Unanchored
“You come on my show and denigrate me, who the fuck do you think you are?,” said the conventionally-attractive thirtysomething blond woman who had been a pundit on this network for five years, opposite several male cohost twice her age.
“I’m not denigrating you the executives who hired you did that plenty without my help. I’m just pointing out the obvious,” said the guest, a scrawny guy in his twenties with a suit so ill-fitting and rumpled it was clearly deliberate.
“I worked fucking hard to get my degree, and worked my way up past double standards and old boy’s networks, and I will not be told I am not a ‘serious thinker’!“
“No, no, I didn’t say that. I don’t even believe that, you legitimately have decent ideas, better than most of the old farts who cohost with you. What I said is that the audience doesn’t give a shit.”
She was furious, and getting incandescently furious, so much that she felt like her mind was drifting through glue. But she had some dregs of professionalism left, so what she said was “Explain. One chance.”
“Sure. So, obviously you worked hard to be a serious journalist with insightful thoughts, and yeah, you pretty much succeeded, as well as anyone in this industry does. But that just gave the execs cover to hire you, instead of some bimbo who’s attractive but an idiot.“
He smirked, and glanced at her up and down, lasciviously and not even trying to hide it.
“The old farts get picked based on it seeming credible someone could take their ideas seriously. But the women? You’re right, it is a double standard—the execs just wanted a hot woman, because the women in the audience are hoping to see one humiliated so they can feel better about themselves, and the men just want to see her tits.“
“You pig!“
“Hey, I never claimed to be a nice guy. But I’m not the one who hired based on how hot you are. I’m only as much of a pig as your audience. Now, the execs who were looking at every woman they interviewed and thinking ‘okay, is she accomplished enough that we can pretend we’re not just hiring her for her looks?’, they’re the pigs. The rest of us are just the lowest common denominator.“
“Shut. Up. I am not just a body for your amusement!“
“Oh? I can think of a simple test. Prove I’m wrong.”
The rage made her almost incoherent, but she growled “Name it.”
“Simple. Show us. Sweeps is next week, right? If people are watching for your thoughts, no one will care that you went topless on camera. If they just care that you’re hot, you’ll be at the top of the ratings guaranteed, everyone hoping for a repeat.”
In the back of her mind, something was screaming that this was wrong, this wasn’t a valid argument. But the anger and glue kept it far away, and she could barely hear it.
“Fine,” she practically screamed, hands dropping to her blouse and undoing the buttons so forcefully half of them popped off. “You think they just want my tits? Fucking have them!” She ripped off the pasties which kept the top up just in case the buttons didn’t, tore off her bra, and stared defiantly into the close-up camera, “You pigs want this? Fucking have it!”
The guest smiled, watching as her fit of anger made her tits jiggle. Her eyes looked unfocused, her mouth only slightly bent toward a sneer—she didn’t notice, but she was looking like a complete airhead, despite the obvious anger of her words; her expression showed only vague investment in what she was saying, the energy noticeable but barely recognizable as anger. The camera crew were similarly a little stunned, as was the old fart, but the camera was zooming for her close-up anyway.
“We done here?", she spat at him, and he nodded.
“Yeah, no reason to keep letting the girls hang out, either the audience got what they came for or they didn’t.”
“Good,” she said, slowly gathering her blouse back up, “Now, I want you back in two weeks to deliver an on-air apology, you hear me?”
“Make it a bet. If I’m wrong, yeah, I come back and apologize on-air, that seems fair.”
She was looking at the bra, which was clearly too damaged to be redonned quickly. “But you’re going to ask for something on your side if you somehow are right?”
“Yeah. Dinner, place of your choice, I’ll pay. Doesn’t have to be public, I don’t want to inflict an audience on you. If you like, you can only tell me and we both arrive in unmarked cars.”
She buttoned the last couple buttons, her blouse still bulging with unrestained boob, her nipples hard and pressed though the fabric—though she showed no sign of noticing.
“Sure. Not that you’re going to get it.”
