Judgment

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"The performances have now concluded. Both users must exit their rooms for the final judgment."

The AI voice rang so loudly in that quiet room that it almost hurt.

Gretchen was still between my legs.

Her eyes half-lidded, her body still trembling from the orgasm I'd granted her.

I sat up.

Our eyes locked again.

She looked... peaceful.

For maybe the first time since I'd known her.

"Come on," I said sternly. "Get off me."

With some effort, we separated our sweaty, exhausted bodies.

I grabbed my boxers and pants off the floor, pulled them on, buttoned my shirt.

Gretchen just stood there, arms crossed over her oiled tits.

No clothes for her.

I took the collar and leash off her.

Even though it looked perfect on her… It still felt like it was supposed to stay here.

I looked around, wondering if there was some special walkway or door she had to go through like all the others so far.

But no.

It looked like my options were to leave her here… or have her follow me.

It’s not like the AI had forbidden the latter.

"Stay close," I told her.

She nodded quickly, her cunt still oozing and dripping with my cum.

Probably the only thing keeping her warm in this chilly facility.

We walked out.

The rectangular room with the two doors was the same as before.

Blank walls. Cold light.

The door marked DAPHNE was still closed.

I stood there.

Waiting.

Gretchen standing next to me, still probably confused as fuck.

My heart was doing something irregular in my chest.

Okay. I was nervous.

Probably understandable, given the situation.

Thirty seconds.

A minute.

Then Daphne's door finally opened.

She stepped out.

Alone.

And she looked... immaculate.

Not a hair out of place. Her black vest still crisp, her posture still perfect, her expression carrying that familiar, infuriating serenity.

Like she'd just finished a light yoga session instead of whatever the fuck she'd been doing in there.

Her eyes found Gretchen immediately.

Swept down. Lingered on the tits.

"Oh my," she said, her lips curling. "E-cups? F?"

I said nothing.

"I knew you were full of shit. You like big tits too, ay, you scallywag."

She reached out toward Gretchen's chest.

Casual.

Like she was testing fruit at a market.

I slapped her hand away.

Hard.

The crack echoed off the walls.

Daphne looked at her hand. Looked at me.

Smirked.

Like she was enjoying this.

"Where's yours?" I asked.

"Hmm?"

"Your… subject. Where is she?"

Daphne's smile changed.

It was subtle. A slight widening. A slight sharpening.

The smile of someone remembering a private joke that nobody else would find funny.

"Mommy is... currently quite indisposed."

The way she said it.

The way her tongue curled around the word "indisposed."

Like she was savoring it.

Like it tasted good.

I opened my mouth to ask what the hell that meant, but-

"Before the results are announced, there is a matter that must be addressed."

The AI voice.

Filling the room from every direction.

I shut my mouth.

"User Daphne Redford has received multiple warnings over the course of her tenure with the application. While her actions during the final bout did not technically violate the explicit rules of the app, the nature of what occurred in her designated room is in direct conflict with the spirit of the application."

Pause.

"Consider this your final warning, Ms. Redford."

Silence.

Daphne rolled her eyes.

Actually rolled her eyes.

"I apologize sincerely," she said, her tone dripping with exactly zero sincerity. "It won't happen again. I promise to be on my very best behavior from this point forward."

Then she winked at me.

WINKED.

What the fuck did she DO in there?

With… Her own mother...

What could you possibly do that would earn a "warning" from people who apparently had zero problems with everything else that had happened today?

The cattle prods?

The orgasm battles?

The psychological warfare?

All of that was fine, but whatever Daphne did behind that door crossed a line that even THESE people considered too far?

But it wasn’t like I had ever received a single warning, so I had nothing to compare it to.

And she was apparently quite used to them.

My imagination started running and I immediately told it to stop. Some doors were better left closed. Some rooms were better left unentered.

But the thing that really got to me...

The thing that wormed its way into my brain and started chewing...

Was how calm she was about it.

How utterly, completely, serenely unbothered.

She just got reprimanded. By the people who ran this entire operation. At the most critical moment of the most important competition of her life.

