The Luckiest Girl in the World

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An Erotic Display at Org Inc.
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The Luckiest Girl in the World

# 16-36-2592

(Known in this Facility as 92)

WELCOME TO ORGASM INCORPORATED!

The place where you'll find satisfaction for all of your sexual needs and desires.

Our standards for hiring staff are the highest in the world.

All of our employees are given contraceptives and the PanSTD vaccine, so there's no chance of infection or other complications.

Our Clients include many of the wealthiest Rich families.

Single, family, and group arrangements are available.

Specialties and Services include, but are not limited to:

Erotic Display, Sleeping Beauty, Exotics, Electrical Play, Pain, Water Sports, Lactation, most other fetishes, Genital service, Oral Service, Anal Service, Manual Service, and Reproductive Service.

If you want to show your friends a really good time or impress your business associates, Orgasm Incorporated is *the* place to go.

It's so nice to be freshly bathed, my long hair washed and brushed out, my entire body massaged and covered with fragrant oil. I've been here at this Facility for many years now, and all this pampering still hasn't lost its delight.

When my Spa attendant is finished, she gives me a bathrobe and takes me to the Waiting Room, where my assigned Tech will meet me. Several others are there also, seated in lounge chairs. Some of them are reading magazines or chatting in low voices with each other. Seeing Freak sitting in the corner, I catch es eye and give em a little finger wave. Ee smiles back, then stares off into space. I don't really know em very well. To tell the truth, I'm a bit intimidated by em. Ee's just so -- different. Neither male nor female, or maybe both. We even have special pronouns to use for em.

I settle into one of the chairs, glancing around to see if there's anyone else here that I know. There's a striking-looking Boy perched on the edge of his chair. His skin is a sort of pale brown and his curly hair has a bit of red. I may have seen him around, but not here in the Waiting Room. He seems nervous. Maybe it's his first time to be in an Erotic Display. I smile in his direction, but he doesn't appear to notice. Too wrapped up in his own worries, I suppose. I was like that once.

I look at the clock on the far wall and find that I'm a bit early for my assignment. Perhaps my Spa attendant was in a hurry to get me ready. That often happens when there are a lot of Displays scheduled for the same night, so I can hardly blame them.

No matter. I'm comfortable here, so I don't mind waiting. I entertain myself by looking forward to what will come.

Of course, some Displays are more pleasurable than others, and some can be rather uncomfortable or a bit painful, but even so, no real harm will come to me. It's prohibited by the Rules that apply to our Clients. Besides, my Specialty is Erotic Display, so I have little reason for concern.

As I recline my chair, I realize yet again how very glad I am to have signed the contract with Orgasm Incorporated almost ten years ago. It's the best decision I've made in my life. I squirm happily inside my bathrobe, causing it to caress my nipples. I was one of the lucky ones, chosen from the millions of applicants. I've been spared a life of hardship and deprivation, which is the lot of the vast majority of people in the world today. Except for the Rich, of course. But there are relatively few of them, and I wasn't fortunate enough to have been born into their number.

I remember the day I filed my application as if it was just yesterday. There were hundreds of us waiting in that one office alone, almost all of whom had just reached the legal age of consent, but with a few older folks scattered among the crowd. I waited anxiously for weeks to have my personal interview and my physical examination, and then waited even longer to get the results.

I can still see the triumphant smiles on my parents' faces when we learned I had been accepted. Even though we would never be permitted to see each other again, they knew their daughter would be assured of a long and comfortable life, a rarity in this grossly overpopulated world. Unless you're Rich, of course. But without the Rich, Org Inc would have no business and we would have no Clients, so I suppose I should be grateful to them also.

There were times when I had to keep reminding myself of my good fortune, when things were difficult and I longed for my parents. But now I'm well past my genital surgery and my Training, and I've found my niche within the numerous possibilities available to the Girls and Boys at this Facility.

I can look back now with the wisdom of experience on how confused I was at first about being referred to as a Girl, since I was 18 years of age and most certainly not a child. My Trainer was very understanding. She explained that this is the nomenclature chosen by the Clients, and most new Trainees ask that same question. In many ways we're considered to be the children of Org Inc, since they take full responsibility for our lives from now until we die. And it's true: I think of the company as my family now.

