Prize or Penalty Ch. 05: Yes, Sir

Like so many contestants before me, I had fallen prey to the show's format. Lured by money, I had turned myself into a sex object. I wondered, if my husband were still alive, would he still recognise me?

Two boxes left, and I had already removed my vest. I handed it to Charlie. "Number Four," I said distantly, more interested in watching the way my breasts bounced. They seemed almost to have a life of their own, as if they were breasts that loved being breasts and wanted to share that love with the world.

Box Number Four had a test tube with sour yellow liquid. It was also the final penalty. "Yes, Sir," the card read.

I had hoped to be able to keep my skirt at least, but fate was against me. I stripped out of that final garment and stood naked before the world, my legs pressed together but the camera zoomed in to show my complete lack of pubic hair and the gleam of wetness on my inner thighs. "Number Five," I said, completing the ritual of the boxes. The final prize.

"Congratulations!" Charlie said. "All five prizes! Sadly all five penalties too, but as the first contestant ever to go home with ten million in the bank, I think we can call this a victory, yes? But also, Amber, no contestant goes home without a special Prize or Penalty gift, and for you we have this custom-made bra."

I scowled at him but took the bra and succeeded in fastening it. It was thin, black latex that succeeded in covering my nipples, just about, but did nothing to constrain the joyful bouncing of my breasts.

"Oh, Amber," he called as I walked towards the stage exit and I paused and looked back worriedly. Charlie was stroking his hard cock as if determined to come before I could leave. "See me after the show," he said. "I'm going to fuck those tits."

"Yes, Sir," I said obediently, and walked off stage to the sound of audience laughter.

I didn't even make it to my dressing room before bursting into tears.

*

I had no intention of seeing Charlie after the show. I had no idea why I even said it. Except of course I understood that this was the final penalty. Yes, Sir. He had given me an order and I hadn't even questioned it until well after.

In my dressing room, I stared in confusion at the girl staring back, her sad pink eyes, her exuberant breasts, the subtle flinch as once every minute her clit was touched. Was all that worth a mere ten million?

Would my parents, and my husband's parents, be crushed by my betrayal? Was I too absurd a person now to ever find love again - and what did it mean that people could make me agree to things that in truth horrified me? What if Charlie had ordered me to suck his cock then and there, would I have done it?

The door opened to admit Sarah, one of the producers. She smiled kindly and handed me a black Prize or Penalty T-shirt that managed to fit over my new breasts. It was good to have some clothing at least, but I really needed a skirt or trousers. No, a skirt, definitely. Just the thought of trousers gave me a sense of claustrophobia.

"I love your eyes," Sarah said. "But it's not just the colour of your eyes that's changed. You'll find the colour pink generally makes you happy."

"Great," I muttered. "Bimbo breasts and a thing for pink."

f/lick

"And," I added with a sigh, "clitoral torture to keep me permanently horny."

Sarah laughed. "Midnight is twenty-four, by the way. Not zero."

I looked at her, wondering fearfully what would happen if she gave me an order. The other penalties I could live with, but Yes, Sir scared me.

Sarah nodded, intuiting my fear. "Pinch your nose," she said.

I looked at her strangely but did as asked.

"See," she said. "You chose to do that. You weren't being controlled. Pinch your nose again."

This time I chose not to.

"Good. Now pinch your nipples."

"Yes, Sir," I said, and my hands were on my breasts, my fingers pressing against my nipples, before it even occurred to me to question what I was doing. "Huh."

"It's only orders that you consider to be sexual that trigger the suppression. And don't worry, you can't be ordered to do something you don't on some level want to do."

"Okay," I said doubtfully.

"Okay, good. Now get on your hands and knees and beg me to spank you."

"Yes, Sir," I said, but didn't even make it out of my chair before my mind caught up with itself.

Sarah chuckled. "Shame. I would have enjoyed that."

*

A year later, almost to the day, I met my blond-haired, blue-eyed, geeky-but-handsome boyfriend Dave in town. I was wearing a stretchy, strapless tube top (pink), a flared, knee-length skirt (pink), platform heels (pink), and nothing else. It was impossible to find a bra that fit my Anime Boobs, and any attempt to wear knickers failed quickly. Besides, Dave loved watching my breasts bounce, and knowing I was perpetually going commando was a real turn-on for him.

Once an hour, on the hour, an invisible mouth would make love to my clit, and Dave loved this too. Sometimes this happened in company, with friends. I would sit squirming and gasping, and they would check the time and smile knowingly at each other. That his friends and my friends all knew about my lack of underwear and about my clitoral torment was a source of embarrassment that I just had to live with. That was another turn-on for Dave.

But we met in town alone, no friends to distract us. It was midsummer and the sky was cloudless. I kissed him hungrily (lipstick: pink). "Show me your tits," he said when we broke for air.

"Yes, Sir," I said and lifted my top for a brief instant, startling a few passers-by. Giggling, we threaded our way through the lunchtime crowd and into a department store. Between a rack of dark suit jackets and a rack of dark suit trousers, he kissed me again. "You've never done that before," he said.

"I guess I wanted to, this time."

"You dirty little slut," he growled affectionately. He glanced around, checking for witnesses, and I knew he was about to demand something even more perverse. I was learning to love this game we played. "Suck my cock," he ordered.

"Yes, Sir," I said automatically and knelt in front of him. My hands were on his zip before my critical senses re-established themselves. The foolishness of trying to have sex where we might be discovered at any moment without warning. I looked up at him and shook my head.