“We’ll see! Now, was there anything else, or should we cut to a break?”
They cut, and the makeup team came over to replace to blouse, put pasties in which concealed the nipples, and did a fair attempt at hiding the lack of bra—this wasn’t in their list of contingencies, but they did a good job trying.
Their guest stood to leave, and almost immediately disappeared into the background of the studio crew, everyone ignoring him like he hadn’t been on camera. Except the hostess, who couldn’t take her eyes off him. He met her gaze some of the time, but mostly scanned her up and down, stripping her further in his mind. But he particularly focused on her legs—her hands were in her lap, impossible to see, but her legs were inching further apart steadily.
“You have any trouble getting here privately?”
“No, unless the limo company talks.”
“If it was one of the ones I suggested, they won’t, they started out working for diplomats so they’re quite strict about it.”
“Good. I admit I lost, but I don’t want any attention brought to it.”
“I try not to be a sore winner, so I’ll respect your wishes on that.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to stay in the industry. It’s not actually worse than it was last month, but...”
“Yes, the fact that you know would be distracting.”
“Mostly, I’m furious about the neglect of my work—I worked hard to establish my merit, dammit! But yes, the knowledge that men are getting off to my image bothers me. And, apparently, not just the show...”
“Ah, you saw some of that? Probably inevitable, I’m afraid, you are good-looking.“
“I became the single most popular target for ‘deepfakes’ literally overnight, apparently. Not enough that men saw my tits, they have been generating fake video and claiming it was real...”
She looked distracted, with a slightly vacant look in her eyes. He smiled.
“I can see how it would be hard to forget that. And worse if you’re in public, I’m sure.”
“I got lascivious looks constantly, I’ve stopped going out at all.”
Again, her hands were in her lap, and he glanced down to see her legs starting to inch wider apart.
“Understandable. Oh, there’s our waitress. Hello, Julie.”
“Hello again. Would you like menus, or the chef’s special for the night?”
“You go here often?”
“Yes, they offer much more straightforward privacy than most restaurants. The special’s always great. Unless you have allergies?”
“Pescatarian.”
“Trout-based tonight, ma’am, if you like sir’s recommendation.”
“Sure.”
“For both of us, then. Thank you, Julie. And no one else will be interrupting tonight, correct?”
“Very good, sir. And yes, the staff got the strict privacy request.”
“Very deferential...”
“Is that not normal at places this fancy? It has been for me.”
“I suppose...”
“So, you’ve been distracted being looked at? I suppose that would include me to some extent, can’t be avoided.”
“...yes, somewhat,” she said, seeming a little more vacant.
“I suppose mentioning that might be rude, should I apologize?”
“No, that’s fine,” she found herself saying. Which it was, she could be polite. Even if he did make her feel naked, that was her problem, she should be polite.
“Ah, that’s good, then. What else? Well, this isn’t a date, but I should have checked if there was anyone who might think it was a date and gotten prickly.“
“Oh, no, I’ve dated casually but no one in a month or so. Quite fine.”
She was looking more vacant, a mask of politeness slipping into emptiness. As he’d planned.
“Ah, my condolences? I’d- no, never mind, rude.”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s fine.”
“Then—for me, that would be a dry spell. Never fun.”
She blushed, and he glanced down to see her legs were braced wide. Her hand was in her lap, too, and her arm seemed a little tense.
“I’m—mostly fine with it. Usually fine with it. Yes,” and her vacant blush was getting worse.
“Well, I would hate to dwell on it, that might make it worse.” It would, he was making sure of it. Taking her emotion and pushing it harder...
“Well, maybe. It’s fine, no cause for me to be rude.”
“If there’s anything you’d like me to do to relieve it somewhat, just ask,” he said with a big smile. She was beet red, and her arm was moving slightly.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I just... find myself waiting, expecting all the men around to start catcalling, demanding I take off my top again,” she said, and a bit of her mind was shouting at her, asking why she would possibly say that.
“Well, I won’t do that if you don’t want me to, of course. I don’t know that I could do anything to make you feel confident I won’t.”