The door opens, and a woman in a Tech's uniform walks in. I know this one. I can't recall her number, but she's worked with me many times before. Middle-aged and very competent. She catches sight of me and heads in my direction.

"92?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Give me your full ID number, please."

"16-36-2592."

I open the front of the bathrobe so she can confirm my number, checking the tattoo across my lower belly just above the pubic bone. Standard operating procedure for a Tech. They're required to double check to make sure of the identity of the Girl or Boy assigned to them, even if they know full well who you are.

I rise and follow her into one of the many cubicles in the Prep Room, where I get out of my bathrobe and climb onto the soft padded gurney that's been set up for me. Tonight, the satin sheet and fleece coverlet are both a vivid rose pink, my very favorite color.

As I make myself comfortable on the gurney, my Tech drapes the soft cover over my naked body.

I arrange myself in the Ready position, flat on my back, arms out at a 45 degree angle to my sides, my legs spread apart and my knees slightly bent outwards. Finally, I close my eyes, smiling to myself as I think of how difficult it was for me to learn not to open my eyes again until the night's activities are over. I broke that rule so many times during my Training sessions that I incurred several punishments. They weren't very severe, since the Trainers understand that it's much harder to learn to keep one's eyes closed than it is to keep from speaking unless bidden to do so. All Boys and Girls are required to keep their eyes closed when in the company of our Rich Clients, in order that the Clients will not be recognized by such as us. I've been told that sometimes a Client will allow the Boy or Girl to open their eyes if it's an individual encounter, but that's strictly the Client's option, not ours.

Of course, not being able to see also makes us more focussed on our own sensations, which is a good thing.

My Tech places the small earplug securely into my right ear. Her voice comes through the tiny speaker, checking if I can hear her loud and clear. Of course, I can. She'll speak into the microphone close to her lips, in order that I can hear her instructions over the usual background noise of an Erotic Display.

She presses the nipple at the end of the medications tube against my lips, and I take it into my mouth, sucking obediently, swallowing tonight's dose of the meds assigned to me. I recognize a subtle but familiar taste. In addition to the regular daily dose of hormones, contraceptives and other supplements, it contains a fairly small amount of the dreaming-drug that will send me into a mellow mood for the upcoming Display. In a larger dose, it can put you into a semi-dreaming sort of haze, or even make you unconscious. But that's usually only for a Sleeping Beauty Display, so I know I'll be aware of what's being done tonight. Such large doses are used sparingly, since it's all too easy to become dependent on them in order to perform well.

The dreaming-drug also increases my sensitivity to stimulation, leaving my body to react to everything that happens, while my mind can focus on nothing but what I'm feeling.

When I've finished the meds, my Tech talks to me, telling me what's going to happen during the Erotic Display. I listen avidly to her words, already feeling the effects of the dreaming-drug. A delicious twinge of anticipation travels up through my body. My enhanced and enlarged clit aches to be touched, but it must be patient. Soon -- very soon -- it will have what it wants.

When she describes the device that will be inserted into me, I am even more impatient for the Display to begin. But I must wait, as it isn't quite time yet.

She tells me this will be a Mixed Company Display, which means both male and female Clients will be there. It's an expensive Display, with some of the best Performers. I am thrilled and honored to have been included in such a thing. I tell myself sternly that I must do my very best.

My anticipation grows, as I hear more about what's been planned. No pain or any other sort of disagreeableness. We are there only to build up the sexual desire between our Clients, so they may fully enjoy each other's bodies in whatever ways they wish, or if they prefer, use the Boys and Girls who will be there on their couches along the walls, ready to serve their sexual needs, but not scheduled to perform in the Displays.

A faint chime inside my cubicle is the signal telling us it's time for us to begin. My Tech wheels me over to the entrance to the Display Room. The relative quiet of the Prep Room changes into the combined chorus of many people talking and music playing in the background, accompanied by the various sounds of ongoing sexual activity. Someone moans loudly, clearly in the throes of orgasm. It's impossible to tell whether it's a male or a female, a Client or one of us. Either way, I can tell that the action is well underway. I'll be the next attraction.

