Sam's dare - A webslut going live!

The cold, clinical stretch of the speculum was a brand of ownership, a permanent claim staked on her most intimate geography. Cathy lay splayed on the rug, her body an open wound of humiliation, each slow, rhythmic drip from her exposed core a ticking clock measuring her descent. The air in the room was thick with the musk of her arousal, a scent that was now public property.

Then Sam spoke. Her voice was different now. The playful mischief was gone, replaced by a cool, technological certainty. “My turn.”

Cathy’s breath hitched. She tried to focus on Sam’s face, but her vision was blurred by unshed tears and the dizzying height of her shame.

“You’ve been a very good girl for the camera,” Sam said, a small, cruel smile playing on her lips. She held up her phone, the screen now dark. “But a recording is just a memory. It lives in the past. I think it’s time for the main event. Time to make some new memories, live and unedited.”

Erica, moving with the synchronicity of a shared mind, was already across the room, opening a laptop on the low coffee table. The screen glowed to life, casting a pale blue light on her intent face.

“The dare is this,” Sam continued, her eyes locked on Cathy’s. “We’re setting up a private live stream. You’re going to perform for a real audience. You’ll do the cucumber dare again, from the beginning. But this time…” She paused, letting the horror sink in. “This time, you’ll read the live chat comments out loud. You’ll respond to them. You’ll give them exactly what they ask for.”

No. This was the word that had died in her throat so many times tonight. Now, it didn’t even form. It was a hollow, silent void of terror. A recording was one thing—a private shame to be replayed among these seven girls. But a live stream? For strangers? It was uneraseable. It was happening, somewhere, to someone, in real time. The knowledge was a cold knife in her gut, terrifying and yet, perversely, electrifying.

Erica’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “Setting up the room now. Password protected. Invite-only. Sending the link to the usual crowd.” She glanced up, her green eyes gleaming. “They’re going to love this. Fresh meat.”

A username counter appeared in the corner of the screen. It read: 1.

Then it jumped. 5… 12… 27…

Numbers, representing people. Men, women—she didn’t know. Anonymous eyes, now tuning in to watch her.

The first comment scrolled across a dedicated window on the screen, stark white text on black.

-> User_Shadow23 has joined the room.

-> BrattyBrit: is that a new one?

-> LordVortex: spread wider slut lets see that cunt

Cathy flinched as if struck. The words were so brutal, so impersonal. They weren’t spoken; they were typed, which made them somehow more real, more deliberate.

“They’re asking for a closer look, Cum Dump,” Sam said, her voice a parody of a gameshow host. She nudged the laptop with her foot, turning it to face Cathy. “Read it. Out loud.”

Cathy’s eyes, wide with horror, were dragged to the screen. The words seemed to burn themselves onto her retinas.

“L-LordVortex says…” Her voice was a dry, broken rasp. She swallowed, the sound loud in the silent room. “He says… ‘spread wider slut lets see that cunt’.”

The act of giving voice to the vile command made it hers. It came from her mouth, shaped by her tongue. She was now the instrument of her own degradation.

“Well?” Erica prompted. “You heard the man. He’s a paying customer.”

With trembling fingers that felt like blocks of ice, Cathy reached down. The speculum was still in place, holding her cruelly open, but she obeyed. She hooked her fingers into her own stretched flesh, beyond the plastic arms, and pulled. A soft, pained gasp escaped her as she exposed herself even further to the camera on the laptop, to the dozens of unseen eyes now watching.

Another comment flashed up.

-> User_Shadow23: holy fuck shes actually doing it

-> BrattyBrit: tell her to play with her clit i want to see it get hard

“B-BrattyBrit says…” Cathy’s voice trembled, a tear finally breaking free and tracing a hot path through the sweat on her temple. “…‘tell her to play with her clit i want to see it get hard’.”

Her own hand, moving as if disconnected from her body, rose from where it was pulling her open. Her index finger, shaking violently, found the tiny, hyper-sensitive bud that was already throbbing from overstimulation and shame. She gave it a tentative, circular rub.

A choked sob escaped her. It felt… good. Amidst the horror, the direct contact sent a jolt of pure sensation straight to her core, which clenched helplessly around the empty air held open by the speculum.

“She’s getting off on it,” Allison murmured, her observation clinical. “Look at her hips. Tiny little circles. She can’t help herself.”

-> LordVortex: USE THE CUCUMBER AGAIN YOU FILTHY WHORE I WANT TO SEE YOU GAG ON IT FIRST

The command was a fresh wave of nausea. Cathy read it out, her voice a monotone of despair, each word a stone dropping into the abyss of her former self. “L-LordVortex says… ‘use the cucumber again you filthy whore i want to see you gag on it first’.”

Erica, with a grin, retrieved the vegetable from where it had been discarded. It was still slick from her mouth, from her pussy. She held it out.

The memory of the taste—salty, musky, hers—flooded Cathy’s mouth. Her stomach turned. But her hand came up anyway. She took it.

“Do it,” Sam ordered, the phone now pointed at her face, capturing every micro-expression of revulsion and **** obedience.

Cathy brought the blunt end to her lips. She opened her mouth. She could see the pale green tip, could smell herself on it. She pushed it in.

The sensation of it hitting the back of her throat was immediate and violent. Her body convulsed, a deep gag reflex seizing her. Tears sprang to her eyes. She pulled it out, coughing, strings of saliva connecting her lips to the glistening vegetable.

-> BrattyBrit: LMFAO she can't even take it

-> User_Shadow23: deeper you stupid bitch

“They… they want it deeper,” Cathy gasped out between coughs, the words a pathetic report from the front lines of her own ruin.

She pushed it in again, deeper this time, fucking her own throat with it. Her eyes streamed, her nose ran. The sounds she made were ugly, guttural, animalistic. The camera on the laptop watched, the comment feed scrolling faster now, a waterfall of encouragement and ****.

-> AnonymousUser: spit on it make it wet for your hungry hole

-> LordVortex: thats it take it all you fucking cumbucket

She was their puppet. Their words were her strings. She pulled the cucumber from her mouth, dripping with saliva now, and without being told, guided it down between her legs. The speculum was still there, a brutal reminder of her exposure. She angled the tip, and with a soft, wet sound, pushed it back into the aching, empty void it had just left.

A collective, hungry sigh seemed to come from the girls in the room. The live chat exploded.

-> User_Shadow23: YES!

-> BrattyBrit: fuck herself stupid look at her go

Cathy’s hips began to move again, a frantic, automatic rhythm born of desperation and a terrifyingly genuine need. Her eyes were glued to the screen, reading the comments as she fucked herself, her voice a broken, breathless rasp over the wet, slapping sounds. Meanwhile, the number in the corner of the screen ticked past fifty.