Mary Madeleine Morrison sat at her new computer carefully typing instructions into a wordprocessor file that would eventually be an attachment to an email. The computer was brand new, top of the line, state of the art. It was one of the things she had purchased with her recent lottery winnings. She had won big. Not “Take this job and shove it!” big, but big enough to pay off her car, buy a bunch of new things like a really good computer, arrange for a month-long fantasy vacation, and most importantly for her, to put out a revenge contract on “The Target.”
Finding someone to do something underhanded and illegal on the internet is easy. Finding someone to do something underhanded and illegal who is not a cop or a member of some vigilante watch group is a little more difficult. Making sure that the person is reliable and will do exactly what they have been paid to do – no more, no less – is yet more difficult. And being sure that nothing could be traced back to you as you arranged for all of this is almost impossible.
Mary did the impossible, however, and guaranteed that her computer could not be traced by the simple expedient of donating multiple computers and internet access to four different mission schools in India. She paid to have the computers slightly modified before sending them on to the mission schools. The hard disks were virus free, but the onboard RAM had been modified so that a specific command received from the internet would turn on a relay system on the motherboard that would forward Mary’s computer connection. The program always connected through at least two other of the computers before making it’s final on-line connection, so anyone trying to trace something back to Mary would have to loop in and out of at least three mission schools in India to find her. And each of those computers would look as though the transmission actually originated there.
With the problem of anonymity solved, all Mary needed to do was to find the right “operative” to do what she wanted. When Mary first started searching for the right person, she began by trolling the BDSM chat rooms. What she wanted done, after all, most closely came under that general category. She soon learned, however, that asking “Are you a police officer, an officer of the court in any fashion, or a member of any volunteer internet watch group?” caused many of the people who were chatting with her to immediately sign off. She was never sure whether that meant they were cops, or just scared off, but in any case, pickings were fairly slim. It was obvious it would take time to find just the right person. After several months of effort, however, and after rejecting several initial prospects, she thought she had a good candidate in BigMomma73.
There were several things which made her think this might be the right person. To begin with “BigMomma” is not a handle that most petite young women would use, so it probably wasn’t a cop trolling for pedophiles. Secondly, she had Googled “BigMomma73” and found other posts from her and even some stories on various sites. It was apparent that BigMomma was a severe domme who didn’t mind inflicting pain if it was needed, but at the same time, she never spoke of going overboard – even in her fantasy stories.
BigMomma73 definitely seemed like the right one, but Mary still had to make sure she wasn’t a cop of some sort. She had read about the “show me your tit,” dodge that potential Johns used to make sure a prostitute on the corner wasn’t a decoy. Asking someone to show you their breast was technically not even illegal, but an undercover cop couldn’t do it because indecent exposure would be an unnecessary undercover crime, meaning that it wasn’t necessary to save her or another’s life. The test was simple. No tit equals cop. Tit equals prostitute.
Mary needed a similar test to be sure that Big Momma was not a decoy of some sort. She had thought of and discarded many possible solutions, when suddenly it came to her. She would use a variation of the tit test.
She wasn’t going to ask BigMomma to flop out a tit, but she knew that The Target liked to sunbath naked on her balcony every Saturday afternoon when the weather was good. She would offer Big Momma a thousand dollars plus expenses for her to get a video of The Target sunbathing nude on her balcony. Since there would be no audio, it wouldn’t be illegal under the current laws, but a cop wouldn’t be able to do it because it violated a person’s privacy, etc., etc., etc.
Mary also knew that The Target would often masturbate herself as she lay in the sun, but that was a bit of information she would not share with Big Momma. Intentionally filming a sex act was illegal, so if it happened, it had to be “accidental.”
Two weeks after mailing a money order to the storefront “mailbox” specified by Big Momma, Mary received an email with a link to an online file transfer box. Mary had been impressed that Big Momma had evidently rented one of those hard to trace mail boxes at one of the shipping stores downtown for transactions with her. She was further impressed that the file transfer box was also untraceable. Both were signs that Big Momma might be just the right one for the job.
When Mary downloaded the file, it was a crystal clear video of The Target walking out onto her balcony in her robe, setting up her lawn chair, and then taking off the robe and rubbing down her entire body with baby oil before lying in the sun. The video zoomed in for explicit details of each breast and of the neatly trimmed bush between The Target’s legs. The video faded to gray and when it returned, The Target was rubbing a large vibrator over her breasts and labia. After several minutes, she began to squirm on her chair and started thrusting the vibrator in and out of her cunt. This went on for several minutes until The Target’s body suddenly went rigid in climax. Big Momma zoomed in on her face to capture the “O” moment. The video was everything Mary wanted, and more. Not only did Big Momma do everything that Mary asked, she was also a damned good videographer or had access to one.
It was time to move to step two of the plan, the revenge attack on The Target. Mary emailed Big Momma and congratulated her on a job well done. She then asked if Big Momma would like to take it up a step or two. Big Momma’s only question was “How much?” Mary had her operative.
“This will be a weekend kidnaping and punishment,” emailed Mary. “I want this woman punished and humiliated exactly as I specify. I will pay $5,000 in advance and an additional $5,000 on completion. There will be up to another $10,000 for expenses and additional people.”
The email ended with, “Are you still interested?”
“I want at least $2,000 of the expense money up front,” was Big Momma’s only reply.
Mary was now preparing carefully detailed instructions of exactly what she wanted done and when. She had arranged for a month off work to go on her fantasy vacation and, so that no one suspected anything, this was to occur while she was gone.
The instructions began, “You have one week to prepare everything. You already know The Target. You have taken videos of her on her balcony. One week from Saturday, you are to capture her as she is waiting for a bus in front of her apartment. Every Saturday morning at ten, she takes the bus to the mall where spends the morning walking through the shops and then eats lunch alone in the food court before returning home in the afternoon. She is always late getting down to the bus stop, however, and misses the first bus. Since almost no one takes the bus from there on Saturday, she will be standing alone at the bus stop for quite a while. You are to be ready with a van and at least one helper. When she steps up to the curb to look down the street for the next bus, drive up and pull her into the van through the open side door. There are no security cameras that pick up the area of the bus stop.”
The instructions then continued with a detailed list of exactly what Mary wanted done to The Target and the fact that Mary wanted full, detailed videos of everything, including the initial capture.