And she winked.

Why would she be so relaxed?

Why would she...

Unless...

Oh.

Oh shit.

W-Why would the app people bother issuing a warning to someone who was about to lose everything? Who was about to become MY property? My slave?

Why warn someone whose app was about to be uninstalled?

You wouldn't.

You wouldn't waste the breath.

Unless…

No.

Goddammit no.

Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuckohfuck

"The judges have reached their decision."

Nononononononono, please no! No please-

"The panel was deeply divided. Both performances demonstrated remarkable levels of subject devotion, albeit through vastly different methodologies. The final vote was decided by a margin of a single judge."

…One vote?

One FUCKING vote?!

"The winner of the fifth and final bout, and therefore the winner of the duel, is..."

Please.

Please please please please for the love of every-

"...Daphne Redford."

…

The world tilted.

Like someone grabbed the floor and yanked it thirty degrees to the left.

I stumbled.

Caught myself against the wall.

No.

That's...

That's not...

I looked at Daphne.

Her smile had transformed.

All the pretense was gone.

She looked like a predator that had just heard the cage door unlock.

I took a step back.

My stomach was doing things.

Bad things.

Churning, dropping, clenching.

The taste of bile climbed up my throat.

This couldn't be happening.

I… lost?

I actually lost?

…I lost the duel.

All the time… All the effort…

Everything I had done to get this far… All my women…

And then I felt it.

Like a hand the size of a building pressing down on my shoulders.

Not physical.

Not exactly.

But so overwhelmingly REAL that my knees nearly buckled under the weight of it.

It… it was unreal.

The… authority.

The pure, undiluted, absolute authority.

And it was radiating from HER.

I looked at Daphne and she wasn't five-foot-seven anymore.

She wasn't a woman in a black outfit standing ten feet away.

She was a monument.

A tower.

A skyscraper of dominance that stretched up and up and up until I couldn't see the top, and I was nothing, I was an ant at the base of her, I was dirt beneath her heel, I was-

"Kneel."

One word.

My knees hit the floor before my brain even processed the command.

Both knees.

Hard.

The impact sent shockwaves up my thighs.

I was kneeling.

In front of Daphne Redford.

Like a subject.

Like a… slave.

She chuckled.

Low and warm and genuinely delighted, like a child unwrapping a present she'd been eyeing for months.

Oh God… How I wanted to put my hands around her throat, to extinguish that horrible, arrogant noise.

But even thinking that thought was starting to feel painful.

"I do so love the first time they kneel," she murmured.

I heard a section of the wall slide open.

A doorway.

Bright light beyond it.

"Subject Gretchen Rivers is to proceed through the indicated exit. Debonding procedures and memory wipe protocols will then begin."

Gretchen.

I turned my head and saw her standing a few feet away, her arms still wrapped around herself, her oiled body trembling, her face a mask of pure, uncomprehending terror.

She didn't understand what was happening.

She couldn't speak because I'd told her not to.

Somehow that order was still holding.

She tried to form words, but they didn’t leave her throat.

She looked at me on my knees and whatever she clearly wanted to say…

She couldn’t.

And then… Her body suddenly turned towards the door like some force had pushed her.

Wait…

Did I… Did I just see her face for the last time?

No…

DON’T GO!

"Wait."

Daphne's hand shot out and grabbed Gretchen around the waist. Pulled her close.

Possessively.

Freely squeezing her breasts against hers.

"You know what," Daphne said, addressing the ceiling, addressing whoever the fuck was behind all of this, "I think it might be fun if she stayed just a little while longer. I think she deserves a show, right?"

She squeezed Gretchen's hip.

Gretchen clearly didn’t like it.

"I hope you people agree."

Silence.

No AI voice.

No protest.

Daphne's smile widened. "Wonderful."

She released Gretchen, stepped toward me, and placed her hand on top of my head.

Like I was nothing but a dog.

Her fingers threaded through my hair, almost gentle, and she tilted my face up to look at her.

