Chris s Surprise Prize Part 3
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Eyes On The Prize - Chapter 7 free porn video
EYES ON THE PRIZE - CHAPTER SEVEN
"So, Stacey," said the interviewer, glancing down at his notes and then
looking at me over the glasses perched on his nose. "That's quite an
outfit you have on! It really suits you. Am I right?"
This last was directed to the all-male audience that I could sense rather
than see past the glare of the lights. That they were all men I'd been
able to tell when I made my entrance, sweeping (as best as I could) down
the catwalk that ran down the middle of the room, before returning to the
stage. Fortunately, my practice in heels had paid off well enough for me
not just to make the journey, but earn applause and not a few catcalls. A
reaction that was repeated now as the men responded to the interviewer's
query.
I badly wanted to say that the outfit didn't suit me at all. That it was
ridiculous for a man like me to be wearing lacy black underwear and
patterned tights, much less a mesh top with lace sleeves, a leather skirt
and thigh-high boots with ludicrously high heels. To say nothing of the
long blonde hair and heavy makeup ...
But I didn't say any of that, because I couldn't. I wasn't going to make
it out of captivity by revealing my true gender. Instead, I had to
pretend the exact opposite. Being as feminine as I could was the only
realistic way out. Because I would score more points that way and improve
my chances of winning the bizarre competition in which I had been
forcibly entered ...
So rather than rolling my eyes or hotly protesting, I simpered and said,
"Oh thank you, that's so sweet!" Pushing my luck perhaps, I reached
forward and patted the man opposite me on the knee. Was that the kind of
gesture an attractive and vivacious young woman would make? I hoped so.
But just in case it looked as artificial as it felt, I rather
ostentatiously crossed and recrossed my legs. They were my best feature,
after all, so no harm in drawing attention to them - or so I hoped.
"So, what made you want to be a model?" The question threw me for a
second. But I'd been training myself to avoid hasty reactions and think
through what to do next in strange or stressful moments. So I simply
smiled vapidly and said, "Well ..."
I pretended to weigh up the options, while in fact searching for anything
that would sound vaguely plausible. "The clothes, I think," I said
eventually. "You know, I love shopping and the chance to wear so many
fantastic outfits ... And, I suppose I'm quite the exhibitionist, so the
chance to go down the catwalk in front of lots of people - well, it's
quite a turn on for me." I gave a high-pitched giggle, a grating sound to
me, but hopefully suggestive of the kind of airhead I was trying to play.
If I'd struck any kind of false note with that, the interviewer wasn't
giving anything away. Instead, he just smiled indulgently and moved on to
the next question, "And do you have any plans to go into acting at all?"
"Oh definitely," I said, nodding vigorously, "my agent's exploring a
number of film opportunities."
"Really? What kind of roles would you be expecting to take on?"
I hesitated, then decided to give the first response that had occurred to
me. It was risky, but so was the whole Competition. And I'd been
specifically told that to do well in this test I had to be authentically
female, but also sexy. Oh well, in for a penny ...
"Oh, you know, the usual kind of thing - threesomes, DPs, BBCs ..."
There was an explosion of laughter from the audience, and not a few
cheers. The interviewer looked round at the crowd, his puzzled expression
making it clear that unlike some of them, he had no idea of what I was
talking about.
"I'm sorry," he said, "but I'm not sure I understand the reference to
directors of photography. Or, um, the British Broadcasting Corporation?"
That prompted more laughter. I gave a beatific smile. "Oh no. I mean
double penetrations and, you know ..." - I dropped my voice to a stage
whisper which could still be heard at the back of the Studio - "big black
cocks". The laughter now was louder and verged in some cases on hysteria.
"You mean ..."
"Sure, adult films. I mean, after the success of the sex tape ..." My
improvisation was becoming positively reckless now, but for some reason I
didn't care. Perhaps it was the freedom that came from having points in
the bank, having done so well with Madison in the first test of this
third round.
"I mean, I'm not even sure which of the five guys had the camera, and,
you know I kind of had my hands full at the time. And other things full
as well, if you know what I mean ..."
The audience certainly did, and the shocked expression on the
interviewer's face suggested he was catching up too.
