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PUNISHMENT 120 –Part 18,
betrayal
Della Domina
and Jenny Pearson drove back to New Los Angeles the next morning – Karla Conway
was sent on ahead by Della in the camera crew truck.
Throughout the leisurely
drive back – an important factor in 2077 when fossil fuel is at a premium – the
pair smooched and fondled each other, the 38-year-old
mom who had so painfully extracted her revenge on her son, occasionally going
down on Della’s lovely aromatic minge.
The robot driving the
Lincoln Town Car affected not to notice the sexual athletics going on behind
it, and Della and Jenny were both sexually satiated but happy when the vehicle
drove up to the main entrance to Sex Sinema’s
headquarters.
In her vast office, Condy Conty broke open a bottle of
celebratory Korbel-Krug champagne and they toasted
what all hoped would be a highly-rated documentary starring the busty mom.
Jenny signed the contract,
and then Condy looked at her superstar, Della.
“Della,” she said, “the
powers-that-be have noticed a what shall I say? A
certain spark between you and Jenny here?”
Della looked at the younger
woman and smiled. “I guess that’s one way of putting it,” she agreed.
“So much so,” said Condy, “that they want you to direct the Mom’s Rape Revenge for the channel. Any objections?”
Della frowned. “What about
my own show?” she asked. “Who gets to replace me?”
Condy smiled. “There’s only one show left in the current
series and we’re thinking of getting Brenda Bonda to
front it, and we’ll simply superimpose your face and figure and voice track.
You know the technicians, they can do anything these days.
“Anyway, you know I’ll be
keeping a close eye on things to protect your interests, darl.”
Della nodded her agreement.
“Fine by me, as long as the slut doesn’t try to take over in my absence,” she
said, well aware of the jealousy her fame and huge ratings had attracted from
other Sex Sinema fronters.
“Good, that’s settled then,”
said Condy. “Now, where do you want us to put you up,
Jenny, you can’t live in that little condo while you’re playing the part of a
star for us?”
Della pushed in. “She’ll be
staying in my mansion out by the beach,” she said. “I’ve got two cockslut slaves as you know, and my girlfriend will be
pleased to meet Jenny when I explain the latest series of the P-120 show.”
That Della’s girlfriend, a
stunning Asian girl, would also have the “hots” for the 38-year-old mom – Mindy
had a “thing” about blondes – need not be mentioned, thought the TV front
person.
“Super,” said Condy, rubbing her hands together, “that’s settled. Oh,
we’ll get shooting scripts for the first day’s filming out to you later this
afternoon. One other thing – we’re going for accuracy and shoot at your condo,
Jenny.
“That all right
with you?”
Jenny Pearson laughed. “What
with the money you’re paying me for my appearance, I’ll soon be moving up in
the world,” she replied. “Yep, fine by me.”
Later that afternoon, Della
introduced Jenny to her girlfriend, a tall, busty Asian girl. In 2077, people
no longer remarked on Asian ladies being tall and busty – Mindy was an inch
short of six feet, and had 34DD breasts, high and firm.
But since hormonal advances
had been made by New America’s finest medical experts, Asian women were no
longer all shorter than 5 feet 4, with proportionately small busts.
“Mindy, this is a new friend
of mine, Jenny Pearson, I think you’ll get along just fine,” she said.
Mindy, who had been sunbathing in a
lounger by the Olympic-sized swimming pool and was wearing one of those
scandalous “teardrop” bikinis where the teardrops just covered nipples and
pudenda, smiled and stepped into Jenny’s arm.
“Course we will, Della,
silly,” smiled the dark-haired beauty, planting a long smoochy
kiss on Jenny’s mouth. “She’s blonde, isn’t she?”
Then, while the blonde mom
and the jet-black haired Oriental beauty made out on a lounger, Della summonsed
her two cocksluts and ordered a bath and bottle of Korbel-Krug.
As she lay back in the
massive bath, the two naked cocksluts – a black man
with a 10-inch cock who she called “1” and a white man with a lovely suntan and
a 9-inch erection she called “2” – massaged her body, before the black was
forced beneath the water to eat her to orgasm. He was allowed to surface three
times to catch his breath before bringing Della to completion.
The next day, they started
shooting, and Della was delighted to see that Jenny got on very well with the
19-year-old cockslut, Clyde, and by the way his cock
rose to meet her cunt, asshole and the valley between her breasts, the feeling
was mutual.