“I... appreciate that. Yes, you particularly couldn’t, I don’t think, you were there the first time.”
“I certainly was. I’m glad we’ve been able to have a polite conversation tonight, you were very angry then.”
“Yes, it was terribly rude of me. And stuck in my mind, that you’ll demand it any moment. Though you didn’t even ask, before, just dared me.”
“That’s true. Is it uncomfortable, feeling that I’ll demand it any moment? Distracting?”
“Yes, very. Not your fault, of course, but just getting worse, I’m afraid.”
“Well, there’s one thing that might relieve it, if it gets bad enough, but it would be rude to mention.”
“I’m sure you can say anything, you’ve been a perfect gentleman.”
“If you’re sure... you’d have nothing to be anxious about, if you just took your top off yourself. Not that I’m asking.”
She blushed deep red again, and one hand drifted to her blouse, worrying at the buttons.
“I suppose that might help...”
“Only if you want it, of course. I promise I won’t think any less of you if you do.” Because she was already half-empty and ready to serve. Much like Julie.
“I couldn’t, not when the waitress will be back any minute.”
“Sensible. In that case, I won’t suggest it any further.” Her hand was rubbing at her lap. He wondered whether she was consciously aware that she was masturbating to the idea.
“Though, I will say the ladies’s discretion here is fantastic. I believe you could have sex on the table and if they’d walk in, they’d just ask if we needed a new tablecloth.”
She absent-mindedly undid a button while she was stunned by the image. At this point, the blush was permanent, as was the empty look and her slowly gyrating arm touching herself.
There was a knock on the door, and Julie entered, with two platters of soup, pasta, and fish. She placed them down, and glanced over to his new toy, just as polite and blank as if she’d seen a small spill rather than a woman masturbating in relative public.
“Does ma’am need assistance with anything? I assure you, my discretion is perfect,” the waitress asked.
She looked down at her hand and seemed speechless.
“She was considering removing her top, but didn’t want to be awkward when you arrived. She thought she’d be extremely embarrassed,” he said, his tone like an instructor.
“Well, ma’am, I can promise I will give you no reason for embarrassment,” she said solicitously, bowing to give her a nice view of her cleavage.
“I- I couldn’t suggest,” she tried.
“There’s no need to,” he assured her, “Julie doesn’t need to be asked.”
Julie nodded, quickly undoing the buttons and clasps and pulling blouse and bra over her head.
“So, that’s done, nothing to worry about now, right?”
“Um... not quite,” she stammered.
“Isn’t this what you were worried I might demand? I didn’t, and now it’s done, and I think just the same of you.”
“I... the worry’s just changed. That you might demand I strip entirely.”
“Well, would you rather that get over with, too?”
“Um...”
“It would relieve the worry, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe...”
“And what you’ve been worrying about is men demanding, right? Which I’m not.”
“Yes...”
“So Julie can help you out again.”
“Okay...”
And the waitress did, pulling skirt and panties off her legs and onto the floor. While she was bent over, and the vagina was sittting moist and uncovered, she stopped to kiss it.
An ‘eep!’ escaped, and she went speechless.
“So, sorry, ma’am, sir. I haven’t had any trout tonight myself, and it looked too delicious not to have a taste.”
“That was impolite of you. She can ask if she wants that service.”
“Of course, sir, I apologize again. Shall I go?”
“I think that depends. Does she want that service?“
The she in question still seemed dumbstruck.
“All her worries have been assuaged, now. Maybe she has some anticipation where those were?”
She stayed silent, but was gazing at Julie’s cleavage, her hand rubbing away again.
“Well, she seems to be unable to speak. But she has been touching herself all night. So be gentle, so she doesn’t get too overwhelmed to tell you no.“
“Of course, sir,” Julie said, and knelt to lick her gently.
The moans started quickly, and he found his erection getting uncomfortably hard. But he tried to focus on the food, which was a lovely trout dish. He didn’t just go to this place for the privacy and easily-suborned waitresses.