"So," I finished, "I was a bit unhappy when it hit the internet, but I
had so many great offers out of it. It was just a matter of figuring
which were ones were legal, or, you know, physically possible ..."
The room was in uproar now. Deciding I'd gone far enough, I leaned back
in my seat, took a sip of water and recrossed my legs.
After order had been restored, I fielded a few more questions about
beauty tips, which were easy enough given all the homework I'd been
forced to do on the subject. That left one final challenge. The
interviewer had recovered his composure and was once again smiling at me
encouragingly.
"Stacey, it's been a pleasure talking to you. But before we let you go,
perhaps you could tell us the most important goal you have right now?"
Well, that was easy. Get out of this fucking prison. But I knew that
wasn't immediately possible, even here in the Studio without a guard in
sight. They'd appear quickly enough if I tried to do or say anything out
of turn. For all I knew, the whole audience was in on the scheme to
torment me and the other poor saps who'd been lured here, then seized and
forcibly feminised.
I briefly considered making another joke about my sexual exploits, but
quickly decided I'd done more than enough on that theme. So better to
play it a little safer, while still sticking with the persona I was
trying to project.
"Well, you know, I'm very lucky to look the way I do - and I have a lot
of people to thank for that. So I guess I'd just like to make the most of
my looks while I have them - in whatever way I can." It wasn't particular
inspired, but it had the merit of being largely true - plus I paired it
with what I hoped was a winning smile. The audience seemed to like it
well enough, and I walked off the stage to applause and a few more wolf
whistles.
The guard who had escorted me to the test was waiting backstage. "Funny
fucker, aren't you?" she growled as she led me away. I wanted to punch
her sneering face. But she was far stronger than me, even without
allowing for all the equipment and backup she could use to take control
of any situation. So I kept a straight face as she led me back to my
cell.
I spent a solitary afternoon doing yoga and watching some "next top
model," show or other - perhaps a bit late, but I did manage to pick up
some pointers that might be useful if today's exercise was ever repeated.
At dinner time, I was allowed to rejoin the other girls. Although we were
given no instructions about where to sit, it was notable that the
previous day's groups seemed to spontaneously re-form. So it was that I
found myself at a table again with Madison, Kaylee and Amber. We started
by making small talk, while looking nervously at one another. It was
pretty clear what everyone was thinking, so eventually I decided to force
the issue.
Strolling over to the nearest guard, I asked, "Excuse me ma'am, sorry to
bother you - but can you tell us if we're allowed to talk about what
happened to us in today's test?"
The guard gave me a "how the fuck would I know," look and opened her
mouth to say something along those lines. But then her hand went to her
earpiece. She listened, her eyes flicking to me once or twice. Then she
said in a flat voice, "The boss bitch said it's okay."
"Thank you ma'am," I answered and started to walk back to the table. Then
it registered and I spun back to the guard. "Wait, who said that?" Her
rugged face darkened and I quickly added "ma'am?". The guard stared at me
for a minute, then said, "Her exact words were 'Tell her the boss bitch
said it's okay.' You got a problem with that?"
"No ma'am," I managed to say, and almost ran back to the refuge of the
dinner table. How the hell did the mysterious woman who seemed to be in
charge of this hellhole know what I called her? I tried to think back,
but I couldn't once recall actually using the phrase, though I'd
certainly come close. So did I talk in my sleep maybe? Or could they
somehow read my thoughts? Surely they couldn't do that ...
"So?" Madison's voice brought me back to the here and now. The redhead
was looking at me expectantly as I sat down. I smiled at her, unable to
forget the pleasure of waking up with her in bed this morning. "The bo-,"
I started, then silently cursed myself. "The guard said it's okay to talk
about what happened in our test. So, did everyone have, like, an all-male
audience?"
It turned out they did - and we'd all been asked pretty similar
questions, though there seemed to be a number of different interviewers.
All of us thought we'd done okay, without expressing too much confidence.
I left out some of the more salacious parts of my improvised responses,
in part because if they turned out to have been successful, I wanted to
keep that information to myself.
And, as it turned out, it looked like my gamble had paid off. While we
were eating, the rankings after the second test in Round 3 came up on the
monitor. Natasha was still on top, but Kaylee was up to second - and I
was in third spot. Madison had slipped down to
sixth, while Amber was in big trouble, in eleventh.