The following Saturday, The Target, stood at the bus stop in front of her apartment building. As Mary had predicted, she was late and just missed the ten o’clock bus. After standing for several minutes, she stepped up to the curb and looked down the road to see if the next bus was arriving yet. It wasn’t. What arrived instead was an older, white, extremely dirty van with mud smeared over the license plates. It stopped for only a few seconds while the side door slid open and two figures dressed entirely in black, with black masks totally covering their faces, grabbed The Target and pulled her into the van.
She opened her mouth to scream, but a knife pressed against her throat and a hoarsely whispered warning to stay quiet or die caused her to immediately close her mouth. Tape of some sort was slapped across her mouth. A bag was pulled over her head and tied around her neck. Then her hands were pulled roughly behind her and taped together. She was pushed to the floor of the van and her ankles were also taped.
The Target tried to keep track of where they were going, but the van turned repeatedly and soon she was totally disoriented. Then a loud drumming, pounding sound hit the side of the van. It sounded like a very heavy rainstorm, but had a rhythmic pulsation to it. She finally recognized the sound and decided that, for some reason, they were going through a car wash.
If she had been able to see what was going on from outside the van, she would have seen an old, very weathered, very dirty, white van enter the car wash, and a bright, shiny, medium blue van exit at the other end. The weathered white coloring and the mud had been merely an expertly applied disguise. If there were any witnesses to the abduction, the only accurate description they could give was that it was that it was an old, white van – that didn’t exist.
After the van pulled out of the car wash, one of the figures in black said, “Now we can start.” He reached down and began to cut The Target’s clothing from her body. After she was totally naked, he slapped her on the ass and said with a laugh, “You must have really pissed somebody off.”
He slapped her ass softly several more times and continued, “Someone you know as ‘the bookkeeper’ sends her regards. She told me to tell you that she has been wanting to do this for a long time. If you behave yourself and cooperate, you will be released on Sunday night. If you don’t cooperate, you will never be found. If you understand, nod your head enough so we can see it move through the bag.”
The naked figure lying bound on the floor of the van slowly nodded her head up and down.
“Now you just relax and enjoy the ride. We have a ways to drive before we get to the club.”
At first Target cringed in fear that they might rape her in the van, but as the minutes turned to hours, she began to wonder why they did not. Strangely, she began to ask herself, “Don’t they find me attractive?” After all, there was nothing that she could do to keep them from violating her, and yet they did not. The thought then entered her mind that perhaps there was something worse than rape awaiting her at this “club.”
It was well after nightfall when the van finally stopped. Rough hands slid her out of the van and pulled her to her feet. She could tell that she stood on gravel of some sort by the feel of the stones against her feet. She could feel hands fumbling with the heavy string that held the bag in place. Suddenly it was gone.
Target blinked her eyes in what, to her, was bright light. In reality, it was a relatively dim parking lot. A somewhat run down looking building was the only structure visible. Turning her head she could see only darkness beyond the lights of the parking lot. They were obviously way out in the country somewhere.
A neon sign flickered on the side of the building. It said, “The Wicked Whip.” The neon formed a coiled whip that made three circles around the handle. As she watched, the whip uncurled in neon steps to extend across the side of the building to strike exactly on the ass of a painting of a large naked woman that stood next to the entrance.
Target had read about this club once when she was slumming on the internet. It was a BDSM Club with a bad reputation even among BDSM clubs. They ran a monthly “Ultimate Winners and Losers” contest that was streamed live on their website. It was rumored that some of the contestants were not willing participants. That may or may not have been true, but it helped justify their high membership rates and added to the enjoyment of those who watched the shows.
The contest was a series of competitions, primarily between subs and slaves, the purpose of which was to ascertain the Ultimate Winner and The Ultimate Loser. Like many contests or tournaments, there was a Winner’s Bracket and a Loser’s Bracket. The Winner’s Bracket functioned as did most tournament winner’s brackets. If you won, you continued on toward being the Ultimate Winner. If you lost, you were out.
The Loser’s Bracket was exactly opposite. If you won, you were out. If you lost, you continued on toward being The Ultimate Loser.
The Ultimate Winner received a cash prize of $1,000 plus some perks at the club. The Ultimate Loser was the primary entertainment for the overnight party following the show.
There were smaller prizes – and punishments – given at each level. Everyone who made it into the semi-final eight in the winner’s bracket received $100. Everyone who made it into the semi-final eight in the losers bracket received ten lashes with a belt. The semi-final four winners received $200. The semi-final four losers received 20 swats with a wooden paddle that had one inch holes across its surface. Target had watched those contests and punishments several times as they were streamed live on the guest portion of the club’s website.
She did not know exactly what happened with the semi-final and final competitions because those matches and their aftermaths were available only in the member’s area of the club’s website. It was rumored that in some of the contests the winners in the semi-finals received $500, and the losers had to sexually satisfy – orally, anally, or vaginally – three different members of the audience chosen by random lot. Tickets for that drawing were supposedly part of what supplied the prize money.
“Are you going to behave yourself?” asked the man standing in front of her. His voice identified him as one of her abductors from the van. A somewhat heavyset, but very muscular woman standing next to him said curtly, “I’ll take it from here.”
The woman led Target into the building and into a huge open room with a large stage area and audience seating. It appeared that there were around 300 people present. The stage had a large open area directly in front of the audience and behind that were three set of risers like choirs would stand on for a performance. On each of the four levels of the center riser, evenly spaced across its width, were eight platforms of some sort.
Each platform had a heavy railing on the front of it at approximately waist high. On each railing was what looked more or less like handcuffs, but the bottom of the loop was firmly attached to the railing. In each of the first three rows, there were eight naked people standing on a platform with their hands cuffed in place on the rail in front of them.
Target was taken to the fourth row and cuffed in place. Soon all 32 stands were filled. Three others, besides Target, had tape over their mouths. She was surprised to see, on the stand to her left, the heavyset woman who had led her into the arena. With no clothing on, it was obvious that most of her large body mass was muscle, not fat.
Two burly men in black T-shirts with the word “Security” in big white letters on the front and back walked among the rows checking the tightness of the cuffs. As they passed Target, one of them reached up and ripped the tape from her mouth. She started to call out and tell him that she had been kidnaped, but as soon as she began to speak, he slapped her soundly and said, “You will be told when to talk, bitch. Unless you are told to talk, you stay quiet. Got that?”
Target nodded. Her eyes began to fill with tears and her legs began to tremble, but she remained quiet as the security men finished their inspection. One of the other women began screaming as soon as the tape was removed from her mouth. When she refused to quiet down after the security man slapped her, he pulled something from his pocket and pressed it against her breast. She screamed even louder and slumped against the rail. When she pulled herself back up, the guard said, “You will be told when to talk, bitch. Unless you are told to talk, you stay quiet. Got that?”
