The Pageant Pt. 01

Melody lay in the hotel bed, her legs spread wide, and resisted the urge to reach down and touch her tingling pussy.

She was desperately aroused. It had been well over two weeks of travel from the outer solar system, and her manager hadn't allowed her a single orgasm in all that time. She was alone in the hotel room, and old instincts battered at her to reach down and rub her clit, which was throbbing so hard with her pulse that it felt as if a single touch would push her over the edge into blissful release.

But she knew it wouldn't. Her manager had full control of everything down there. She'd signed away her right to control her own pleasure when she'd signed up to be an Intergalactic Idol. That was part of the standard contract: all girls on the I-I payroll were installed with nanobots that provided their manager with precise control over certain bodily functions.

At the time, it had seemed like a good trade. In that moment, laying in bed, her pussy aching, it felt like a terrible mistake.

She finally gave in to temptation and reached down. She pulled up her skirt--she was still wearing her practice uniform, which clung close to her body, hugging her curves--and cupped herself through the tight crotch of the leotard. She groaned in frustration.

Under her hand, she could feel the hot, plush lips of her sex. If she pressed a finger between them, she could feel the erect little nub of her clit, could even feel it pulsing up against her. But her pussy felt almost nothing; it was as if she was touching it through layers and layers of fabric, rather than a single thin layer of spandex. There was just the barest sensation of pressure.

"Come on," she whimpered, rubbing her hand firmly against her crotch. The idea of it aroused her, made her even more desperate, until she began to leave a wet patch on the leotard, but it was no use; it was like her hand was between someone else's thighs.

That was the main function of the nanobots that her manager preferred to use. He could set Melody's erogenous sensitivity anywhere between a zero and a ten. A zero was entirely numb; a five was relatively normal sensitivity. He usually kept her at a one. This was best practice, he said, as per his training with Intergalactic Idols; the idea was that a girl who didn't get any pleasure from sex was a lot less likely to create a scandal by being caught with a partner or knocked up. The girls were supposed to look young and pretty and available.

It was hard, some days, to look like an innocent young teen when Melody was a twenty-year-old constantly aching for an orgasm.

She knew she had gotten lucky with her manager. After a hard practice or a good performance, he would reward her by turning her sensitivity up to a six or a seven, and he'd even bought her some sex toys to use on herself. He always watched, of course, and sometimes he got a little handsy--bumped her up to a three or a four during dance practice and slipped a hand between her thighs or over one of her breasts, to "help her focus"--but she'd heard horror stories from other girls.

Stories about managers who withheld orgasms in exchange for sex were so commonplace as to be barely notable. More appalling were the managers who fucked their idol while keeping her sensitivity turned down to a zero--or, worse, a tantalizing one or a two, so that she could feel the faintest pressure of his cock filling her and her own hand rubbing frantically over her clit but had no hope of coming from it.

Melody had even heard some of the managers talking about it; they called it "corrective intercourse", as if it was meant to be some kind of productive punishment, but she'd heard them whispering approvingly about how good it felt to fuck a girl in that condition, how tight her body would squeeze down on their cock.

There were also managers who used the independent orgasm control. They might keep their idol at a regular sensitivity, but turn off her ability to orgasm, which sounded like terrible torture. Melody squeezed her pussy and shut her eyes just at the thought, of rubbing and rubbing and feeling so good but not being able to go over the edge.

She'd witnessed one girl like that, seen the mess it had made of her; they'd worked together on a collab for a holiday performance. The girl had spent every moment in the locker rooms rubbing her pussy, grabbing and kneading at it absently like she couldn't help herself, and everyone else in the collab had just pretended politely not to notice.

And then there was the hacking incident. Everyone had been a little spooked by that. One of I-I's most popular idols, Violet Explosion--a nearly thirty-year-old woman who still managed to look like a teenager--had been in the middle of a live performance when she had suddenly collapsed on stage and just started squealing and convulsing. They eventually figured out that her nanobots had been hacked by a fan, who had turned her sensitivity up to a ten and enabled her orgasms, which her manager usually kept turned off.

By the time they'd found a way to shut down the nanobots, Violet had been coming for nearly twenty minutes.

Of course, it had ruined her career--no idol could keep performing after an on-stage disaster like that--but there were rumors that it had ruined her body, too, had left her unable to climax naturally without the super-sensitivity triggered by the nanobots, and that control of her nanobots was still tied up in a lawsuit.

Melody groaned, caught up in the idea of what it would feel like to have her sensitivity suddenly set that high. She pulled the spandex aside to expose her wet pussy and pressed a finger directly between the hot folds of her cunt, and whimpered when she felt only the barest suggestion of pleasure from the touch. "Fuck. Please...come on..." she rubbed back and forth across the aching nub of her clit, tears of frustration gathering in her eyes as she felt almost nothing. "Oh, fuck, please."

"That's not very ladylike language."

Melody jumped so hard she nearly rolled off the bed. She had been so wrapped up in touching herself that she hadn't even noticed her manager entering the room. He shut the door behind himself and tutted when he saw her skirt rucked up and the crotch of her leotard pulled aside. "You should take the practice outfit off if you're going to be doing that."

"Sorry," she said immediately, reaching up to tug at the shoulder strap of the tight outfit. "Listen, do you think--"

"No," he said, not even letting her finish the question. "You remember our agreement. No rewards until you place in the Grand Pageant. Don't get lazy now, we're almost there. Just a couple more weeks. You know how important this is for your career."

