Challenge 05 Monica Meets Julius

It had been a slightly uncomfortable trip back. Not out of guilt or any embarrassment at what had happened down on the island. Rather because of Harley's enthusiasm in slapping her butt and playing with her breasts. It took a little time to sit comfortably and her tender nipples kept sending messages from their contact with her top. Not that she regretted a thing. Every little sensation just reminded her of how good it had been.

There was, of course, a problem with that. Every memory contrasted with her life back home. She continued her researches and her normal life at the college but it all seemed so bland, so uninspiring. The answer should have been simple of course. She was now a fully enrolled participant in the Challenge. The roll of the die and the turn of the card set her a new task every week. The first four had been performed on camera at home for her members and her subscribers.

1) Shave your pussy - and keep it shaved.

2) Do your cleaning and cooking in a sheer top, short skirt, high-highs and no panties.

3) Twerk in a tight dress while going commando.

4) Dance and strip on camera.

The problem with all of that could still startle her at times. It was all rather ... tame. Not that her audience didn't enjoy it. Especially the twerking - her Members could not get enough of seeing her twerking. But she had already done all of this without the Challenge when she had just been devising her own shows. None of her tasks had given her the thrill of that first show back from the island.

Harley had gifted her an outfit - well hardly an outfit. It was more lingerie bearing a certain logo. A logo that sent a very clear message - especially if, like her Members, you knew that she had just been to the island with Harley. It would tell them all they needed to know which she found very exciting. Almost as exciting as the fact that she knew that she had earned that lingerie on her trip and had earned the right to wear it.

It had been so exciting to sit there and turn on the camera. Then to watch the messages rush up her screen, the congratulations and the pleasure of her Members at seeing what she was wearing. Many a way of saying basically the same things. Firstly,

'ABout fucing time - our Monica done got herself Blacked!'

Followed rapidly by,

'C'mon now Harley when we gonna get a piece of that sweet booty?'

Finally Harley had responded,

'Now this one is just a little bit special. I was thinking I might just keep her for myself. I'm thinking my Monica is a little too fine to be wasted on a raggedy-assed bunch like you all!"

Heather Cameron sat and watched the responses scroll up the screen. Her camgirl persona as Monica had introduced her to many aspects of the world that Heather had not been aware of. Now her Members introduced her to many colorful expressions and a seemingly limitless array of variations in obscenely abusing Harley. Monica could only sit on camera and giggle because she knew Harley was laughing too, wherever he was watching.

It was all a game and every one of them knew it - Monica, Harley and all of her Members. Monica was on screen publicly wearing that lingerie emblazoned 'Blacked'. Her Members all knew what that meant. They also knew that Harley was a generous and a good friend to them all - he was sure to share. In his own good time.

That, of course, was the problem. How did you get excited by doing a naked twerk on camera when you had been down on the Island. They hadn't been playing down there. That had been real and it had changed her. She was ever more Monica rather than being Heather. The old Heather Cameron was devolving into a 'part' that had to be played during intervals when she couldn't be her real self, when she couldn't be Monica.

It was not so long ago that she had never heard of Harley or his TKB Network of camgirls. Not so long ago but that relatively short period of time had changed her. Who could ever have imagined that Heather/Monica would ever have thought that Harley was holding her back! She asked him about it and got a very reasonable reply.

'Baby- you need to have faith in old Harley. Have I ever set you wrong? Every task performed gets you a cash bonus. Check that account you set up and you'll see I ain't lying. Now I know you ain't hurting for money but that ain't so true for some of my girls. This is a way of getting them some easy bonuses. I treat you any different and the Members gonna see it. Don't be fooled into thinking they don't notice these things. They ain't thinking with their dicks all the time!'

A quick check on her phone had revealed the truth of his statement. There were bonus fees paid into the account as well as her regular share of the show incomes. 'I don't need the money,' she had messaged Harley.

His response had set her thinking.

'I know you don't - that's why I especially enjoy paying you that green and you accepting it. I like the fact you getting paid to dance and show off that fine white booty of yours. No rules on what you spend it on. Ain't there no food pantry or something up your way needing your help?'