The woman nodded weakly. Target was now crying softly to herself.
A slightly seedy-looking man in a cheap tuxedo walked to the center of the stage area and took a microphone from his pocket. “Ladies and Gentlemen of The Wicked Whip, and all our guests and paying customers watching over the internet, we have 32 entries in this month’s competition. That means it will take five contests to determine The Ultimate Winner and The Ultimate Loser. The first competition is a simple pain endurance test to place our contestants in the winners or losers bracket. But before I begin, I need to announce our rules.”
Turning to the 32 naked men and women cuffed to the platforms, he said, “Your safewords are all recorded on your entry forms. However, once we have progressed to the second contest, safewords will not be accepted. If you want to remove yourself from the contest, yell out your safeword now.”
Several of the bound women began yelling loudly that they were not there of their own free will, but no one yelled out a safeword. Target was yelling, “I don’t have a safeword. I was kidnaped and brought here. The woman on her right was yelling the same thing, but then turned to her and said, “It makes this so much more exciting to imagine that I was kidnaped and forced to be here.”
Target stopped yelling and began to just cry softly, “No… no… no… no… no.”
The MC continued, “Remember, your last chance to use your safeword is after the first contest. Once you are returned to a winner’s or loser’s platform, you are committed for the whole contest. Is that clear?”
When there was no response, the MC yelled out, “I said, ‘IS THAT CLEAR?'”
There was a loud shout of “Yes!” from almost all of the contestants on the platforms. Target merely whispered softly, “Yes.”
“Then we shall begin,” announced the MC.
A huge platform was rolled into the center of the open space. There was a large, black box in the center of it that had several wires hanging from its sides and top. There were also what looked like two short pieces of belt sticking straight up out of the top of the box.
Four heavily muscled men in black T-shirts walked out into the lights. Two of them were rolling what looked like the carts that are used to move things around in a grocery store. A pair of them went behind the first platform and slid the front of their cart under it from the back. They then lifted the platform and the naked woman on it and rolled her over to one side of the platform where they pushed her forward so that the railing was against the black box. The other two men did the same with the next contestant and placed her on the opposite side of the box.
After both contestants were in place, three women, also in black T-shirts, came out into the arena and began attaching the wires to the contestant’s nipples using stick-on electrodes. They next connected a metal dildo to one of the wires and inserted it in the contestant’s ass. Finally they used a clip to attach a fourth electrode to both women’s clit.
The burly security people came out and pressed both contestants over at the waist so that their heads were directly over the short belt pieces. “Open wide,” one of them said, and one of the crew women pulled upward on the belt and held it in the contestant’s mouth. “Bite down,” ordered the security man.
“Once the contest begins,” said the MC, “the level of the shocks will be automatically increased until one of the contestants lets go of the mouthpiece.” Turning to the two contestants he continued, “Remember, you don’t have to beat the machine. You only have to beat your opponent. The first one to release the mouthpiece loses and goes into the losers bracket.” Looking up into the darkness beyond the audience, he said, “Ready. … Begin!”
A large display lowered from the ceiling. There was a digital meter that currently said “0.0” and large clock with a single hand set to 0.
The clock began turning and the digital meter moved to “0.5.” Each click of the clock hand took it forward one mark on its face, and with each click of the clock, the meter went up by 0.5.
When the meter read 1.5, both women began to squirm and grunt. At 3.0 the feet of both were dancing on their platforms. At 4.0 their grunts became wails through their clenched teeth. And at 5.5 one of the women screamed out loudly and pulled herself up straight, the belt snapping from her mouth and back to its original position on the top of the black box.
“We have a winner!” yelled the MC. “…and a loser.”
The security men came and released the winner from her cuffs. She went to the risers on the left and stood on the first row. The stage hands used their oversized cart to move the loser to the first position on the riser to the right. They returned with the next two contestants. The procedure was the same except that since one of the contestants was a man, a cock ring was snapped in place behind his scrotum rather than an electrode clipped over the clit. Target thought that put the woman at a disadvantage, but the man still lost.
She watched this repeated a dozen times before she was finally rolled down into the arena and pushed over the black box. The metal dildo hurt slightly going into her anus, but that was nothing compared to the pain when the clamp closed on her clit. She kept thinking to herself, “If I can win this, I am safe. I can lose the next one and be out of this horrid competition.” But the meter was at only 2.0 when she screamed loudly and lost her grip on the mouthpiece. She was crying heavily as she was rolled over to her place in the losers section.
After what seemed like just a few moments, the MC announced, “Well, ladies and gentlemen, we have our winners and we have our losers for the night. The question is, ‘Who will be The Ultimate Winner?” He paused dramatically and added in a much lower tone of voice, “And who will be The Ultimate Loser?'” He then reverted to an almost normal voice to announce, “There will be a short break for our waiters and waitresses to take your drink and food orders and then we will continue with Round Two.”
= = = = = =
While the wait staff was filling drink orders, the crew removed the black box and began setting up a large, shallow square that looked somewhat like a kiddy swimming pool, except that it was about twelve feet square and had a rather heavy steel frame. When it was set up, and after the MC had carefully inspected it and nodded his approval, it was filled to a depth of about four inches with a fluid that looked a lot like thick baby oil.
When all was prepared, the MC returned to the center of the arena and intoned, “Ladies and gentlemen, our second round will be Greco-Roman Wrestling. In Greek wrestling, the winner of the match is the first one to throw their opponent to the ground. The Greeks wrestled naked and would oil themselves up with grease to make it harder for their opponent to get hold of them. We are using an industrial lubricant in our slime pit, but it has the same effect. So just like the great citizens of ancient Greece, you get to watch a bunch of glistening bodies dancing around naked, trying to throw each other to the ground. We will begin with our winner’s bracket and then move to our losers.”
Target watched from her platform as the twelve women and four men were brought over to the slime pit two by two. Some of the contestants scooped up large handfuls of the lubricant and rubbed it into their bodies. Others just stepped into the pit.
Most of the matches were over fairly quickly. The secret seemed to be to rapidly get hold of the other person around the waist. If you were the first to securely grab the other, most likely you could throw them down. The slippery gel, however, made it difficult to hold on to anything. The match that got the most reaction from the crowd was when the large, heavyset woman who had brought Target to the club grabbed her opponent at arms length, lifted her up off the ground and slammed her down into the gooey pit.