A few minutes and a sudden bunch of gasps later, she managed to get some words out. “Still... worried...”
“Oh dear, what about?”
“...you demand sex?”
“Oh, really? You’re worried about that?”
“...yes?”
“Not, say, hopeful?”
“...maybe, sir?”
“When you see me looking at your plump, perky tits, you want me to leave them alone? When you spread your slutty legs and let Julie lick you, you want me to stay over here?”
“...ahhh...”
“You don’t, say, want me to slap your boobs around, push you down onto the table, force your legs apart and ram my cock into you?”
“...ohhh...”
“When you think of me fucking you, filling you full of come and making you my personal slut, that feels bad?“
“Nooo...no, sir...”
“You want that, don’t you?“
“Yesss... sir.”
“Good. That’s what bimbos like you are for. Julie, that’s enough for now.”
“As you command, sir.”
“Check back in half an hour. Tell whichever of Kate and Karen is free to pleasure you to orgasm while you wait, you did wonderfully.”
“Thank you, sir. Shall I bring a collar for her when I return?”
“No, that can wait for the car. But good girl.”
She nodded and left, carefully keeping the door from letting any view through.
He walked around the table and watched his latest acquisition rubbing herself, trying to keep up what Julie had started.
“So, tits. You want me to fuck you?”
“Yessss”
“You want me to treat you like the sluttiest of performing girls?”
“Yessss”
“You want to become my cocksleeve?”
“Yesss. Ohhh, yes. Pleassssse. Please, sir...”
He picked her up and spread her on the end of the table, tits up and legs wide. His pants were off and his boxers loose. He stuck the tip into her, just enough she could feel it.
“Morrrre...”
He slapped her tits, hard, and she made a more pained “eep!”
“You want more of that? More of this?”
“Yes, yes sir, please, yes...”
He twisted her nipples as he pushed deeper in. She moaned in lust and pain.
“You want me to take you like this?”
“So much...”
“If I do that, you’re mine. I’ll take you home and keep you.“
She moaned.
“Keep you naked and horny, denying you orgasms except when I stuff you full of cock. Keep you as a bimbo in stripper heels.”
The moans continued.
“I might even record me fucking you, and upload it with those deepfakes, so that you can never again say they’re all fake.”
She was incredibly agitated, trying to push herself down onto his cock but failing as he held her back.
“Though you will be able to say that all the real ones have you marked with a slave collar. If you want them all to know that you don’t just show off your tits to the world, you crave men to control you.”
Her breath caught as she twisted, still trying to get the dick deeper.
“There’s one last thing to do to get all that, whore. Beg me to fuck you and call me ‘Master’.”
“Ohhh... please. Please, master, fuck me. Need your cock in your slave...”
“Good girl,” he replied, and gave her exactly what he’d promised.
When Julie returned, he was back in his seat, his new slave was kneeling next to him, thighs stained with semen, quietly being hand-fed.
“Congratulations on your latest success, master,” Julie said with a grin, bowing deeply to him.
“Thank you, girl. You did well. Were you properly rewarded?”
“Yes, sir. Kate said to pass on her congratulations as well.”
“You didn’t say who it was, I trust?”
“No, sir, but all the others have guessed, correctly. Seeing you control her on live TV was extremely arousing. I think we all paired off to visit each other, we needed the release only you and your slaves can give us.”
“Good job taking care of each other. Please call the car, for twenty minutes from now, back door. And clear out the stairwell, of course.”
“At once, sir.”
“Not quite. Slave, you should thank Julie for helping reduce you to your proper state.“
“Thank you, Julie, ma’am.”
“Give her a kiss.”
She started to rise to her feet, but he jerked her down by her ponytail. “No. A kiss, like she gave you.”
“Yes, master,” she said, and bent toward Julie, who hiked up her uniform skirt and was soon moaning quietly.
“Good. That’s enough, slave.”
Julie nodded. “Needs more practice.”