I was overjoyed, but worked hard not to show it as we all gave as much
comfort to Amber as we could. "For all we know," said Kaylee in her
characteristically soft tones, "the points could be really tight."
"Yeah," said Amber moodily, "but I'd still rather be in your place than
mine".
"Depends a lot on the last test," I put in, "we could still go up and
down. I'd have been in a lot of trouble in the last round, if it hadn't
been for, ah ..."
"Your mad skills at cocksucking?" said Madison tartly. I blushed and the
others giggled.
"I was going to say, my ability to swallow large objects without
choking," I continued huffily, but then forced a smile. "But yes. I'm not
proud of it."
"Maybe you should be," said Kaylee. "Maybe the next test will be, you
know ..." She paused dramatically, then added, "the real thing?" She gave
a delicate shudder.
"Only if Natasha's bribed someone for that to happen," said Amber darkly,
then laughed along with the rest of us.
The fruitless speculation continued through the rest of dinner, until we
were sent back to our cells. I was rather hoping we might be paired off
again, after what had been an enjoyable (if uncomfortably feminine) night
of lovemaking with Madison. But there was no such luck. Nor did anything
happen the following day until after lunch, following a poledancing class
in our school uniforms. After the agony of waiting to find out what the
third test would be, it was a relief to realise the time had come - until
I discovered what the test would actually be.
I had returned to my room to find a chair set up in front of the
television. I sat down and after about a five minute wait a message
appeared, "Keep your eyes on the screen at all times. You will be tested
on the number of callers you get through in the next two hours. But you
lose points for every unhappy caller. Your time starts ... now."
Callers? What on earth -
"Hello?" The tentative voice was issuing from the television speakers,
but the screen was completely blank. I stared at it, mystified, then
assayed a "Hello?" of my own. The voice of what sounded like an older man
spoke again. "Hi, what's your name, honey?"
"Um, it's Stacey," I said, wondering again why I couldn't see anything.
"What's yours?"
"Er ..." The man sounded unsure of what to say. "It's, er, Matthew."
"Okay Matthew, nice to speak to you." Now what? "So ... what can I do for
you?"
"Well, you know ..."
I really didn't. Presumably, like the previous day's interview, I had to
pass as a female. But if so, why wasn't he asking any questions? Was I
supposed to be selling him something?
"Why are you frowning? Is there something wrong?" His voice sounded
worried.
"No, not at all, I - wait, can you see me?"
"Yes of course," he answered. "Why shouldn't I?" So the camera in my
screen was working, evidently. But the screen itself was still blank.
"But ... I can't see you."
"Well, obviously." He sounded put out by the very idea. "Look," he went
on, clearly irritated now, "this was a mistake, I knew I shouldn't have
called." I waited for him to say something further, but he remained
silent.
"Matthew, I'm sorry, are you still there?" Still nothing. Shit, had he
rung off? I hadn't heard anything. But then there hadn't been any click
or other sound when -
"Hello?" It was a different voice, deeper, a little more cultured.
Knowing now that I could be seen, I forced a smile onto my face and said,
"Hi, I'm Stacey, how are you?"
"Well, hello Stacey. All the better for seeing you, I can tell you."
"Why thank you," I said, reaching up to flick some imaginary hair out of
my eyes. It was a gesture I'd picked up from Natasha. I hesitated, then
decided to risk the same question that hadn't worked with the previous
caller. "What can I do for you?"
"Just keep smiling like that darling - that may be all I need."
All he needed to do what? Oh ... right. That. I should have guessed.
"So," I asked cautiously, "do you like my outfit?"
"Can't see it honey, just your face. You do know how this works, don't
you?"
No, you stupid fucker, I'm trying to figure it out! But instead of saying
that aloud, I mumbled an apology. "Sorry, I forget sometimes. Would you
like me to describe it to you?"
"Oh yes, that would be lovely." I took him through the details of the
school uniform, and the underwear and high-heeled shoes that came with
it. That seemed to excite him, so I talked a little more about how it
felt on me, and how nice it would be if he could put his hands under my
skirt and feel how wet I was. This went down even better.