"It's so hard to focus," she begged, slipping the costume off. "All I can think about is how bad I want to come."

"And to come, you have to place," he retorted. "So there you go. Do you want to be a small-time idol forever, or do you want to be a star?"

"A star," she agreed quietly. With the costume off, she was entirely naked, but she wasn't self-conscious about it in front of her manager; over a year into her contract with him, he'd seen her bring herself to orgasm so many times that a little nudity wasn't a concern. "But I just think--"

"No," he said firmly. "That's the end of it. Go shower and get some sleep, you have an early start tomorrow."

***

Melody dreamt of being pinned down and fucked, over and over, of a man's massive cock slipping inside her and ramming against all those most perfect spots until she was aching to come but just couldn't quite get there.

She woke up at four in the morning to the sound of her own whimpering, and discovered she'd been rubbing herself in her sleep, not that it was doing anything to help. She groaned in frustration and chucked a pillow across the room, then buried her face in the mattress and lay face-down, thighs trembling as she fought the urge to uselessly grind her clit into the bed, until she descended back into the murky depths of sleep once more.

***

The next morning was a group practice. The Grand Pageant would open with a basic collab performance, which would be the judges' first introduction to all of the girls and would be their first opportunity to eliminate any girl who wasn't performing adequately.

To Melody's dismay, she recognized one of the other girls at the practice: Pretty Penny--the girl who'd made a scene at the previous collab because her manager kept her sensitivity set at a five all of the time. She didn't seem to be handling her situation any better than before; in fact, she shamelessly rubbed herself right there in the practice room. Any time they weren't actively running a routine, her hand would go down to the crotch of her practice uniform, mashing and rubbing like she had an itch she couldn't get rid of.

All of the other girls tried to avoid her--out of embarrassment, but also because it was difficult to see someone so openly touching herself when so many of them were, like Melody herself, aching for the ability to feel any pleasure at all. But, towards the end of practice, when Melody found herself alone with Penny in the changing room, she decided to try and be nice.

"Hi, Penny."

"Hi. Oh, Melody," Penny said, a little vacantly. She was standing with one foot up on the benches beside the lockers, rubbing one hand absently over her crotch. "I remember you. From the holiday collab, right?"

"Yeah," Melody said, slipping her practice uniform off. "Um, how have you been?"

"Yeah," Penny said, and then went quiet for a moment, like she hadn't heard Melody's question. She was rubbing a finger back and forth over the visible bulge of her clit under her tights. "Oh, hey, I have a question for you. How do you do it?"

"Uh. Do what?"

"You know. You've been an idol for longer than me, right?" Penny said, and then laughed, a little strained. "How have you gone so long without coming? Doesn't it drive you nuts?"

"Um." Melody hesitated, glancing around the room, but they were alone; there was nobody to rescue her from the conversation. Her clit throbbed just watching the way Penny was rubbing her own, and Melody bunched her hand in the soft sweatpants she was pulling on. "It's not so bad. I mean--as long as I perform well, I usually get--that--once or twice a month."

"What?" Penny demanded, staring at her. "What do you mean? You can't."

"What?"

"My manager said you can't. He said he's not allowed to let me come, ever." Penny squeezed her crotch and stopped speaking to groan quietly, then said, "your manager--he lets you--?"

"Um, yeah. If I do a good job. You mean you haven't--since you signed your contract?"

Penny just stared at Melody, wild-eyed, rubbing herself vigorously through the spandex of her uniform. Melody was starting to feel a little nervous when she heard the door of the changing room swing open; a man walked in, wearing the badge of an Intergalactic Idol manager, which meant he was allowed in.

"Penny," he said, and Melody placed him finally--Penny's manager, of course. She'd only met him a couple of times during the previous collab. He didn't look surprised at all to see his idol half-mad with lust, trying fruitlessly to rub herself to orgasm in the middle of the changing room. "Come on, we'll be late to lunch."

"She says she gets to come," Penny said immediately, pointing at Melody.

Melody backed up a bit and quickly pulled on the shirt to go with her sweatpants. "I, um, I have to get going."

The manager smiled and nodded at her. "If you don't mind. I just need to have a private conversation with Penny."

Melody hurried out of the changing room. As she looped around the lockers, she heard a low buzzing sound behind her--a vibrator, she realized with horror. A second later, Penny made an animal howling noise, raw with desperation.

Melody hesitated, then snuck back to peek around the lockers.

Penny was bent over the bench she'd been propped up on before, gripping it with both hands so hard that her knuckles were turning white, her eyes and mouth wide open as her manager held a little vibrator against her clit through the spandex of her uniform. The senseless noises coming out of her mouth slowly became words. "Oh! Oh! Oh, please! I can't--I can't--oh!" Each word came out of her explosively, like it was being forced out of her lungs by the pressure building in her body.

As Melody watched, the manager pulled the crotch of Penny's uniform aside, pressing the vibrator directly against her clit. Then he unzipped his pants and rolled a condom onto his cock before pressing into her in one long slide. Penny's eyes rolled back in her head and her whole body bent until it looked like her spine was going to snap.

"Oh! Oh! Oh please! Oh!" Penny screamed senselessly, her thighs trembling with the effort of holding herself up under the onslaught of pleasure. "I need to come! I need to come! Oh! Oh! I'm--I'm--Oh, please! Please!"

Melody turned and fled the changing room and the awful sight, her pussy throbbing.