“Another classic ‘Big Momma’ body slam,” yelled the MC. “Big Momma has been our Ultimate Winner here at Wicked Whip eleven times. If she wins tonight, she will join only two others in our All Time Winners Hall of Fame.”
Target had carefully watched the fourteen matches that preceded hers. She was trying to figure out what she had to do to win. She thought she had it. She had to keep her hands close to her sides so her opponent couldn’t grab her waist, but not too close so her arms couldn’t get pinned. She had to stay slightly crouched to hold her waist back, but not so far crouched that she could be pulled over.
“I can do this,” she thought to herself as her wrists were uncuffed and she was led to the slime pit. “I can do this,” she assured herself as she looked at her opponent, a frail-looking girl about two-thirds her size. “I can do this,” she said out loud as she scooped up double handfuls of the lubricant gel and smeared it over her arms and breasts and legs and between her legs. “I can do this,” she said firmly as she looked into the small face of her opponent.
Target moved slowly around the pit waiting for the girl to attempt to grab her. She knew that was your most vulnerable point and where several of the previous fighters had been defeated. As they lunged forward to grab their opponent, they themselves were grabbed and thrown to the slimy floor of the pit. Target waited, but the frail, little girl didn’t lunge. She didn’t even try to grab Target’s waist. Instead, after several circles of the pit by both fighters, she suddenly dropped to her left knee and just as suddenly brought her right hand upward between Target’s legs. The fingers of the tiny hand were held together to form a pointed wedge that drove directly into Targets pussy lips. The hand was full of slime which squished out between the fingers as the hand drove rapidly and painfully inside Target’s cunt. Then the girl stood up and lifted upward with her right hand while holding onto her right wrist with her left hand.
Target screamed louder than she had ever remembered screaming before. She bucked against the intrusion, but the hand was deep inside her. The girl pulled Target towards her and then shoved her with her shoulder so that Target fell backwards into the slime. The smaller girl then pumped her hand rapidly in and out of Target several times while smearing more slime across Target’s face and hair.
Target tried to yell, but it just came out a guttural moan. The winner then pulled her hand free and patted Target on the belly while saying to her, “I’ll see you later honey when I get a crack at The Ultimate Loser… because that is going to be you tonight.” She then stood up, held her hands in a victory pose, and walked out of the stage area.
A few moments later the final pair entered the slime pit. It was over almost immediately as one of the fighters reached over with her leg and pulled the foot of her opponent forward. “You almost had to want to lose to fall for that,” thought Target as she watched the girl splash into the slime. Looking at the other seven still in the losers bracket she asked herself, “How many of these girls entered in hopes that they would be The Ultimate Loser?”
“It is time for our first reward and punishment. Our eight winners to this point will each receive $100. Our losers receive ten with the belt. You each received an entry ticket into the belt lottery for tonight. The winning numbers are displayed on the screen. If you hold a winning ticket, come forward, get one of the belts and get in position.”
Soon five men and three women were standing behind the loser’s platforms. “I want to hear those belts snap when they hit ass flesh,” instructed the MC. Then he asked the crowd, “Are you ready to count?”
“Yes!” screamed the crowd. Then they yelled out “One!”
Target screamed as the belt slammed into her ass.
“Two!”
Target screamed again.
By the time the crowd yelled “Ten!” Target was unable to scream anymore. She was crying incoherently and nearly falling over the railing to which her hands were cuffed.
“After another short break to refill drinks and reset the stage,” announced the MC. “We will continue with round three.”
= = = = = =
It was almost a half-hour later before the slime pit was drained, disassembled and removed from the stage area. In its place a large plexiglass room had been erected that took up the entire open area at the front of the building. The crew was setting up large boxes and barrels throughout the room. After everything was set, the MC returned to his microphone.
“Our next contest will be a group contest rather than one on one. The eight winners will compete together, and then the eight losers. This is a paintball competition. The winner is the one who has hit the greatest number of their opponents while not being hit themselves. Two points for every time you hit an opponent. Minus one point for every paintball spot on you. We will provide protection for your eyes, but the rest of your body will be open to strikes and a paintball makes a rather painful pop when it hits open skin.”
Target had never played paintball before and was unsure even of how the equipment worked. Each person had a rifle-looking gun with a large hopper on top of it. Evidently the paintballs were in the hopper and fired out the end of the barrel. Actually that was all she needed to know.
She watched the first match to see if she could get some pointers, but except for the fact that you needed to hide from your opponent but still needed to be able to see them to shoot them, she learned nothing. She did note that Big Mamma seemed to be able to pop up from behind a box or barrel, fire four or five shots and then disappear before anyone could get a bead on her. She also seemed to be able to move around the room almost like a ninja, suddenly being behind an opponent who thought she was in front of them. When the round was finished, Big Momma, two other women, and a man were the final four winners.
Target and the other seven were led into the plexiglass room. There were colored splotches on the walls and on the various boxes and barrels. “If you shoot before the command to begin, you are an automatic loser,” instructed the MC. “But other than that, anything is fair.”
The MC stepped back out of the enclosure and yelled, “Begin!”
Target wasn’t sure what she planned to do, but she definitely had not planned on a group attack. Four of the girls must have conspired together. As soon as the MC had yelled “Begin!” they ran together to form a tight group that could protect each other while at the same time hunting down the others. Had it been real guns, it would have been called a massacre. The four conspirators had only one or two hits on their bodies while the other four – especially Target – were covered with colored bruises.
“I understand this one’s name is ‘Target,'” laughed the MC pointing at Target’s splattered body. “We might have to put something in the rules against working together like that, but since it isn’t there yet, we have four clear losers. The non-losers may leave. The semi-finalist losers take your positions on the punishment benches.”
Four spanking benches were pushed into the center of the battle room. Target was unsure what to do, but one of the burly security people dragged her over to a bench and forced her to kneel on the raised pad. He strapped her legs in place, and then pulling her body over the higher padded area, he strapped her wrists to a bracket low on the other side. Her ass was in the perfect position for striking.
There was a muffled pffft sound and Target screamed. “I really shouldn’t have done that,” snickered the MC as he handed the paintball gun back to one of the crew members, “but with a name like ‘Target’ and pussy lips that look like a bull’s eye, I just couldn’t resist.” The audience all laughed as they looked carefully at Target’s ass. The MC had indeed hit the bulls eye. The inner fold of Target’s labia was stained a deep green.
