Author's note: Sorry for the delay, and the relatively short length of this chapter. I decided to go ahead and put it out to whet your appetite. I promise I am continuing to work on this story and will eventually bring it to the conclusion I have planned. Thank you for your patience and for reading. As always I appreciate your comments and feedback. Yes, this story is vile and is pure fantasy. Please do not bother reading if you are looking for some cosmic justice.
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Winter came early to the bay that year. It was late November as Melody stood naked and barefoot in front of one of the windows in her suite, watching as a rare snow flurry fell outside. None of it was sticking to the ground, but it was still nice to watch.
She was aware of the cameras on her. She was always aware of them, aware that she never had a moment of privacy. She could feel the eyes of the thousands of viewers who would be watching her doing even this mundane task. There were over 15,000 accounts registered on the site, but an account wasn't even required for viewing the livestream. Bruce had told her that. The live viewership never dropped below 3,000 or so, and could spike as high as 100,000 during her gangbangs or other humiliations. She could feel the cold through the window. She idly touched the barbells piercing her hardened nipples -- new ones that a fan had brought her and Bruce made her wear, that had the little words "cum" and "slut" hanging from the bars on tiny chains on either side of her nipples. Her clit piercing was two little pearls on each end of the piece going vertically through her hood. Aside from the dark red polish on her finger and toenails, she wore nothing else, as was always the case. She hadn't felt clothes on her skin in months, aside from the few times they had had her wear high heels, which strangely only made her feel more naked. Her hair, now dyed a deep red color, like it had been during her first ever gangbang that had started this whole life, hung in voluminous waves around her shoulders and down her back.
She turned away from the window, her eyes flitting over the two different LED counters mounted in every room of her suite: one that showed her the current viewer count (4,112), and one that showed her her lifetime sexual partners count (3,185).
Bruce was giving her a relatively easy day today. They had just gotten back from a short roadtrip. Three days ago he had suddenly appeared in her quarters and told her to come outside, that they were leaving for a little while. She walked out with him then, naked, in her bare feet, bringing nothing with her. She owned and needed little. Outside there had been a luxury motorhome she had never seen. Bruce simply told her they were going on a little trip. One of his assistants was going with them. He had hired part-time helpers to manage her "career" with him. The logistics were getting complicated.
They'd driven toward LA and parked the motorhome in a large parking lot in Santa Clarita. They had drinks while they waited for their guests to arrive. He didn't have to tell her people would be coming; she knew. She didn't know the exact context or details, but she knew they were here for men to fuck her. She could only guess what the purpose of the RV and the travel was.
They'd begun arriving about an hour later. She didn't know how many there would be. Four came at first, average-looking guys probably in their late 30s who accepted drinks from Bruce and looked at her like she was a sexdoll, speaking to Bruce but not saying a word to her. Bruce had simply pointed at their crotches, indicating that she should orally pleasure them while they spoke. She did so as the men made small talk. She took no umbrage from the dehumanizing way they ignored her, just used her mouth like she was an object. She expected nothing else now.
Three more men had showed up while the first four were fucking her. Then five more after them. Eventually there were maybe 20 men in the RV, either fucking her or waiting their turn or cleaning up after they'd finished. The crowd stayed about this size for the next ten hours, but constantly being replaced by new men after those who'd been there a while cycled out. Chris, Bruce's assistance, was busy on the phone, apparently texting the exact location to new men when their turn came up. They kept the thing running like a professional operation. Melody was used to marathon sex with many men. She didn't even ask how long this would last, because she knew it didn't matter and they would probably not tell her anyway. It was just her job to be a whore for these strangers, and she was good at it.
She took three men at all times. Men swapped from hole to hole with callous indifference for her health or comfort. It was common for a dick to come out from deep in her asshole and go straight to her mouth, or her pussy. She was used to that too. She allowed herself to be contorted into every position imaginable, presenting her body parts in the pornish ways she'd learned, to make the best possible pictures for all the men documenting everything with their phones. Men slapped her face as hard as they could, or put their fists in her holes, or sucked on her toes, or ejaculated on her face. She accommodated everything, thanking the men for everything they did to her, fucking them back, getting more and more into her role as the worthless slut as it went on. It was not a role she felt like she was playing anymore. It was what she was. How absurd it would be to argue otherwise. She emptied cum from the condoms of the few men who wore them, sometimes swallowing them whole, knowing thousands of people would be watching her shit them out intact later. Most men didn't wear them. They seemed to like the depravity of it. Men would fuck her doggystyle while 20 different cumshots covered her asscheeks, smacking their crotches into the sticky mess as they pounded into her sloppy cunt, whipping the mix of jizz into a foul batter.
234 new men had fucked her before it was over that first day. By the end of it she was exhausted, panting, covered in sweat and cum and her own squirt. But she was satisfied, riding the high of humiliation and submission she was able to work herself into. It was easier when she gave into pure abandon and pleasure. Bruce had been right about that. Knowing that she could not go any lower, with nothing more to be risked or lost, she could allow herself to get off to her utter debasement and social humiliation. When she was being filmed doing the most profane things, she would look right into the camera, knowing plenty of people from back home were watching her at this very moment, and instead of recoiling from the idea in horror like she used to, she just let the humiliation wash over her, feed her lust. It was far too late to do anything else.
This was the headspace she lived in more often than not now. But still, it was impossible to always suppress that girl who she used to be, who she really still was deep inside. The girl who took pride in her appearance with an understated dignity, dressing well but proper all the time, spending hours doing her hair and makeup and nails, wearing vintage clothing, wanting to present as a classy beauty. The girl who got a dream job straight out of college, after working so hard for those scholarships. The girl who just wanted to marry a steady guy, start a family. That girl would usually pop back up at night, as she lay there trying to fall asleep, silently screaming out that her life had been ruined, stolen, until she had to take sleeping pills just to turn off her mind and shut the voice out. But worse, she would sometimes rise to the surface while Melody was in the middle of being used like a worthless whore, again becoming her internal voice while her face was in the middle of being smooshed into some stranger's warm, droopy balls. Those were the hardest times to get through.
But that first day in the RV that girl had stayed pushed deep down. She had been a perfect whore for them, wanted nothing more than to be their whore. The girl she used to be was being pushed further and further down into oblivion with each passing day.
When the last man had dropped his load in her, claiming his coveted "crown" on the forums that indicated he was one of the men who had fucked their slutqueen and directly added to her growing debasement, Bruce encouraged everyone still hanging around to summon up a second load and drop it directly on Melody's face. It was 21 men, including Bruce and Chris. They each jerked themselves off while Melody, already filthy and covered in a sheen and patches of crusted cum of variously dried amounts collected over the last ten hours, spread her legs on the floor and fisted herself while she awaited their loads, looking up eagerly at the men standing above her tugging themselves. They came up, one or two at a time, and left as much cum as they could muster on her upturned face. By the time they were done her facial features were half obscured by the thick mess, clumpy in some places and smeared transparent in others, but totally covering her face. Several ropes had been shot into her hair, and more dripped down onto her tits, though she did her best to keep it on her face.
When they had finished painting her, Bruce came forward with the camera. He was holding a large cue card, which he told her to read aloud.
"A little promo," he said.