"So many possibilities," she whispered. "So, so many. I genuinely don't know where to begin."

Her eyes roamed over me.

Assessing.

Cataloguing.

I wanted to bite her fingers off.

"We'll have to do something about that penis first, obviously. I've been thinking about it since we met. Maybe neuter you. Snip snip." She made a scissoring motion with her fingers. "Or maybe... go the full route. Complete feminization. Hormones, surgery, the works. Turn you into a pretty little girl before I really start playing."

My stomach lurched.

This… sick fucking bitch.

"But that's long-term planning. Big picture stuff." She patted my cheek. "Right now... let's start small."

She gathered saliva in her mouth.

Leaned forward.

And spat on the floor in front of my knees.

A thick, glistening glob on the cold concrete.

"Lick it up… slave."

Every fiber of my being screamed NO.

Every molecule of my body said YES.

The force... the weight... the absolute crushing COMPULSION of the app was unlike anything I had ever imagined.

Is THIS what my women felt?

This overwhelming, soul-crushing, bone-deep need to obey?

Dear Jesus, it was so overwhelming!

Like all my five senses had teamed up to take over my brains!

"I said lick it up, Jack."

The pressure doubled.

But I fought.

God, I was fighting harder than I'd ever fought anything in my life.

Every muscle locked, every tendon straining, my jaw clenched so tight I thought my teeth would crack.

But my body was bending.

I could control some of my muscles, but not all of them at the same time.

Slowly.

Inch by inch.

My spine curving forward, my head dipping down, closer to the floor, closer to that shining glob of spit.

The fucking humiliation was already eating my soul.

I could smell the concrete.

Could smell her disgusting saliva.

Six inches away.

Four.

Then I heard the cunt talking.

"Open your eyes, dearie, look! It’s not something you see every day, is it? Your former master groveling like a worm in front of someone more powerful? Would probably feel good to see it, wouldn’t it? After everything he did to you? After everything he made you do? And the... modifications? Don't you want to watch him suffer?"

I tried focusing on them. Anything to stop the extremely intrusive thought of pushing out my tongue and- and-

Something happened.

Gretchen moved between me and Daphne.

In the periphery of my vision, I could see her holding up both hands toward Daphne.

Was she…

Was she gesturing for her to stop?

She even shook her head. Firmly. Desperately.

Like… Like she was saying “Stop. Don't make him do this. Please.”

"Why?" Daphne asked, sounding almost offended. "Why protect the fucker? Do you have any idea what men like him DO to women like us? He humiliated you. Degraded you. Turned you into his personal fucktoy. And you want me to... stop?"

Three inches from the spit now.

Two.

I could see my own reflection in it.

It was impossible to stop now.

It would have been like learning to fly while falling towards the ground.

My tongue came out.

I felt a piece of my soul breaking.

And then Gretchen dropped to her knees.

Right beside me.

She lowered her head.

And licked the spit off the floor before I could.

I watched her tongue drag across the concrete, collecting Daphne's saliva, and then she straightened up, swallowed, and looked up at Daphne with those steady blue eyes.

What… the fuck?

She was… She was protecting me?

After everything I'd done to her... she chose to take the humiliation herself rather than watch me suffer it?

Why?

WHY?

WHY THE FUCK WOULD SHE-

"Interesting," Daphne said flatly. "Touching, really. But ultimately pointless."

She turned to me.

"Hey, slave. Grab her throat. Pin her to the floor."

My hand moved before I could stop it.

The motion was automatic.

Practiced.

Burned into my muscle memory through weeks of repetition.

How many times had I wrapped my hand around Gretchen's throat?

Hundreds?

It was almost as if that was where it was meant to be.

It was scary how quickly my body obeyed things it was used to doing.

My fingers closed around her neck.

She hit the ground and just like that, I was on top of her, one hand pinning her by the throat to the cold concrete floor.

Our eyes were inches apart, and I could see everything in hers.

Fear.

Terror.

But…

Not hate.

Even now.

Even with my hand on her throat and a monster giving the orders and the entire world crumbling around us.