"Suck my cock," he insisted again, this time helping by fishing out the cock in question. I really loved his cock. I loved the smell of it, and it was beautiful when erect, which it nearly was now.

"Yes, Sir," I said, wrapping my lips about it and sucking. I loved the sensation of him hardening in my mouth. It occurred to me abruptly that I was being very literal about sucking him, and also that we were being very foolish in trying to -

Fuck it, I thought, and got to work. Maybe I could make him come in my mouth before anyone noticed him standing like an idiot in the middle of all these racks of suits and trousers.

"Squeeze your breasts," he instructed. "Pinch your nipples."

"Yes, Sir," I mumbled around a mouthful of cock, my hands immediately obeying, squeezing and pinching through the material of my top. It was a more intense sensation than I was prepared for and I pulled back, about to complain.

"Use your throat," he said before I could say anything.

I'd made a few clumsy attempts at deep throat before, and had an idea how to do it, but because Dave's cock was so long and because I kept choking on it, I was still reluctant to do it. "Yes, Sir," I said, and breathed out before descending along the full length of his shaft. Not until my nose was pressed against his belly was there any doubt in my mind.

Dave moaned in apparent ecstasy, and his hands held my head in place. For several heartbeats, I couldn't move and couldn't breathe, and I was close to panic - but then he released me. I pulled free and gasped for air, looking up to see him grinning happily. "Let's move somewhere else," he said, and I nodded.

It was funny how proud I was at having swallowed the whole of his cock. I wanted to do it again, but somewhere safe where we wouldn't be interrupted. More than that, I needed him to fuck me. I didn't need to touch myself to know I was wet. I could feel it.

As soon as I stood, the memory of him in my mouth and throat still strong, the taste of him lingering, he kissed me hard, his hands grabbing my ass and pulling me tight against his erect and still exposed cock, squashing my breasts against his chest.

Just the week before, in the kitchen at his parents' house, he had ordered me to suck his cock while his parents were in the room next door watching television; during breakfast the following morning, there was fresh cum smeared all over my breasts (he fucked my tits in the bathroom and then ordered me downstairs with the evidence still there) and I was surprised no one else could smell it. The week before that, he made me expose my breasts on the top deck of the bus so that he could watch them sway and bounce; there was no one else upstairs, but there was a security camera, and there were houses we passed where someone would have had a view of me. Every time we went to the cinema now, he made me masturbate during the film.

Go back three months, however, to when we'd only just started dating, and he couldn't have made me do any of these things.

"Let's go eat," he said.

There was a restaurant on the third floor. Dave had me bunch up my skirt and part my legs, making my pussy visible to anyone who cared to look closely. Every time I tried to hide my pussy from view, my anxiety overcoming the suppression, he ordered me back into position. It was so embarrassing, and I loved it. I loved it even more when the clock chimed one o'clock and I sat through thirteen sweet, intimate kisses on my very aroused clit.

We got the bus home together. At first it was too busy to do anything, even at the back on the top, but after a few stops it emptied, mostly. Dave extracted his cock and I resisted the temptation to touch it. "Take your top off," he said.

"Yes, Sir," I said, stripping my top off, setting my breasts free to bounce in their exaggerated fashion. Only after did the panic begin to set in. There were other people on the top deck - in front of us, yes, but they could turn round at any moment. I covered my nipples with my hands, just in case.

Dave laughed at this pointless attempt to conceal my breasts from view. "Straddle me," he ordered, and I obediently climbed into position on his lap with my skirt bunched up round my waist. His cock was jutting up rigidly from his open trousers, pressing against my belly, and damn it looked and felt good.

"Seriously?" I asked, looking nervously over my shoulder. No one was looking at us. Yet. "We can't do this, Dave," I said urgently, reaching for my top. The game had gone too far now.

"Fuck me, Amber," he pleaded, grabbing me by the breasts and sucking on my nipples, one then the other.

"Yes, Sir," I said. Abandoning my top, I lifted up, positioned his cock, and sank down on it, taking his full length in one go. It was like the answer to a prayer, and my cry of pleasure must surely have been heard throughout the top deck. I didn't care though. I cared only about fucking myself on Dave's cock as he squeezed my breasts and sucked on my nipples.

I rode him with wild abandon, taking the full length of him again and again. I didn't even care that we weren't using protection. He felt so fucking good in me and I wanted to feel his climax. I wanted his cum in me. "Come for me, Dave," I pleaded. "Come for me."

Outside the windows the world moved past us. It would soon be our stop, but I wasn't stopping until we were done. I had never fucked my husband with such brutal passion, but he was in the past now. Dave's hands were on my hips, helping me lift, forcing me down, and my breasts were smacking his face with each wild bounce.

With a strangled cry, he climaxed, his beautiful cock stiffening and then jerking vigorously, his cum tickling me delightfully as it jetted out deep inside me.

"Yes!" I screamed, his climax triggering my own. He held me down so that his cock remained buried to the hilt as it pulsed and kicked within me, and while I convulsed with pleasure on his lap, grinding against him with what little freedom he left me. Each contraction of my vagina about his hard length sent a wave of blissful ecstasy through me, and I just wanted it to continue forever.

End, it did, but I don't think I had ever been happier than in that moment. I didn't turn round; if people were watching, I didn't want to know. I kissed him, pouring all my heart into it. "I love you, Dave," I murmured.

"Marry me, Amber," he said, his eyes full of wonder.

It wasn't a sex thing. I didn't have to answer. I chose to. "Yes, Sir," I said, and we kissed again.