“At this level, the four winners, as part of their reward, get to help with the punishment of the losers.” The MC handed large, wooden paddles to the four semi-finalist winners. Target noticed that Big Momma was taking a position behind her. “Hit in sequence,” instructed the MC. “At the end of the sequence, the audience will count the swat. The audience will also keep track of which hit they thought was the strongest and will vote at the end to see which winner gets an additional $100 for the strongest arm.”
“Ready,” the MC asked.
In response the paddles began swinging. Splat, splat, splat, splat, “One!” Splat, splat, splat, splat, “Two!” Splat, splat, splat, splat, “Three!” And so it continued. All four of the losers were screaming themselves horse by the time the count got up to twenty. It wasn’t until after the paddling has stopped that Target realized that she had pissed herself.
“Let’s get some cream on those asses,” said the MC, “They have two more rounds to go.”
Stage hands wearing disposable rubber gloves hurried in and smeared some sort of ointment on the bruised and bleeding behinds of the four losers. All four renewed their screaming as soon as the cream was applied.
“I didn’t say it would stop the pain,” said the MC with a shrug. “I said it would enable them to finish the contest.” He laughed and added, “Actually it hurts like hell, but it stops the bleeding and prevents infection. Save the painkiller buzz for the winners, right everybody?”
The audience responded with shouts of affirmation. Someone yelled, “Right! Let ’em suffer. They’re LOSERS!”
The stage crew had disassembled the plexiglass room in a remarkably short time and had set up what appeared to be a raised wrestling ring in its place.
“This is a relatively simple contest,” began the MC. “To win,” he explained, “you just have to shove this ass-spear” – holding up a rather large butt plug shaped dildo with an overly long handle on it – “up your opponent’s ass.”
He held the unit up higher and said, “Do you see those little bands of metal near the base of the dildo above the protector bar on the handle? They will sense the skin contact of an asshole closing down over it and the handle will light up. Judges will know for sure that it is in place and we will have a definite winner and a definite non-winner.”
Target noticed for the first time that in the winner’s bracket you had winner’s and non- winners, but in her bracket, you only had losers and non-losers. There were no winners in the losers bracket.
The first two contestants from the winners bracket climbed into the ring. Both were holding one of the ass-spears. After a considerable amount of grappling and wrestling, the male contestant finally succeeded in pinning the female to the mat face down. Then sitting on top of her, he pushed the ass-spear into her rectum until the handle lit.
“A winner!” shouted the MC. As the “non-winner” started to pull the spear from her ass, he added, “Do that back stage… in case anything comes out with it.” She waddled off with the handle still sticking out of her ass and blinking.
The second match was over almost as soon as it had begun. Big Momma launched herself at her opponent and took her down with a scissor lock around the abdomen. As soon as they both hit the mat, Big Momma rolled so that her opponent’s shoulders were slammed into the mat and then reached up with one hand and pushed the hapless woman’s legs down over her face. With the same motion she plunged the ass-spear home. There was several seconds of absolute silence before the audience erupted into wild cheers and applause.
“And that’s why you don’t want to mess with Big Momma,” yelled the MC. “I don’t think we will see anything like that from our losers, but you never know.”
Then directly addressing the four losers, he added, “And just to give you losers some added encouragement to at least TRY to win, the ass-spears used in the losers bracket don’t just blink. They give off a high voltage pulse with every flash of the light.”
Target cringed at the thought. The audience, however, cheered and stomped their feet.
The first round in the losers bracket was between a slightly balding man and a young woman with extremely short hair. Neither had hair in their crotch. The match went very much like the first round in the winner’s bracket with both fighters grappling and tugging until finally one of them pinned the other to the mat and pushed the ass-spear home. The light began blinking and the girl pinned to the mat began howling, “Take it out! Take it out! Please, take it out!”
“You heard me before,” said the MC. “You have to go backstage before that comes out.”
The girl struggled to her feet and, crying in pain, stumbled across the stage, her body pulsing and quivering in time to the flashing light in her ass.
“I have to win,” thought Target to herself. “I can win,” she said aloud. “I will win!” she said forcefully. But less than a minute later, she, too, was wailing in pain and struggling to waddle across the arena to the backstage area where she thought her painful intruder would be removed.
A few moments later, however, two of the more muscular stage hands pushed a large platform back out into the center of the stage. In the center of the platform were two poles that held a crossbeam about seven feet in the air. Hanging from that crossbeam, facing each other and strapped together at the waist were Target and the loser from the first semi-final match. Both were screaming and moaning in time to the pulsing lights in their asses.
“I guess I forgot to mention that the loser’s spears cannot be removed until they have timed out.” The audience laughed. “So why don’t we give the servers a chance to take more drink and food orders and we will get set up for the final challenges.”
= = = = = =
About fifteen minutes later the ass-spears quit blinking and Target and the other loser, sweaty and exhausted from screaming in pain, hung limply from the straps that held their wrists to the cross bar.
Meanwhile, a set of low stocks had been set up in one of the corners of the ring.
“Take them back stage and hose them off,” instructed the MC and the two female stage hands pushed the platform into the back area.
“And now, Ladies and Gentlemen,” yelled the MC in his announcer cadence, “we come to our final contests of the evening. In a few moments we will know who is The Ultimate Winner and who is The Ultimate Loser.” Lasers and strobe lights flashed throughout the building and the crowd stomped their approval.
“This is an all-out no-holds-barred old fashioned wrasslin’ match.” growled the MC. “In order to win, you must totally defeat your opponent. That means that your opponent must submit to you and surrender… or you have to overpower your opponent and lock them into the stocks. If any contestant wishes to submit and surrender they must say ‘I submit’ or ‘I surrender’ and then voluntarily put themselves into the stocks or allow themselves to be put into the stocks. The non-winner in the winners match will be released from the stocks as soon as the winner is declared. The loser in the losers match will remain in the stocks until we start the party because they are THE ULTIMATE LOSER.”
The two finalists in the winners bracket were a tall, well muscled man, and Big Momma. They were evenly matched and both were down on the mat at one time or another with the other trying hard to drag them over to the stocks. Neither, however, was able to completely overwhelm the other until the man suddenly grabbed Big Momma between the legs. It was obvious that his thumb had penetrated her cunt and he was trying hard to push at least one of his fingers up her ass so that he could hold onto her like a bowling ball.
Big Momma just smiled at him and said, “Big Mistake.” Then she pulled her legs together and squeezed tight while she dropped to the ground and rolled. There was a loud snap and the man screamed in pain. Big Momma rolled off him, and his arm dropped limp from her crotch. She grabbed him with her hands locked beneath his stomach. One of her arms was over his shoulder and the other was between his legs as she picked him up and deposited him in front of the stocks. She put his head and his good arm in the openings and closed the upper board. A loud bell indicated that the judges agreed with her decision not to put the broken arm in the stocks.