“Yes, but she won’t be working with you, so it’s not urgent. Now go call the car.“
“Master... do you have a few minutes for me?”
“Come back when the car is five minutes out and I might.”
She smiled hugely. “Yes, master.”
When she came back, the new slave was back in her blouse and dress, missing buttons again, bed-headed, and reeking of sex, but technically street-legal. She was leaned against a wall touching herself again—he wanted her used to edging constantly as soon as possible, and he’d been leaning on her mind heavily all evening so it was a good time to start.
“Five minutes out as requested, master.”
“Good girl. Alright, up against the wall.”
She hiked up her skirt and pulled her top outward, exposing her breasts for him to tease and torment. He was hard again, and went quickly, but she was, as usual, in ecstasy despite the perfunctory fucking.
“May I kiss it, sir?,” she asked as he finished and she put her uniform back in its ‘proper’ position. Also as usual.
“Yes, you may clean it.”
She knelt and lovingly licked everything off his dick, bringing him back half-hard.
“Oh, I wish you had more time, sir.”
“But I don’t. Go clear the stairwell and fetch the new girl’s collar.”
“Does she have a name, sir?” He liked to give his slaves new names, though she obviously knew the news anchor’s prior name.
“No, I think she will be nameless for a while. Unlike you and your sisters here, I don’t need her good for anything but sex.”
“...hot. I wish I could be that.”
“I need you useful, girl. But if I want to take one of you away and prepare them to be given to another owner as a pure sex-toy, I can put you on the list of candidates.”
“...less hot than being yours, sir. Not flattery. But I think if you prepared me for a few months I would have the desire satisfied, and probably be reduced enough that I’d still love the treatment even at another man’s hands.”
“You’re a gem, Julie. Extremely useful.“
“Thank you, sir.”
They soon got down the stairs, cleared as promised, and Julie had an especially fancy collar in the closet next to the door. He slid his new acquisition into the back seat and turned the separating window dark; the driver knew the address already.
“Do you know what this is, pet?”
“Collar?”
“A slave collar. The woman wearing it is my slave.“
“Me?”
“Yes. Now, slaves do not orgasm except as their master orders them to.”
“Yes, master.”
“And you are not just any slave. You are a fuckslave. Fuckslaves don’t think except as their master orders them to, either.“
“Yes, master.”
“Fuckslaves edge themselves whenever they can, to keep themselves horny bimbos.”
“Yes, master.”
“And when you put this on, you will entirely be a fuckslave, nothing else.”
“Yes, master.”
“So it will take away your brain, and leave you a useless bimbo cunt, not good for anything but sex and being displayed as a sex object.”
“Yes, master.”
“Do you want that?”
“Yes, master.”
“Do you need that?“
“Yesss. Yes, master, need it.”
“You want me to take your mind away, and leave you a useless whore of a woman, only useful as a fuckslave?”
“Yes, master. Take it, master. Take... me? Master?”
“Good. Now, you are going to put this on, and the moment it’s fastened, you are going to have an orgasm so intense, you will forget how to think. And because you will be a fuckslave, you won’t try to remember.”
“Yes, master. Have your cock in me, master?”
“Good girl. Yes, you may. First, strip all those clothes off. Fuckslaves don’t wear clothes.”
She nodded excitedly, tearing off the blouse and skirt. (Bra and panties had been tossed in the trash incinerator at the restaurant already.)
She slid onto his dick, moaning.
“Good. Now, repeat these words: ‘Serve master’.”
“Serve, master.”
“Keep repeating them.”
“Serve, master, serve, master, serve master, serve master, serve master serve master serve master...”
“Good. Now, here’s the collar,” he said, wrapping it around her neck, “Push the ends together and fasten it onto yourself”
“servemasterservemasterservemasterservemaster...,” but she was just barely coherent enough to manage it.
“OOOOOOHHHHHHHHHH!!", she nearly screamed—no way the driver didn’t hear that.
He came instantly. Nothing quite like a new conquest to get him off. Though the home-made porn he was going to film using her was probably going to be nearly as good.