Emma Watson - The Gameshow Contestant (RoleplayMaster x ChrisGabriel)

"My turn?" Joan raised an eyebrow. "There's no 'my turn." She said, standing up. She stood about the same height as her, yet her size was incomparable to Emma. "Kneel now, or regret it." Joan threatened, edging closer. There were slight signs she was scared, from the hairs raised on her arms to the darting eyes, and the slightly trembling knees. "Remember, I can make your life heaven or hell."
 
"Then why don't you make it feel like Heaven, instead of making me feel like Hell already?!" Emma hissed back loudly, ready to fight or flee, but not ready to fuck Joan ever again. Of course it was not like she had any choice in it up till then either...

"I would never submit to any man, what makes you think I would do it for anyone? You are a bully, nothing more!"
Emma was feeling a cold sweep through her body, making her resolve strenghten, but it also left her feel her poor abused pussy and ass, the warmth from the not long ago slaps on her asscheeks, which were red for anyone to see.
 
"I thought training had been going well." Joan mused out loud. "No matter..." She said, and surprisingly, sat down. Taking a bite of her lunch, Joan said to the group at the table. "It's impressive, really. Emma must have learned to sleep with one eye open. Because that's the only way she's going to survive here." She spoke as if Emma was not right beside her.

Each girl had a plate in front of them with sandwiches on them, and juice beside it. Well, except for Emma. She had that, until Joan casually poured the juice all over the sandwiches on her plate, turning them soggy.
 
Emma just took Joans plate instead, and if she started anything against it, she would be covered in Emma's soggy lunch.

"And I hope you would win this thing, for you would be spending years in a female prison again anyway if you tried anything!"
 
Taking Emily's lunch silently, Joan simply shrugged, eating Emma's friend's lunch before leaving, the doors unlocking.

It was three days later that Joan eventually did something. The previous days, Emma had been alert, but the lack of sleep caught up with her. When she awoke that morning, she would find herself tied to the living room table, spreadeagle and naked. Joan rested on the couch, smelly bare feet resting under Emma's chin. Two pegs were attached to Emma's nipples, and a few more along the lips of her pussy.
 
"Now what?!" Emma blinked as she wake up, surprised at her situation. They... or Her must have drugged her, as she did not think that anyone would sleep through being removed from her bed and put on a hard table, then tied spread angled, and pegged in the most sensitive areas. Of course she pulled on the ropes, or whatever clothes Joan used to tie her up, gauging their strenght and hoping they would give...
 
The limbs of the celebrity had been tied up with actual rope. How or where she got it, it was unclear. "Enjoying your morning?" Joan asked. Grabbing something from the floor just below Emma's head, she would soon notice a strap-on. Yet it was not going on Joan. No, instead, the shaft slid into Emma's mouth, the bands going around her head and keeping it in there. She was forced to keep it in her throat while Joan sexually tortured Emma's body, pinching and pulling, biting and slapping bits here and there.
 
Emma would try to cry, moan, or at least give some sound, but she could not even grunt with the dildo gag in her mouth and partway down her throat. Still, she fought for her breaths, struggled against the hurting fingers - then for them as her body became more accustomed and needy for the attention...
 
Joan's work was slow, waiting for the behaviour to tick from fear to lust. At that point, he turned her painful touches into pleasurable ones, and then back to painful when she grew accustomed to the pleasure. These careful ministrations were done precisely, ensuring that an hour later, her body would not be able to understand the difference between pain and pleasure. And she would know only pain and pleasure when she saw Joan, knowing that she could provide either if she was lucky... or unlucky. When she felt she was sufficiently trained, Joan removed the strap on straps from Emma's head, forcing it down deeper, before throwing it aside. Gripping Emma's hair, Joan pulled her head to her pussy, waiting for the reaction.
 
She was already past caring, her body thrumming with the sensations, getting her face pulled-pushed into a pussy - one that she was already intimate with - Emma could not and would not keep herself from starting to lick it and suck if it was pushed more close.

After she started lapping, her body tried to move too, missing the ministrations, craving any kind of touch. Still, Emma's mind tried to push the whole experience behind the erotic haze, like a lusty dream, like all the other previous unusual happenings. But she was feeling like newer before, and was again changed by the experience. Hating Joan but loving what she could do with her body, the Modell and Actress was trying not to think about more than the present. And it was spent munching carpet and tonguing twat.
 
Enjoying the sensations Emma brought, Joan continued to pinch and pull her nipples, the pegs turning them red and swollen. "So, have you learned your lesson? I can make you crave pain as much as pleasure. I can make you hate pleasure as much as pain." She warned, grinding her bush along Emma's face, pulling back long enough for her to answer, before returning to sitting on her face.
 
"You can't make me hate pleasure!" Emma gasped, body shivering as she realized that indeed, she was more than okay with the pain mixed with the pleasure, so, basically she already craved it... Or at least it sounded like truth in her mind.

Not that she was okay with it, but at the moment Joan was at least clean, and her place on the table obviously forced and a clear indication of rape... It surprised Emma that how her pussy clenched at the idea of others seeing her like this, or more like in the heights of arousal and pelasure. She did not cared that it was clearly a lesbian act, just like she tried not to dwell on what happened with the horse, or the small dicked boy...

What made her wriggle and squirm was the possibility for more, and the possible watchers of her otherwise seemingly lonely debasement and pleasure. She went back to licking and sucking, hoping that she would be given release... she wanted to cum hard.
 
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