She took his hint despite the fact that 'her way', the area around her exclusive blue-blood college, wasn't exactly known for its deprivation. She soon found a worthy recipient in one of the old Cameron factory towns. That seemed appropriate and they didn't need to know how she was 'earning' the money she sent them. The groceries they bought would be just as welcome.

Meanwhile, she was 'earning' that money and she thought she had come to know Harley well enough to understand him. For a lot of the girls on TKB this was their living. They performed to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads. Harley knew that was not the case for her. Some of her Members' comments suggested they had figured that much out too - even if they didn't know quite how little she needed anyone's money. They did at least understand that she wasn't in this for the green - she was in it for something else. For the excitement, the thrill, the risk, the adventure - call it what you would. This wasn't a job for her it was a vocation. The vocation of being their entertainment, probably soon of being something more.

So why did Harley pay her? She was pretty sure she understood that too. He paid his girls and he wanted her to be one of his girls so he paid her. More than that - he wanted her to know that was why he was doing it. He wasn't claiming ownership of her - he was allowing her to give herself up to him. Just as she had on the Island. She understood and it could still surprise her just how much that understanding brought her pleasure.

****

'H - Turn the card Monica.'

She looked at the playing cards laid down in front of her. The shuffle of the pack and roll of the dice had isolated three cards and now she had to choose one. She did so. The Seven of Spades.

'H - Open the envelope.'

She did so and then read out loud the card enclosed within the envelope marked with the Seven of Spades. "Viewers' choice of outfit."

'H - OK! So the Members have till Midnight to suggest and nominate an outfit for Monica there to wear next time. The ballot of the three most popular suggestions will go to the Subscribers and they will have two days to donate and vote. The suggestion with most donations wins and I'll have it with Monica ready for next week's show.'

That was how things had gone at the end of the previous week's show. A nice illustration of the way her boss Harley worked. Membership at TKB was as exclusive as any of the country clubs her grandfather had frequented. It was just that the criteria were somewhat different. First, all the members were African-American. Second, all the members were recommended by an existing Member and had to be personally approved by Harley. There was no admission fee and no membership fee. Members followed the rules or stopped being Members. Which meant, if they had any sort of brains, that they made sure to follow the rules. The privileges of membership were too good to risk losing them.

The subscribers, or 'subs' for short, were very different. They were overwhelmingly white and they definitely did pay for the privilege. They paid a subscription and then were expected to tip performers where appropriate. Access to the more popular performers' shows required a past track-record of generous contributions. Monica saw her viewer numbers and knew that her Challenge shows were always over-subscribed. The regular sound of coins over her speakers during her shows signalled when the subs were enjoying her show and also signalled just how much they wanted to be there next week. After a while that sound could inspire an instant reaction. It made her heart beat a little faster and her blood pump a little bit stronger - all fuelled by the knowledge that she was dong a good job.

True to his word Harley had got the selected outfit to her in time. She knew the rules and left the package sealed until she was on camera. George, the African-American college porter, had just smiled when she had asked him for some clues. He wasn't saying anything but she was well aware that he knew. Harley had made him a provisional TKB Member and even provisional Membership had its privileges.

This week she had done a 'Q & A' (dominated by as much as she would tell them about the Island), performed a strip dance and demonstrated a little of her deep throat technique on the big black sex-toy modelled on the infamously large cock of the pornstar Julius Flint. As ever her Members wanted to see her put that toy to another use but she was not ready for that. It was seriously huge, a good twelve inches and thick with it. Instead she used her smaller black vibrator and that helped the show go real well.

Half way through her show it was time to perform the Challenge. On camera she unsealed the package and opened the box that contained the outfit selected for her. She knew that the lens caught her expression of slight confusion as she looked inside. There didn't seem to be an outfit there - just a few narrow strips of leather connected by wide chrome rings. Except that there was one strip of material about an inch wide. Once she had removed it all from the box she found an image at the bottom of it and then she understood.