“That is a twelfth Ultimate Winner victory of Big Momma!” yelled the MC. Two crewmen in black shirts and another in a white shirt with a medical emblem on it came into the ring to tend to the “non-winner.”
Target and her opponent had been brought back into the arena in time to see the end of the winners match. Both were trembling. The other girl leaned close to Target and said, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I can’t lose again. I’ve already got two brands. If I get branded a third time, I will be sold as a slave to the highest bidder. I have to win. If you don’t submit, I will break you worse than Big Momma broke David.”
Target just stared at her. First, there was no way that she would intentionally lose. And secondly, what did this girl mean about being branded? Before Target had a chance to ask any questions, however, they were pushed into the ring and the announcer cried out, “Begin!”
Neither girl was overly large or powerful, but both were fighting as if their lives depended on it. Target head butted the girl and drove her to the mat, but was not able to hold her down. A few moments later, the girl jumped on Target’s back and began pounding her head into the back of Target’s. After trying a spin to throw the girl off her back, Target was able to break free simply by falling onto her back and rolling clear.
They were both tiring and Target knew that she had to act soon while she still the strength to act. She formed her hand into a wedge like the smaller girl had used to defeat her in the slime pit. She knew that if she could drive her hand into the girl’s cunt like had been done to her, she could control her and win. But what she hadn’t counted on was this girl grabbing for her tits at the same time that she was going for her cunt.
The force of two hands slamming into her breasts killed any momentum Target had for driving her hand into the girl’s pussy. She ended up with her hand flailing uselessly between the girl’s legs as she, herself, was driven backwards onto the mat. The girl had her hands almost flat against Target’s chest at the base of her tits while squeezing as hard as she could to bring her thumbs and fingers into a tight circle. Target felt as if her breasts were going to be torn from her body.
“Say it,” said the girl in horse whisper. “Say, ‘I submit.'”
Target shook her head no.
“Say it,” said the girl again. This time squeezing even tighter with her hands.
Target broke. “I submit… I submit… I submit…” she screamed, thinking only of ending the pain.
The girl relaxed her grip but did not let go. Instead she partly dragged Target and partly forced her to her crawl across the mat until her head was in the stocks. Then, after placing Target’s hands in the cutouts, the girl slammed the upper brace down locking Target in place.
“We have a submission. We have a Ultimate Loser.” Yelled the MC. “Oh, the shame,” he continued in a mocking voice, “…. not only to be The Ultimate Loser, but she didn’t even go down fighting.”
What she had done finally sank in, and Target began to cry loudly and struggle against the restraint of the stocks, but it was too late.
“Thank you to all our contestants this evening,” cried out the MC. “All of you non-winners in the winners bracket and non-losers in the losers bracket can enter again next month. Who knows, maybe next month you will be our Ultimate Winner!” He dropped his voice to a much lower level and stage whispered. “…or our Ultimate Loser.”
“Our Ultimate Loser tonight is Target, but since The Ultimate Loser loses EVERYTHING, including her name, for the rest of the night, she is just LOSER.”
The audience began chanting, “Loo-ser!… Loo-ser!… Loo-ser!… Loo-ser!.”
The MC turned to some of the stage hands gathered just outside the lights and ordered, “String her up between the posts and we will properly prepare her for the evening.”
Target was now almost in shock. She was not sure what lay in store for her, but she was sure it was bad. Four security men grabbed her, one on each arm and one on each leg and pulled her across the ring. They then lifted her over the ropes, hoisted her to her feet, and stood her between two poles that had been brought out to the center of the stage area. Her hands were stretched high above her and her legs were widely spread as she was bound between the poles. She was barely able to stand on tiptoe, so most of her weight was supported by her arms.
“Loser,” began the MC. “As a symbol of the fact that you have lost everything, you will also lose all of the hair on your body.” He put his hand against his chest and smiled at her. “As an act of mercy from my kind heart, we will allow you to keep your eyelashes, but everything else must go.”
He turned to the audience and added with a laugh, “She must not have considered that she might lose or she would have already trimmed the bush. We don’t use clippers down there… do we?”
The crowd roared “No!” and started laughing.
Target, now Loser, tried to pull against her bonds as a man in a white coat approached with a set of hair clippers. He started at the top of her forehead and buzzed a path straight through to the back of her neck. The clippers buzzed again and again as Loser watched her hair cascade down across her body. “She kept crying softly, ‘No, no, no, no, no..”
Finally the barber was finished with her head. He took a smaller clipper out of his pocket and turned it on. It made a much higher pitched sound as he buzzed off her eyebrows. Then he left the stage.
A scantily clad woman with a large blond wig came on stage. She was dressed in a caricature of a beautician’s smock, and was carrying what looked like a small crockpot which she set down between loser’s legs. “Oooh,” she said in a high falsetto voice, “We need to trim the grass a little before we pull the weeds.”
Everyone laughed as she pulled a pair of scissors from her pocket and clipped loser’s neatly trimmed bush down to almost skin level. Then she took a flat stick from her pocket and dipped out something from the pot.
Loser screamed as the hot wax touched her skin. It wasn’t that it was that hot, but she wasn’t prepared for the sensation. Loser then felt the pressure of a cloth being pressed against the wax as it was cooling. She screamed again because she knew what was coming next. There was a strong tug and a ripping sound and pain like a wire cleaning brush being slammed against her skin.
Target / Loser had once had her legs waxed and vowed to never do it again because of the pain. She would never have thought to wax her sex, and yet that is what was being done against her will. More hot wax was applied, this time in the crack of her ass cheeks. Another cloth was pressed into the wax before it cooled, and then another tug, another ripping sound, and another scream. This repeated again and again without change except for the fact that the screams became continuous as the waxing proceeded to Target’s arms and legs.
After all traces of hair were gone from her entire body, the beautician looked off stage and said, “She’s ready.”
The MC returned carrying something that looked like an oversized flashlight. It was totally black and had a large button on the side. He held it up to the audience to show them a name on the side. It said “Laser Tat” in bright red letters. The MC then pointed it at the back wall and pressed a button. The coiled Wicked Whip logo appeared on the wall in bright green light.
“Fifteen seconds,” he said, “and tonight’s Ultimate Loser is branded a loser forever.”
