couldn't drink my piss or blow Andrew either, but when my choice was between masturbating on camera and posting photographic proof of my extra small chest protector to the internet, I opted for the former. I had decided that I would suffer any indignity in here, as long as my shame didn't leave this room.