Shooting went perfectly,
Jenny proving herself once again – as she had when she had flogged her son’s
cock and nuts – that she was a natural when it came to acting.
Then, on the last day, just
as the last scene was being filmed, Della’s vid phone went – right in the
middle of the take where Jenny was inspecting the naked boy, deeply asleep
after drinking his mom’s cream soda vodka.
“What the fuck is this, Condy?” snapped Della, “can’t you see we’re fuckin’ shooting?”
A grim-faced Condy peered out of the screen at Della. She was
bare-breasted and smoking a cigarette urgently as if it was to be the last
cigarette of her life.
“Sorry, babe, but an
emergency’s come up. Far too delicate for a vid phone call.
Do that shoot, then get your ass in here. I have bad,
bad news.” And the screen went blank.
Della’s mind wasn’t really
on the last shots of the day – Jenny calling the Perversion Police, them
injecting her with truth serum, and of dragging away a screaming
soon-to-be-slave.
Instead she was sending permutations
through her mind as to what “bad, bad news” could possibly be. Was she being
dumped from the show? Had the latest ratings fallen off the meter? Had a
disaster occurred in the cutting suite? Had the precious film of Jason’s
floggings gone down the tubes?
It was a frowning, worried
Della Domina who marched into Condy
Conty’s office, snatched a cigarette from the packet
on the director’s desk, and sat with a crash into an easy chair opposite the
busty black bird.
“Shoot, and don’t spare the
punches, Condy,” snapped Della, inhaling sharply on
the nicotine buzz the cigarette gave her.
Condy was in one of her “I’m gonna
lecture you” moods.
“As you know, Della, the
Domination Agency Board is one of our biggest sponsors, along with the North
Shore Leather Whip Factory and that Sapphic Sadists organisation down in San
Diego,” she started.
“Tell me something I don’t
know,” Della snarled.
“OK,” said Condy, drawing the word out, “for the past two weeks the
DAB has paid out huge money on the exacta on your show.”
Della looked amazed. “You
mean, someone actually got the number of strokes, the time of the first scream,
the time of the first tears ...” she started, but Condy finished her sentence for her.
“And the number of glasses
of urine you fed the slut, AND the number of times his flogged area of flesh
was drenched in horses’ urine,” said the director, grimly.
“Fuck,” said Della, quietly.
“The odds against that happening must be huge.”
“And what about the odds
against it being struck by the SAME fuckin’ punter?”
asked the grim-faced black beauty.
“Oh, about as likely as be
being hit by lightning and surviving,” said Della. “TWICE!”
Condy nodded.
“The DAB put their
investigators on the winner of the first exacta. It was a ticket purchased by a
woman in the Long Beach area,” she said.
“They checked on her, she
seemed legit. Then, when the exacta went off again last week, they checked
again.”
“Purchased by a woman in the
Long Beach area, same woman?” said Della, smiling slightly now, aware that some
of her worst fears were being eliminated.
“Correct,” said Condy, sliding a large, glossy picture across her desk
towards Della.
Della looked at it. The
picture showed a very pretty woman, her light brown hair cut in a short-style
which indicated her sexual preference was for members of her own sex. She had
large, pumped breasts, with prominent areolae. At her crotch she was shaven,
the displayed labia were bright red.
She was also in agony, Della
could tell. Electrodes were attached to her large, thick nipples and her
swollen and engorged clitoris. She was strapped to an electro-torture bench.
“Recognise her?” asked Condy Conty.
Della frowned in
concentration as she looked at the woman’s contorted features. “She’s just
another face in the crowd.” Then she pushed the picture of the woman being
tortured back to Condy.
“Her name’s Linda Labia,”
said Condy. “Know her now?”
Della was puzzled. “Linda Labia? Well, the name’s familiar, but it can’t be. I
mean Linda Labia? She’s ..... She’s .....”
And then the awful truth hit
her.
“She’s Karla Conway’s
live-in lover,” said Condy, grimly.
Della inserted a cigarette
in her mouth and lit it. She noticed that her hand was trembling.
“Karla fuckin’ Conway? MY
fuckin’ Karla Conway?” she heard her voice almost
screaming. “MY fuckin’ production
assistant?”