She didn’t hate me.

"Time to sever whatever cute little toxic connection you two think you have. Slap her," Daphne said.

My right hand rose.

Palm open.

Aimed at Gretchen's face.

And-

It didn’t move.

Midair. Trembling. Every muscle in my arm firing, the tendons standing out like cables, my hand shaking so violently it looked like I was having a seizure.

I will NOT hit her.

I will NOT.

Not unless I, JACK DINGLE, DECIDE TO HIT HER!

I’M NOT DOING IT FOR THIS GODDAMN FUCKING CUNT WITCH!!!!!

The pain… the pain was extraordinary.

Like someone had hooked electrodes to every nerve ending in my body and cranked the voltage to maximum.

My vision blurred.

My teeth ground together.

A sound came out of my throat that wasn't quite human.

But my hand did not come down.

"For fuck’s sake, why are you stuck like that again?" Daphne's voice was rising. "It's a simple command. SLAP. HER."

The force to obey her became even harder.

But…

Somehow…

I…

I…

Was able to…

My eyes locked with Gretchen.

They were blue. And so… wet.

And I couldn’t.

“SLAP. HER. You stupid, malfunctioning piece of shit!”

She kicked me.

Daphne kicked me.

Her boot connected with my ribs and I felt something crack, or maybe just bruise, but I didn't move.

My eyes stayed on Gretchen's.

Locked.

Anchored.

I don't know where this willpower came from.

But right now…

It was the last thing that was holding me up.

The moment I slapped Gretchen…

Jack Dingle was gone.

He didn’t exist anymore.

This body wasn’t his anymore.

And I knew it.

"Work, you useless..." Another kick. "...how long does it take to get a slave to..." Kick. "...WORK."

A tear fell out Gretchen’s eye.

I didn’t know why I was holding out anymore.

The game was lost.

Everything was lost.

There was no magical comeback left.

But… I had to.

The physical and psychological pain was unbearable.

But I had to.

"Seriously? OKAY, FINE THEN! LET’S GO ROUGHER! KNEE HER CUNT!" Daphne screamed.

My knee twitched.

Shifted half an inch.

And stopped.

Locked in place.

Immovable.

Daphne was losing it.

She was red-faced, teeth bared, fists clenched, and she looked nothing like the calculating mastermind I'd been facing all day.

She was a child throwing a tantrum because her toy wasn't working.

"How the fuck is this supposed to be a +100 slave? OBEY ME YOU TESTOSTERONE-FILLED PUPPET!!! BASH HER BRAIN IN!" she shrieked. "DO IT! LIKE A PROPER, GOOD SLAVE! BASH HER FUCKING BRAIN IN!"

And then-

Nothing.

Just like that…

The weight vanished.

Like someone flipped a switch.

Like the hand of God lifted off my shoulders and just... left.

The crushing compulsion, the bone-deep need to obey, the physical agony of resistance, all of it evaporated in an instant, leaving behind only the echo of where it had been.

I gasped.

Sucked in air like a drowning man breaching the surface.

My hand fell away from Gretchen's throat.

My body sagged.

I collapsed sideways onto the floor, chest heaving.

Daphne stood perfectly still.

Her face cycling through emotions too fast to catalogue.

Confusion.

Rage.

Fear.

More confusion.

"Kneel," she ordered, her voice a little shaky.

But…

Nothing happened.

"KNEEL!"

Nothing.

"What..." she whispered. "What is..."

Suddenly, the AI voice returned.

"The application does not permit commands intended to cause death or excessive bodily harm to subjects. This protection cannot be overridden by any user, regardless of standing or circumstance."

Daphne's mouth opened.

Closed.

Opened again.

"User Daphne Redford was informed that there would be no further warnings. The command to inflict fatal violence upon a person constitutes a terminal violation of the application's core protocols."

The color drained from Daphne's face.

Every last drop.

"As a result of this violation, the judges' decision has been reversed."

Silence.

Total, absolute, ringing silence.

"The winner of the duel is Jack Dingle."

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