Target did not quite comprehend what he meant, but then he came over and pressed the open end of the device against her pubic bone just above the opening to her cunt. “Hold her,” he said and two security men pushed Target forward against her bonds so that she was held taut. The MC checked that the device was properly placed and pressed the button. Target screamed as a thousand tiny fires raced across her skin.
When he removed the device, the coiled Wicked Whip was expertly branded into her skin. The detail created by the laser was precise. It looked very much like a tattoo, but was branded totally into the skin rather than just being pigment in the upper layer.
Target continued to cry and whimper but at least the preparation was finally over. The “beautician” took a bottle of lotion from her pocket and began to rub it into the now smooth area between Target’s legs. At first the lotion felt soothing, but then Loser began to squirm as the hand rubbing her began to be more than soothing and the beautician’s fingers began to slide deeper and deeper into her cleft.
Target / Loser felt the beautician’s other hand now on her backside, full of more lotion. Fingers began to slide between her ass cheeks and into her slit, tantalizing her clit and prodding and poking into her inner places. Fingers slid in and out of her ass and her cunt and loser again began to moan – now not in pain, but in arousal. She could feel herself turning red as the shame and embarrassment of what her body was doing began to become real to her.
Everything that had preceded this was beyond her control, there was no shame in that. But this was her own doing. She was allowing herself to become turned on by a stranger’s hands while she was hanging naked on stage. And even more shameful was the fact that the thought of what her body was doing in front of strangers made the fires within her burn even brighter. Loser’s hips began to buck and her body began to writhe in her bonds.
“Tell us what you are,” ordered the beautician.
“I don’t know what you mean,” gasped Loser.
“Yes you do. You know exactly what I mean. Tell us what you are or I will stop.”
“No!” yelled Loser. Then she continued in a pleading voice, “Don’t stop! Please…, don’t stop.”
“Then tell us what you are and what you want,” taunted the woman. She pinched Loser’s clit and twisted it slightly with her fingers.
“What are you? What kind of woman would enter a contest knowing that she had no chance to win and could become The Ultimate Loser? What kind of woman would be turned on by hanging naked in front of a paying audience? What kind of woman would enjoy having her cunt played with in public. What is that kind of woman are you? What are you?”
She once again pinched Loser’s clit hard between the tips of her fingers. Loser cried out in an almost scream and yelled, “She’s a slut!” She started crying and continued, “I’m a slut! I’m a slut who wanted to be degraded in public! I’m a slut who will do anything to cum! Please, make me cum! Please, please, please, please, please…, make me cum!”
The audience was screaming “No! NO! Make her suffer!” The MC came back onto the stage and asked, “Loser, do you want to cum?”
Loser hung her head and answered in a hoarse whisper, “Yes!”
The audience laughed and she cried out, “Please let me cum!”
Turning to the audience the MC announced, “Big Momma, as Ultimate Winner, has claimed first rights. But Loser will be available for any and all of you who have purchased special tickets. When your ticket number comes up on the screen, come forward and take what Loser has no choice but to give.”
Two stage hands released Loser from the straps and dragged her across the stage. Big Momma was lying back on a large pillow with her legs spread out in front of her. Additional pillows supported her head and shoulders so that it looked as if she were sitting in a big comfortable chair.
As Loser was thrust down between her legs, Momma said, “If you cum before I do, I will take you back into that ring and personally tear you apart. If you don’t hold back your cum, you will feel pain from me that will make everything to this point seem like pleasure. I don’t care how many men you give your pussy or your ass to, but your orgasm and your mouth are mine until you have brought me off twice. Now get you sorry-ass mouth down her and start licking and sucking…. and you had better make it really good or that bus won’t be taking you home tonight.”
Loser felt sexual heat boiling up inside her like she had never felt before, but somehow she held back her climax and lowered her lips to Big Momma’s open cunt. As she began to lap at the juices seeping from that slit, she felt someone grab her hips from behind and suddenly a prick was thrust forcefully into her own sopping slit.
The thrusts of the person behind her forced her face harder into Big Momma’s crotch and forced her tongue deeper between Momma’s labia. She began trying to find Momma’s clit so that she could start taking her to her first orgasm. She found it, and Loser’s tongue was soon licking circles around Big Momma’s love button.
Momma was bucking furiously against Loser’s face, but Momma was a woman of endurance. Two men had already spent themselves in Loser before Momma began moaning. The third man chose the less traveled route and entered Loser’s ass, but she was so absorbed in trying to make Momma climax, that she hardly noticed. While the fifth, or perhaps it was the sixth, man erupted into her cunt, Loser finally felt the quivers of an orgasm beginning in Big Momma. She licked and sucked and rubbed her face across Momma’s steaming cunt. Finally with a deep grunt Big Momma snapped her legs together, almost crushing loser’s head between her massive thighs.
Loser thought she would suffocate before Momma’s legs relaxed slightly and Momma’s voice boomed out, “That’s one.” She laughed and added in a softer voice, “The second one always takes a lot longer, honey, so you’d better get back to work with that tongue.”
It did take a lot longer. Loser lost track of how many men fucked her cunt and ass while she tried to bring Big Momma to a second orgasm. It was becoming harder and harder for her to even move because her own body wanted to explode, but Big Momma had not yet even started to breathe heavily.
Finally, about the time the dyke with the strapon attacked her ass, Loser started to feel the swelling in Momma’s clit that meant an orgasm was starting to build. She lost herself in licking and sucking thinking only – perhaps even saying out loud – “When Momma cums, I can cum…. When Momma cums, I can cum…. When Momma cums, I can cum.”
Eventually Momma was moaning and grunting and Loser was grunting just as loud between her legs trying desperately to hold back a raging flood. Finally, Momma let out a tremendous guttural roar and once again clamped down on Loser’s face with her thighs.
Freed now to climax, Loser exploded. Her face was trapped on Momma’s cunt, but the rest of her body jumped and thrashed as she experienced an unbelievable orgasm that seemed to continue forever. The man who was trying to fuck her from behind was thrown off. He grabbed her, pushed her down, and re-entered her, this time anally. Loser exploded again. Momma released her head and slid from beneath her.
Loser was vaguely aware of the MC’s voice calling out, “She’s all your’s ladies and gentlemen. You’ve got an hour until closing time so make the best of it.” And then suddenly she was awash in a sea of cocks and cunts. Some were in or against her mouth; some were in her ass; some were in her cunt. At one point she was pretty sure that there were two pricks in her cunt at the same time, but everything was blurred by a overwhelming haze of unbelievable lust like she had never felt before. Finally, a loud bell sounded and the MC announced, “Closing time. Time to let Loser crawl home until next month.”