"Oh wow," she said and began to figure out how to put the outfit on. There was, of course, no question that she would put it on. Pre-show Harley had told her that the little poll-come-auction had gone very well. The Members had made their selection and the Subs had paid out a lot of good money to see her wear it.

It was pretty clear where the strip of material went. It covered her pussy and her asshole. Well, theoretically it did. There wasn't much material there. Everything else was pretty much on display and once the outfit was on and in place it was notable that the leather straps framed and held in place both her uncovered breasts and her butt cheeks. Certainly her rear view in the harness was real popular and she had to keep standing up, turning round and bending over at her Members' requests.

That gave her an idea and she struck a few ballet-style poses for the camera, using the back of her chair for support. The Members really liked that - especially since apparently that strip of material kept shifting and giving them a sweet view of her pussy. The outfit was either very badly or very carefully designed. Given what she knew about Harley she had her suspicions which was the case.

'H - Take that other envelope out of the bag.'

It was under the photograph and she hadn't noticed it before. Now she removed and opened it. Inside was a cord of about twelve inches with clips on each end. Again a moment's hesitation before she remembered the photograph. So that was where the clips went.

She gave the camera her sweetest smile and then spoke into the mike. "You guys don't want me to wear this do you?"

She smiled as she watched the screen go mad with about 150 messages over the next few seconds repeating the same message in an almost infinite variety of ways.

'Fuck yeah we do!'

She hadn't seen anything quite like this before but she had already known that she would do it. It had been included in the delivery because her Members wanted to see her try them out and she had come to treasure just how good pleasing her Members made her feel. Still, those clips had springs on them and those springs seemed to be quite strong.

Monica decided it wouldn't get any easier if she procrastinated. She took one of the clips and held it up, using her fingers to ease the jaws of the clips apart. They sprang back into place. The springs did indeed exert some serious pressure. She let out a little exhale of breath and raised her eyebrows to the camera. "Here goes I guess." She took up the clip and pushed its jaws apart just a little wider than was required. Then she moved it up and onto her right nipple. A split-second of hesitation and then she let the clip's jaws ease back into place.

"Oh fuck!" The clip's jaws closed and she felt a sharp jolt of pain from her nipple. It was momentary and then replaced by a warm feeling of ultra-sensitivity. No - that wasn't quite true. The pain was still there but now it was in the background and its nature had totally changed. Could you have good pain? She knew that you could. The same as aching muscles after a hard dance class could feel so good. Well this suddenly felt really good. She glanced down and knew what she would see. The stimulation of the clip was making her nipple stand out hard and proud.

She knew what she had to do. She took the second clip and placed it onto her left nipple. The same momentary stab of pain and then that warmth, that delicious sensitivity.

'NJBBC - Fuck yeah - got them soldiers up and at attention!'

'12In4Mon - Got something else standing proud right here for her.'

'GmmethmWhtTitties - She got fucking fine nips. Shame them titties ain't a size or two bigger.'

'CheeksMan - You crazy man. Ain't nature for a woman to have a booty as fine as that and A1 titties too.'

'HeightsPussyPimp - Just know that white piece is really needing Big Black Dick.'

'HTownRider - Fuck yeah. Work that pussy hard and slap that booty till its glowing nice and red.'

'DREinH - Cracka bitch been spoiled in the Islands. Bring her little titties and big ol ass over here. We give her what she needin.'

'H - Been there. Done that!'

Fifteen versions of 'Shut the fuck up Harley - you lucky bastard'.

'H - LOL. Patience, patience.'

'IzeyeInk - Monica, you need to try pulling on that cord a little. See how it feels.'

'GmmethmWhtTitties - Oh shit she doing it. Getting off on it too. Fucking amazing nips - need to get to sucking on them.'

'H - It's even better than you imagine.'

'DREinH - We all know what she needs and that fine piece of white ass knows it too. Nothing but Big Black Cock gonna do for her.'

'IzeyeInk - Seeing our girl like that surely gives me some ideas!'