Condy nodded slowly. “Correct. She’s been feeding this
cunt whore the numbers. That’s how lightning struck twice! At first, the
Perversion Police didn’t twig the connection with Karla, then
they asked the janitor in the apartment block if they knew anyone living with
the Linda Labia slut.
“And the janitor says ‘Oh
you mean that lovely lady from the P-120 program, she works for that gorgeous
Della Domina’. And they put two and two together and
came up with Karla fuckin’ Conway!”
Della inhaled and blew a
plume of smoke towards Condy. “How long you known
about this fuckin’ mess?” she snapped.
Condy shifted slightly. “The day after you started
shooting Mom’s Rape Revenge I got a
call from top brass at the DAB. The Perversion Police had already been out to
Punishment Park and brought Karla back here for interrogation.”
“Who’s that leave helping
out the cunt Brenda Bonda?” asked Della, concerned
now that her program was without a production assistant.
Condy looked at a sheet on her desk. “A Cross-Designator
by the name of Staci, you’ve used her, remember?”
Della indeed did remember
the 20-year-old blonde CD with the pretty face. “Pert breasts, 34-ish, blue
eyes, uncut cock, just over eight inches. A cum machine.”
“And, according to Brenda, a
fuckin’ good PA,” smiled Condy.
“So, what happened?” asked
Della, although she damn well knew what.
“Both bitches were taken to
the Perversion Police headquarters, the subterranean torture bunker,” said Condy. “They decided to work only on the Linda whore. She’s
32, they thought she might be fun to work on first.
“Karla, of course, had to
watch. The bitch – Linda Labia, I mean – was tough. She endured whips, bondage,
piss punishments, and even was doing well under the
electro stuff, but then they forced Karla to torture her.”
Della raised an eyebrow.
Condy laughed: “Yep, they strapped her hand to a
generator handle and made her turn it. Said stuff like ‘This clit torture comes
to you from your girl friend, cunt – enjoying it?’
“And after a few minutes of
that, Karla couldn’t take it any more. She broke. Confessed
everything. And they didn’t even lay a finger on her!”
“What’s happened to them?”
asked Della.
“Well, after the confession,
both tarts were given the truth serum and it appeared that when they got a
massive payout for the first exacta, greed got the better of them.
“Karla provided the facts
and figures for the next episode, and bingo – greed was their undoing.”
“I asked what’s HAPPENED to
them!” snapped Della.
“Oh, the Linda bitch has
been sold into slavery to the Sapphic Sadists down in San Diego. They’ll keep
her occupied pretty well 24/7,” said Condy, using an
old, early-century term.
“And Karla?” asked Della,
quietly.
“Well as far as Karla’s
concerned that’s over to you,” said Condy, lighting a
fresh cigarette.
Then she went to the drinks
cabinet and opened a magnum of the New American-French bubbles, Korbel-Krug.
“What the DAB people and
what our board want is for her to undergo a P-120 session. They want you to
front it, of course. It can be used as an instructional tool – a warning to
people that cheats never prosper,” said Condy,
passing her star a flute of champagne.
“And then?” asked Della,
thinking how gorgeous her ex-production assistant would look being flogged in
the strong Arizona sun.
“And then she may be kept at
Punishment Park as a sort of slave-plaything,” said Condy.
“You got any objections to that course of action?”
Della shook her head. “Fuck
no,” she said, vehemently, “fuck the bitch!”
“Great,” said Condy. “Now, who will replace her? Any
ideas?”
Della nodded. “Yep, if
Staci’s as good as that cow Brenda makes out, I’ll take her. On
approval of course. She can work with me as Karla gets fucked over and
if I like her, and I think I will, she can come on board. That OK with
Priscilla and the Punishment Park people?”
Condy grinned. “I’ve already signed her on!”
Della sipped on her bubbly.
“You got any ideas of how
you’ll go about the P-120 torture with our treasonous, treacherous bitch?” asked
Condy.
“Oh yes, oh yes, indeedy,” smiled Della. “I’ve got a very specific angle of
attack for that cunt!”
“Care to enlighten me?”
asked her director.
“No,” said Della, stubbing
out her cigarette and sucking down more champagne. “You kept me waiting over
the news that you’d actually gone and signed Staci on to the crew.
“So I’m gonna
keep you waiting about my plans for Karla fuckin’
Conway. But believe you me – they’re gonna be worth
waiting for!”
Condy Conty smiled at her
superstar.
“Della, my darling, I’d
expect nothing less!”
To be continued.
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