"Mmmm," he said with appreciation. "So how big are you, Stacey?" How big
was I? Surely he wasn't talking about my height, so it must be ... my
bust, right? Only I didn't have one. Still, if he could only see my face
...
"32 double D," I said, choosing the first number that came into my head.
Though it was probably close to my own preference in women, if truth be
told. Skinny but stacked, I liked them.
"Oh no," said the caller, with a slight tone of reproach. "I mean your
clitty."
"My ... clitty?"
"Oh yes, all femboys have a clitty. Though sometimes it can get big and
hard ... You are a femboy, aren't you Stacey?"
"No!" I protested. "I'm just a girl!"
"Oh." There was a silence, then the caller said flatly, "That's too bad."
The silence extended and I cursed inwardly. And here was I thinking that
I had to -
"Hello?"
There was no time for self-reproach, so I switched my smile back on and
tried again. This one went rather better, until I asked the caller if
he'd like me to take my cock out and stroke it a little bit. He went
mental, yelling something about wanting a "real woman," not a "fucking
tranny". And then once again I was listening to the sound of silence.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shi-
"Hello?" This one was the youngest so far, and easily the most nervous -
though he did volunteer his name as Darren. Working slowly and carefully,
and knowing now to assume absolutely nothing, I gradually worked out that
he was into big-titted schoolgirls with nothing other a regular clitoris
inside their white cotton panties.
Part of the way through, I also remembered that some of my favourite porn
clips to watch had been girls who gave "jerk-off instructions". I tried
coaxing Darren into going slower or faster in wanking himself, asking him
to imagine that he was putting his dick between my beautiful boobs, then
sticking it into my mouth, and wouldn't it be fabulous to slide it into
my wet pussy ...
I kept him going for something like twenty minutes in this way.
Strangely, all the sex talk got me aroused as well, and I had to resist
the urge to touch my taped down cock, which was tingling inside my
panties. Finally, however, Darren couldn't hold it any longer and sprayed
his cum all over my tits ... or so at least I described it. He thanked me
profusely and then rang off, though only after a little small talk in
which I made up a story about how I'd got into doing phone sex work, and
he promised to look out for me on a future roster.
Finally! A satisfied customer at last ... Except I'd taken way too long
with him, hadn't I? The point was to get through as many callers as
possible and bring them to orgasm. And here was I -
"Hello?" I shook my head ruefully, then lavished my warmest smile on the
latest customer. He sounded the oldest so far, and was exceptionally
diffident. I simply couldn't get him to say what he liked or wanted, but
nor did he seem to get upset by the lack of progress.
Eventually, I lost my temper. "Look," I said hotly, or at least as hotly
as the torc around my neck would allow, "why don't I just fuck you with
my big cock and make you squeal like a pig?"
There was an appalled silence. I glared at the screen. Finally, the
customer said in a small voice, "That sounds wonderful."
Things went well after that - for the customer at any rate. Oddly, I felt
very uncomfortable. It was not that I hadn't stuck my cock in someone's
ass before. I loved anal sex and always used to insist on my wife taking
it that way from time to time, even if she didn't like it. Nor was it the
idea of having sex with a man. I'd already had to get over the discomfort
of that with Darren, which I'd done by firmly imagining myself to be the
slutty girl that I was playing.
No, it was that talking about doing anything with my "big hard cock,"
reminded me that not only did I not have one of those at present, I
hadn't done for months now. And I might never have one again, if I
couldn't win the Competition. Still, I managed to fake enough enthusiasm
to bring the old guy to the boil, even if it took quite an effort on both
our parts.
Caller number six was much easier. He just wanted a blowjob from a blonde
babe. I was able to enhance my commentary by using a finger as a phallic
substitute, licking it and lasciviously inserting it into my mouth. I
also made a point of praising him for having such a massive and mouth-
watering cock. This was almost certainly untrue, but he didn't correct
me.
Number seven, by contrast, made it clear that he wanted the exact
opposite. He wanted to be scolded and humiliated for being, as he put it,
such a dirty pervert. This would have surprised me if I hadn't previously
come across clips of women providing exactly that kind of commentary,
when searching for jerk-off encouragement videos. I had no difficulty at
all in channelling my contempt for him and all the other callers. I
quickly enough taunted him to what seemed to be a perversely enjoyable
climax.