'HTownRider - Oh fuck it Harley. You got to get the training wheels off this one. She made to ride Black cock, born to be a slut for the Black man. Tell him what you need girl.'

Even the slightest pressure on the cord sent another wave of stimulation flowing through her erect nipples, made the feel of the clips shift and change a little. It had felt so good her free hand had found its way down and pushed aside that cursory strip of cloth. She had sat there working the clips, her fingers exploring her pussy as they had all watched. She had read the messages moving up her screen. Their comments, their desires, their demands. She had read them and her fingers had moved faster and faster. Finally, she had read that comment of 'HTownRider'.

The words on the screen, the exquisite sensations from her nipples, the memories of her time on the Island, her own skilled fingers - all combined and magnified each other in bringing her to a shuddering release. Left her gasping for breath and knowing that she was laughing like a fool into the camera. Finally she felt her breathing steady and let her eyes focus back on her screen.

Harley had pinned a comment for her. It was from 'HTownRider'

'You gonna answer my question girl?'

She looked into the camera. "I don't need to. You all know the answer."

'H - Alright! One things for sure - we gotta move this one up a level. Next time we cut the cards Monica will draw for her first official Challenge on the 'Public' level. Anyone ready to help out can get in touch, If you qualified then you know how.'

Which ended the show and Monica watched as the Members logged off. Responding to their appreciation of the show. Finally only Harley and one other Member were left. Monica recognized the username as one that she had often seen before

'IzeyeInk - Damn Harley! You been holding out on me man. This one got the look and the attitude I been looking for. When you gonna send her round my way?'

'H - Have been thinking about it. Your style ain't for all my girls but maybe in this case...'

'IzeyeInk - Maybe ain't in it. What you and me feel ain't in it. This one needs to pay me a visit - learn what she's really all about. Got the vibe she's a natural - just that she don't know it yet.'

Monica felt the need to step into their little discussion. "I am still here guys! What do you mean 'IzeyeInk'?"

'H - That's something maybe you'll be finding out. All on the roll of the dice and the turn of the cards. My man Izeye hosts some of the tasks in the Challenge.'

'IzeyeInk - Tell you one thing girl if the cards send you my way once you'll be returning on your own accord again and again. I got what someone like you is needing.'

Monica giggled and smiled into the camera. "Is that an offer Izeye?"

'IzeyeInk - Nah girl, that's a promise, a solid gold promise'.

****

The three of clubs. 'Go out dancing and get the numbers of at least five strangers.'

The music was loud - its volume and its insistent rhythmn seemingly magnified yet further by the relative darkness of the cavernous room. That darkness was only mitigated by the flashing of many variously colored lights. Heather Cameron allowed the music to flow through her, to capture her senses and to guide her movements. She loved these moments. At times you seemed alone, a thousand miles from any other person and enraptured by the notes as they flowed through you, by your body's response to each musical pattern.

Except that you were not alone. Instead, you were one of hundreds of young people dancing in this huge space. Many came because they loved to dance, to express themselves, many came to enjoy an evening with their partner or their friends and many came to find a lover. Perhaps for life and perhaps, more likely, just for tonight.

Those young men were here tonight. Like hungry wolves skirting around a herd of prey, seeking the most promising target. Heather knew that a lot of their eyes were upon her. Just at the moment there was a young man to her right who was trying to attract her attention. Constantly trying to get into her eye-line. He was reasonably good-looking but he also seemed inexperienced. She really wasn't interested.

In that moment's appraisal another man moved directly in front of her, his movements mirroring her own. Except that they weren't mirroring her own, they were perfectly complementing them. Now this man could dance and even in this light she could see that he was an attractive man. Just over six feet tall with a body that was fit without being over-muscular. Sandy blond hair, sparkling blue eyes and a winning smile. He was a very good looking man, perhaps a year or two older than herself. Which was all very well but Heather instantly, instinctively, knew that this young man was well aware of just how good looking he was. He had that confidence, that swagger, of a man who was proficient in this particular arena.