Unfortunately for Stiletto, the drone.

Stiletto runs as fast as her bound body can go, cursing that her arrogance has put her in such a precarious dilemma. She easily outpaces the infuriated, and now limping, rotund Hunter, and even gets a few steps on the quickest member of the pursuing mob. Yet all is for not, for the drone is one of the new and very expensive XRIP models, which easily catches up with the former CIA agent in the open of the park.

The raven haired athlete doesn't even see the blue beam shoot from the mechanical monster's underside metal tube. It stuns her only for a moment, enough to make Stiletto fall to soft park grass. As she tries to stand, however, the drone slams into her, forcing her back to her stomach.

"No!" Stiletto screams, her mind finally clearing to the cruel fate now in store for her. "Not the drone!"

The machine with soulless efficiency and tremendous strength rips away the Hunter's lasso with four of its metal legs and then clamps down on the Stiletto's wrists and ankles. Another six legs shoot out from the machine's back and arch down to the ground, planting themselves firmly into the dirt. As these legs contract the hopelessly struggling Stiletto is raised off the grown to face the assembling mob before her, while her body is stretched out in a "X" like fashion.

The devilish contraption's red eye extends around to Stiletto's front and scans her body, no doubt recording every second of her humiliation in high-definition, while the remaining two arms make short work ripping off the rest of her clothing.

Infuriated, the now naked Stiletto looks away from the cheering crowd, her rage trying to mask her fear.

"Contestant 'Stiletto' you have been defeated eight minutes into the game." A heartless robot like voice comes from the fiendish contraption's eye. "You will now be violated for the remaining 52 minutes for the viewing pleasure of the audience."

"You fucking assholes, that wasn't in the contract!" The dark haired contestant vainly protests over the approving applause and whistles of the reassembled crowd.

The drone's flexible tube snakes in between Stiletto's legs as a rounded lubricated phallic tip of some considerable girth begins to extend from the metal hose curving up towards her exposed cunt.

"Oh fuck!!" The defeated Stiletto strains at her bonds in a vain attempt to avoid being rutted by the metal monster.

"Receiving final commands before commencing 'end game' protocol." The machine coldly speaks to itself, "Calibrating trust intensity level to 'savage' setting in three, two, one . . ."