Customer number eight, to my considerable surprise, was a woman. I
wondered initially if she might be after a t-girl, as a couple of the
earlier callers had been. But no, she turned out be a bi-curious chick
called Alison who was interested in a bit of lesbian action -or at least
talk. I was briefly disconcerted, until it occurred to me that all I had
to do was imagine myself in bed with Madison.
So successful was this strategy that halfway through the call I realised
my hand was inside my panties rubbing the tip of my cock, which in its
present state was effectively functioning as a clitoris. Oh well, needs
must ...
As my orgasm approached, I kept thinking I should hold off. But with the
noises Alison was making as she mashed her own pussy, I was simply too
aroused. In the end, I managed to come just before she did so. I'm not
sure if she realised that I'd actually had a climax of my own, or just
thought I was a fantastic actress. But she was very keen to keep going
and have another one.
I was briefly tempted, but then remembered I was being scored on
completed callers, not orgasms induced. So with regret, I told Alison
that it wasn't allowed. I was still trying to get my breath back when the
next customer who greeted me. Doing my best to ignore the damp patch I
was now sitting on, courtesy of the semen that had dribbled out of the
tube in my cock, I began the process of investigation anew ...
I didn't do too badly over the rest of my shift, though some of my sex
talk got a little repetitive - and unfortunately I still had a couple of
callers hang up on me, after I either misinterpreted what they wanted or
got annoyed at my questioning. By the time I finished, I reckoned I had a
positive score ... but not by much.
At dinner that night, there were a lot of gloomy faces. The test had
evidently been challenging for just about everyone, although Madison
seemed to be the happiest of the group that I was now regularly sitting
with. Nobody seemed willing to share their experiences much, but it did
become clear that everyone had had to deal with some men who wanted a
girl, and others who preferred trannies. I seemed to have got the only
female caller.
Looking around, I was unsurprised to see that Natasha was another to have
done well. Although she was doing her best not to seem too cock-a-hoop, I
knew her well enough now to tell when she was pleased with herself. And
so she should be, the little bitch. If we were going on femininity alone,
Kaylee would win hands down. But Natasha was a lot more calculating, not
to say smart. Like me, she would stop at nothing to win. The difference
was, she was doing a much better job not just of presenting as a woman,
but being sexy with it.
When the final scores came up for Round 3, there was no surprise to see
her holding the lead. Kaylee had slipped down to fifth, so clearly sex
talk wasn't her strength. Madison had jumped up to third.
But I didn't see any of this immediately, because I was staring at my
ranking. Fucking hell, I was seventh. I had clearly done appallingly on
the sex chat test.
But wait, what did that mean? I realised, belatedly, that I didn't know
how many of us were about to be cut. There were twelve in the group, so
would they now halve our number, as they had done in the last round? Was
I out? A great pit opened in my stomach.
I was still looking aghast at the big screen when the boss bitch's
sneering voice reverberated around the dining room. "So, we've reached
that time again. Time to say good riddance to another bunch of losers. So
would the following please stand up and walk to the door. Or, if you
like, stay where you are, get beaten to a pulp by our lovely guards and
then get dragged out. It's your choice, ladies. I am of course talking
about Amber, Candy, Krystal and Nikki."
I was already beginning to rise to my feet, when I belatedly realised
that my name was not on the list. Twelve had become eight, not six. I
slumped back into my seat and looked around at Kaylee and Madison. But
their eyes were elsewhere. They were looking up at Amber. The tall
blonde, her face ashen, glanced at the three of us in turn. "Bye girls,"
she whispered. And then, as if in a dream, she started walking slowly to
the doors. To her credit, she did so in silence. Not so the other three.
They were each weeping and crying out as they were led away, though none
put up a struggle.
As their wailing receded, I realised I was quietly sobbing myself. The
tears were not for those who had gone - except maybe a few for poor
Amber. They were borne of both relief at my reprieve, but also fear. The
fear that came from the knowledge that next time, it would surely be me
taking that walk ...
To be continued
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