Even through my closed eyelids, I can tell when the spotlight comes on me. Although I can't see it, I know the rest of the room is dim, usually with colored lights flashing or revolving here and there.

I can almost feel the stares of my Clients as they gather around my gurney. As my Tech slowly removes the coverlet from my body, the cool air caresses my sex, emphasizing my nakedness. I know their eyes are devouring me, my long black hair fanned out around my face and shoulders, my small taut breasts with their erect nipples, my beautifully large and generous clit visible even with my legs only partly spread. I give my unseen Clients a smile and a contented sigh. This is not artifice on my part, but rather my genuine desire to please them, as I know my Tech will please me.

"Present," she orders.

Obediently, I bend my knees sharply and open my legs wide, offering my sex for all to see. I can feel my labia open as I spread my legs, eagerly exposing my entrance.

As the Tech rubs cool lubricant over my entrance, I can barely manage to remain still. Forcing my legs further apart, her wet finger probes into me, then another finger, and another and the fingers spread and open me wider, to show the inside of my vagina. She stretches me until it hurts, holding me like that for the Clients who are watching me.

The fingers leave, to be replaced by the round cold knob of the glass dildo to be placed inside me, which will remain until the Display is over. Slowly, it slides in deeper, the tapered oblong head moving completely inside, giving me that ineffable feeling as my entrance closes around the much narrower handle that will remain outside my body.

Through the microphone, my Tech tells me that this device is to go into my posterior chamber, between the base of my cervix and the back wall of my vagina. Of course, there aren't really two entirely separate sections to a vagina, but it makes it easier to visualize this way. It's more a case of the angle and direction of the inserted device, which can produce somewhat different sensations depending on where the most pressure is applied. The anterior chamber is usually more sensitive, but the posterior placement also has a sort of a sweet spot in many Girls, and I'm one of them. The dildo must be placed in just the right position to have its maximum effect. I don't need to be told that this will require a bit of probing on her part and some deliberate effort on mine.

She presses the device sharply downward and deeper into me, instructing me to pull it in further as she continues to probe. It hurts a bit, but I cooperate, tensing my vaginal muscles as hard as I can over and over. Finally, the device is forced inwards just that little extra bit that's necessary. It feels right somehow, and my Tech knows it from the way my entire body relaxes and I sigh with contentment.

She takes hold of my swollen clit, pulling and squeezing as the spasms inside me begin to build. Thanks mostly to the dreaming-drug, the rest of the world fades away as my desire deepens. I am only a vessel being filled with pleasure, hardly even human anymore, my whole existence narrowed down into that small nub of flesh that's being manipulated so skillfully and the mounting pressure of my spasming muscles against the hard glass inside me.

Then the device begins moving around. Oh, ecstasy! It twists this way and that, slower, then faster, then stops for a trembling moment, then moves again. The slightest motion sends spikes through my consciousness. My body tries to clench tighter, hold longer, wanting to feel that small but incredible motion more exquisitely.

Suddenly, it's pushed hard into me and held there. I hear a scream, but I'm so far out of it by now that I'm barely aware it's my own voice. There is only that fierce demanding pressure inside me, lifting me on and up.

Despite the quivering spasms that rack my entire body, I want more! I need more!

The distinctive buzz of the vibrator let's me know what's coming next.

Oh, yes, yes, please!

The tip of the vibrator touches my belly, sliding quickly down toward my aching clit. I convulse with pleasure as the vibrator reaches its target, moves around and around on it, presses almost painfully hard, then eases off.

It's so good, so incredibly good! My lower body spasms repeatedly, quickly. I gasp for breath, trying to make this feeling go on forever, straining hard each time for it to feel even better. I moan and struggle not to thrash too violently as my Tech once again takes hold of the handle of the device and moves it around inside me, still keeping the vibrator on my clit. The spasms feel so impossibly good.

The hormones, the training, the various things that have been done to me, all contribute to the intense sensitivity of my genitals. I can orgasm this way until I'm too exhausted to continue.