Target / Loser felt Big Momma pull her up to her feet and walk her out the door of the club and back to the van. She was naked and dripping with sweat, beer and cum. Big Momma threw her face down on an old rug in the back of the van and said, “Don’t want you rollin’ ’round back here.” She spread her arms and tied her hands to the supports of the front seat and then spread her legs and tied her feet to the attachment slots for the backmost of the rear seats.
A few minutes later the van started up and drove into the night. Target actually slept for most of the trip back. She was awakened by the sun shining through the windows of the van and by the bouncing of the van as it went down what was obviously a not-very-well maintained gravel road. The bouncing lessened when the van slowed and turned off into what appeared to be a farm yard. At least Target thought she could see a barn through the window of the van.
The rear doors opened. Big Momma untied the ropes and pulled Target from the van. Another person was standing a little ways away holding what appeared to be a large video camera.
Big Momma carried Target over into an old, fenced section of the barnyard and literally threw her out into a large muddy area that stank of pig manure. “You’ve got a choice, Target,” said Momma. “You can do what I tell you to do and I drive away leaving you here, or you can refuse and I take you back behind the barn and bury you with the dead pigs. Your choice.”
“What do I have to do?” asked Target. Her voice was quivering. After all she had been through, what could be demanded of her that was lower than what had already been done.
“My client wants one final image of you degrading yourself.” yelled back Big Momma. “But you have to do it to yourself.”
Target stifled a cry, but her lower jaw was trembling as she waited for Big Momma to finish.
“If you want me to leave you here alive, you lay down in that pig wallow and you roll yourself around until you are good and covered with mud and pig shit. Then I want you to lay on your back in the middle of that muck and masturbate yourself to climax. And make sure it’s real, ’cause the camera is going to do a real tight closeup of your face for the big ‘O’.”
Target slowly fell to her knees and began to scoop up mud and smear it on her body. “Don’t pick it up,” yelled Momma, “Roll in it.” Target fell on her side and began to turn slowly in the mud and muck.
After she had rolled completely over three or four times and was covered from head to toe in the black slime, Momma yelled, ‘That’s good enough. Now let’s see you rub that mud into your twat until you cum.”
Target lay back and put her hands between her legs and slowly began rubbing herself. There was no response from her body. It wasn’t until she looked over and saw the cameraman leaning against the fence obviously zooming in on a close up between her legs that suddenly she felt the heat rising within her. “Oh God!” she said aloud, “How can I be turned on by this. Having someone make of video of me doing this is turning me on! Knowing that this could be on the internet forever is taking me to orgasm. What am I? What have I become?”
Soon she was chanting an answer to her own question, loudly yelling, “Slut…, Slut…, Slut…, Slut…, Slut…, Slut…, Slut…,” in time with the rhythm of her hands until her chant turned into a wail and she arched her back high into the air with her hands held tightly over her clit.
What seemed like a long time later, her body began to relax. As her muscles released, her heels slipped suddenly in the mud, and she slapped back down into the muck and lay there breathing heavily.
She heard an engine start. As she lifted her head to see what was happening, she could see a blue van pulling out onto the gravel road and speeding away. Target slowly lifted her sore body up out of the pig wallow and walked over toward the barn looking for a hose or something to wash the filth from her body.
= = = = = = = =
Three days later Mary Morrison received a package by special messenger that had been relayed through two other special messenger companies. It was a finished video disk and several disks of raw video. She sat down with a glass of wine to watch what she hoped would be exactly what she asked for. It was. Big Momma and her video team had captured every detail of everything that was done to The Target.
Mary replayed the final images of Target masturbating in the pig wallow several times, finally letting it play as she stroked herself to a very satisfying orgasm.
The video even had credits at the end. Mary watched as the names of the cameraman and video editors were scrolled across the screen like at the end of a major motion picture. When the credits ended, Big Momma appeared on the screen. She was looking straight at the camera as she spoke.
“I’ve done some weird shit for weird people in my life,” she began, “but Mary, you are the weirdest. I know you checked me out very carefully before you hired me, but I checked you out just as carefully. I was impressed by how you made it impossible for anyone to trace anything back to you. I never would have found you tracing things back, but once you gave me the name of The Target, I traced things forward when I checked her out.”
Momma smiled and looked directly into the camera, “I knew who you were from before I filmed you fucking yourself with that dildo on your apartment balcony.”
Mary gasped as she watched Big Momma speak directly to her. Momma’s eyes were now looking directly into Mary’s eyes.
“You planned your fantasy vacation very carefully from the moment where The Target – you – were pulled into my van, to the final scene where I dumped you into the pig pen at your grandmother’s farm.”
Momma smiled a broad smile. “Yes, I knew it was your grandmother’s farm. The one you inherited. I know you rent out the land, but use the buildings as a vacation retreat. I also know that you won a whole lot more money in that lottery than people think you did. You bought two tickets with different big ball numbers when you were on that business trip to Pennsylvania. One was almost the jackpot. That’s the one you told everyone about. The other was the full jackpot that you claimed through a dummy corporation in another state.”
Mary sat mesmerized by what she was seeing and hearing on the screen. Big Momma continued, “I know you can afford it, but honey, don’t waste your money setting this up again with somebody else. If you want to go back up to the Wicked Whip, just give me a call. I’ll pick you up and take you up there any weekend. Hell, I’ll even tie you up and make you ride naked in the back with a dildo buzzin in both holes – no charge.”
The camera zoomed in a little tighter on Momma’s face. Her voice became softer, “And if you lose two more times, I’ll buy your sorry ass so you can be my personal slave all of the time. I ain’t quiet as rich as you are, but honey, I am just as kinky and I know I could outbid anyone else there except you.”
Big Momma laughed. The camera zoomed out to full frame. Momma was standing there naked and oiled. The lights glistened on her muscular body. “We could have some GOOD times together, honey. You told the people at that office you work at that you were going on a one- month fantasy vacation. That was almost true, but your fantasy – so far – has only lasted one weekend.”
A phone number appeared on the bottom of the screen. “Give me a call and we can find something else to do with the next three weeks… and maybe even longer than that.”
Mary picked up the remote and reset the video back to the scene in the pig pen. While it was playing, she brought up her email program and opened the draft letter of resignation that she had written but never sent after she found out that she had been a big winner in the lottery. She pushed the SEND button. Then, watching herself masturbating in the mud, she picked up her phone and called Big Momma.
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END OF STORY
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