Page 37 of Frat Row
“I’m going to start it off slow, and then it will gradually get faster. Remember to give us a show like you’re riding your master’s cock,” Will yells over the noise.
I look over at the women watching me quietly with pity and worry written all over their faces, knowing they are next.
Sweat trickles from my brow, and adrenaline courses through my veins, unsure of what to expect. I’ve been to plenty of bars and watched while my friends got thrown from a mechanical bull rather quickly, and we laughed hysterically about it.
It takes technique to ride one of these things, and I don’t think I have it, even with the coordination. But now, being forced into this, I’m going to have to figure it out fast because the last thing I want to be is subjected to the red room or anywhere near Rio and his gang of monsters.
The bull begins to move, and to my revulsion, a loud moan escapes from my mouth.
The dildo is curving in a way that is hitting my G-spot with every movement of the bull, as the head of it goes down, almost touching the ground, and jerks up and back.
The movement of the bull mixed with the vibrating dildo is hitting me in delicious but different ways.
I feel my little bundle of nerves being coaxed with the movement.
My body instinctively begins chasing that high of a mind-altering orgasm. I relinquish control of my mind and let myself escape this heinous place for the time being.
I close my eyes and imagine riding Tyler, letting go of one of the handles and riding this bull like I would a real dick, moving my body in sync with this machine.
My moans grow increasingly louder with every thrust of the dildo, lifting me up and down while completely blocking out my senses and the people surrounding me in this room.
I don’t know how much time has passed, but suddenly, I feel the white-hot waves of release and small cramps in my lower abdomen, and then the sensation like I have to pee.
I let it all go, uncaring. As I let my head fall back and my eyes roll back into my head, I let out a guttural moan as a warm liquid seeps out between my legs.
After what feels like seconds, I come down from my high, slightly shaking and trying to ride out the entire sensation, and I’m pulled back to reality as I realize Will has turned off the bull.
My eyes adjust to the room, and my face turns beet red in embarrassment. I just had one of the best orgasms of my life and squirted all over the place in a room full of people watching me.
I hear Will’s boots on the floor and look over at him, waiting for his approval.
He begins clapping. “I’m so glad I videotaped that so I can show the guys and sell it online. Your master is one lucky bastard,” he taunts as he licks his lips.
Pure loathing envelopes my face, and I look him dead in the eye as I snarl, “You disgust me.”
“Says the girl that enjoyed herself so much she squirted all over my bull,” he snaps back to me.
I let out a huff and raise my body up, eager to get off this thing. Once I am up high enough, I swing one of my legs over and hop off the bull. When my feet hit the ground, I stagger a little bit, feeling lightheaded from the orgasm.
Will cleans up the bull, removes the dildo, and shouts, “Next!”
The women look around with puzzled expressions and hesitations.
Wasting no time, Will just randomly picks one, clutches onto her hair with one hand, and practically throws her to the bull while he goes back to his toolset.
This time, he picks out this gigantic-looking octopus tentacle, and again, my jaw drops to the floor.
I’ve never seen a dildo that looked like that before.
Recoiling into my own skin, all I can think about is how painful it is going to be for this woman in front of me.
I see the fear etched all over her face, but like the rest of us, we have no choice in the matter.
Repeating the same scenario I was just put through, Will sets it up, and she jumps on, adjusting herself to the torture she is about to endure.
This continues with the remaining women, each one forced to have a turn.
One of them doesn’t perform the way Will wants, so he hits a button, and one of the guards practically runs into the room.
She is dragged from the room while she screams, violently trying to get out of his hold as she is carted off to the red room.
Resisting the way she did, I know they are only going to make her punishment that much worse, and I shiver at that thought.
We are given one bottle of water after we finish the bull riding.
I savor it, taking small sips at a time and trying to steal glances around the room to avoid watching these women orgasm.
I don’t even remember the last time I ate.
They wouldn’t let us eat anything before the auction; they wanted us to look as thin as possible to show off any curves we may have.
It’s impossible to continue like this. I know we haven’t been fed in about 72 hours, except for the little bit of water we’ve been given and whatever I was able to drink in the shower.
I can’t remember anything about high school science, but I think we can go longer without food and just water. They obviously know that and are pushing us to our limits, probably just trying to get us to a point of desperation.
Well, any longer, and I am definitely going to be there. I would give anything for something to eat. As if on command, my stomach lets out a huge growl, daydreaming about food.
Hours seem to creep by until we have all taken our turn riding the bull.
Will shouts, “The guards will now escort you to the showers and then to bed.”
Four guards, whom I recognize right away by their familiar faces these last few days and the unsettling feeling that creeps into my belly, confidently walk in.
We are led to the bathrooms and told, “You have 15 minutes to shower and do your business, no more.”
As I am showering, the door to the room opens, and in staggers the woman we saw who had been taken to the red room.
Since we are all naked, my eyes immediately take in her bruising from head to toe, along with her welts. The only part of her body that isn’t bruised is her face, and my body shivers because I catch a glimpse of the blood trickling down her thighs.
She finds an empty showerhead and quickly washes her body, crying out in pain.
I turn my head and focus on the wall, quickly showering and using the restroom.
As if we are robots, programmed or conditioned already from the abuse, we all go to where we were supposed to silently and with our heads down, and line up to be taken to our cots.
When we get to our cots, there are clean hospital gowns that have been placed on top, along with a piece of bread and cheese and another bottle of water.
My stomach lurches with hunger. I don’t even bother with the gown as I scarf down the food, trying to savor the taste but not caring.
I take a few sips of the water and then put on my gown, climbing under the sheet, if you could call it that.
It feels like sandpaper against my skin.
Darkness takes over me, and I fall asleep quickly.