My Tech stops when she thinks I've had enough, then wipes the sweat from my exhausted body. The spotlight moves away, seeking other entertainment, while my Tech covers me again with the fleece, signifying that I must recover for a time before anyone has access to me.

She offers the nipple again, allowing me a long drink of water from the dispenser on the shelf built into the lower part of the gurney. If she thinks I need it, there's also juice, a sweet protein drink, or more of the dreaming-drug. Just now, all I get is water.

After a brief rest, I am once again uncovered.

For most of the time, I will lie here in this dim room, my body available to the Clients to touch and manipulate with fingers, mouths, or other body parts. The only thing they may not do is engage in genital sex. Org Inc has other Girls and Boys who service their Clients in that manner, but I'm not one of them. I am only for Display purposes.

I know there are others here like me, still waiting inside the Prep Room, or lying passively on their own gurneys until the spotlight shifts to them and their Tech does whatever is planned. Later on, the spotlight will again be turned on me and it will be my turn to be once again the center of attention.

For now, I just relax, drifting in and out, as I feel myself being touched or sucked, or sometimes just left alone to wander wherever my thoughts carry me. A penis glides over my breasts, then is slapped down against my nipples several times, sending new sensations through me. A mouth fastens onto my sex, sucking and licking my clit and drinking my juices.

Each pleasure flows into another. My lips are kissed, my mouth invaded by a tongue, as I feel the rasp of a man's beard stubble. Someone takes hold of both my breasts, squeezing and kneading them so hard that I cry out in protest. I feel hands holding me down, perhaps belonging to my Tech, who will stay beside me for the entire night. Or perhaps it's one of our Clients. I can't tell.

My Tech tells me to turn over onto my stomach. Guided by her hands, I do as I'm told. A Client probably requested this, so I wait to find out what he or she wishes to do.

Fingernails sharpened to points press delicately against each side of my neck, right over my carotid arteries. Briefly, I feel the pumping of my heart beneath those threatening nails, but I know I will not be harmed. They draw slowly backwards, then down along my spine, now and then pricking into my back. Perhaps they draw a little blood. Perhaps not. Down lower, over my waist, they scratch more quickly and urgently. As they glide over my ass, my Tech whispers, "Open your legs."

Now my tender parts are exposed. The nails pause at the lower edge of my buttocks. I cannot help myself: a shudder of fear runs through my body as they move downwards.

But all they do is tap repeatedly against the handle of the glass dildo that protrudes from between my labia, sending thrills deep into me as the device jerks minutely within my posterior chamber. I moan as the tapping continues. I want to squirm, but my Tech instructs me to lie still.

My involuntary spasms tighten down hard, magnifying the impact of the rapid, tiny movements of the glass. I'm soaring up to a peak when the movements cease.

The fingernails resume their travels, going down the insides of my thighs, my knees, my lower legs, tickling across the bottoms of my feet. I'm gasping for breath now, trying to relax, frustrated after my efforts to reach that high point that I know so well and want so much. I know I can't get there by myself.

Just when I think I've got my desire under control, a hard slap hits one side of my ass, then the other. I cry out in surprise.

"Ass up," my Tech orders, helping me gather my legs beneath me and raise my buttocks as ordered.

In this position, I am even more exposed than before. And this Client likes to inflict pain. I expect my Tech to protest. Pain is not one of my Specialties.

She says nothing. But I'm no newcomer to all this. If my Tech doesn't object, it means my Client has indicated that she has no intention to seriously hurt me. Since the Client doesn't know that, I pretend to tremble and tense up, as if I'm expecting a real spanking, or worse.

After all, it's always best to give your customer what he or she wants. I'll probably just get a light smack, or maybe a sharp squeeze on my stinging bottom.

But I don't even get that. Instead, a finger, surely safely gloved considering those fingernails, rubs oil into my anus, then the finger reaches delicately inside, stroking the side toward my vagina, adding pressure to my already full posterior chamber. Another finger teases my clit with the sharp point of its nail.

I rise like a skyrocket to that incredible peak of pleasure, moaning and gasping. My only regret is that the spotlight isn't on me right now, as I wiggle my ass uncontrollably, arching my back against that clever finger and the prickly dance of the nail on my clit.

12