It started out as a side project, but quickly turned into a webcam site where the models were required to wear a virtual reality headset, and follow instructions. Viewers could choose instructions from a menu. The models would not hear them, or see them. Impersonal, and automated at first, models would be encouraged to edge, stop, edge, breathe, hold positions or other exercises (a ‘corrupted’ form of pilates, usually), edge, drink water, repeat mantras, change position, edge…. The program guides them to become fit, expert at edging and being good hypnotic subjects, hypnotic but also employing behavioral conditioning methods to develop a craving for approval via clicker-training (except using the phrase “good toy” instead), ultimately resulting in a web site of models where you never see their faces because they’re wearing VR headsets, each unable to cum without permission, each desperate for viewers to please, following instructions and making themselves as desperate as they can, wanting to go deeper, and needing that approval of hearing “good toy”, especially because it makes them all the more aroused and submissive, because each time they hear “good toy” they feel a wash of pleasure that reinforces their desires and makes them better toys. It also extends the model’s minimum time before orgasms might be allowed, a hot mindfuck that makes hearing ‘good toy’ all the more delicious to hear.
Many viewers complain that they can only choose from a menu of instructions and messages rather than chat directly, and they might have a small point, but they also missed the entire point. For those who love the institutionally sadistic feel of it all, and for those who love watching models edge themselves into hazy obedience it was the only site they ever visited.
Once a month, the top three models who haven’t yet visited are invited to visit headquarters for a week where they can verify that the orgasm block is inescapable and the submissive programming is complete, all while wearing a VR headset playing special, very rewarding programming tailored just for them. Those that do this earn a special ‘badge’ on their profiles that causes them to be featured more prominently on the site, and sometimes are invited to company events.
The CEO was still in the office late Friday night. With a few clicks, he looked over the toys currently on cam, edging their minds away, some drooling, some begging to hear “good toy”, most of them full-time models who have been doing this for hours each day without any idea how long it’s been since they were allowed to cum.
However, with one exception, the CEO’s favorites to watch weren’t the ones everyone else loved. He preferred the ones who were new and weren’t streamed to the public yet, who didn’t even know for sure they were being watched by anything besides software, and who are still hesitant to repeat the mantras and go deeper even though the idea turned them on.
His exceptional favorite? An ex-journalist who decided to fake her way into the program and write an expose. Nobody can fake or resist for long without the system flagging them, and those flagged don’t realize that they receive special attention by trained hypnotists who manually direct the program and work closely with developers to improve the software. It was there that she was first noticed.
She was responsible for more company attention and success than any other model. It was her that caused the creation of a secret counter-espionage department to identify and respond to would-be moles, convert them, and then provide feedback and rollout out any custom code or changes what they’ve learned into the main program.
They made a believer out of her. She submitted a good review (that, unfortunately her editor called a fluff piece and refused to publish) and stopped… for a while… long enough that the department began to worry. Then she started it again as if temporarily losing her willpower, then coming to her senses and stopping again… but one night she was back online for hours, and the custom programming patiently waiting for her did the rest.
Only a handful of people know why she is now an enthusiastic beta-tester and champion of ways the program could help with exploring masochistic, humiliating fantasies. Even they know they can’t take too much credit, though — she’d secretly had those fantasies all along.
Currently, her favorite fantasy, and reality, is to be hypnotized to be the scared novice journalist she used to be, except even more shy and embarrassed about masturbating, held prisoner in a locked in a room of one-way glass, barren except for herself and a few sex toys, without any memory of how she got there. Then, the taunting voices begin, undeniably turning her on, reminding her that people are watching it all, and how some of them might hope she can resist, enjoying her slowly lose herself to the inevitable, describing how much they’ll all enjoy watching her succumb, unable to keep herself from rubbing that ache that’s growing, growing. The voices explain to her that giving in won’t even be worth it because as soon as she starts touching, she’ll only get a few seconds before she’ll be dropped into a good trance, rewarded, but then reset to do it again, and again, until there’s no more resistance left and she’s repeating every slutty mantra she’s told, blissfully losing all self control, mounting suction-cup dildos on the floor and wall and demonstrating how she’s a toy that needs to be fucked and used, all while rubbing her clit feverishly, pushing hard against that orgasm block in her head because she loves how it makes her feel controlled.
It’s one of the few times his company ever showed content with a model’s face not covered with a VR headset. It never gets old watching her in the initial interview, then a few minutes of VR, watching her breathe and squirm fully dressed until she robotically removes the headset, enters the Fishbowl (as they call it) and then slowly gain consciousness, awareness, and confusion. Initially banging on the glass and trying to escape the voices, horrified that they know the truth about her, how her ache conflicts and betrays by growing with knowing that she is being watched, how the voices seem to vibrate in her clit. It’s inevitable, but it never gets old because each time is her first time, with no memory that she’s been there before, that she herself actively helped, and even described how fucking hot it was for her to lose the struggle and give in.
Then the closing interview where she is so aroused that hypnotic amnesia like that is even possible and that she’s looking forward to doing it all over again next month.
Each month had it’s own little twist. It was very entertaining to watch her last month when she began to rearrange her dress so she could rub while hiding it from the cameras as if it let her hold onto a remnant of lost innocence, reluctant to give in to being lewdly on display until she was overcome. Tonight, though, she’s wearing jeans and, she doesn’t realize it at first, a chastity belt that has a remote vibrator. The angry, humiliated, aroused sound of her retorts are amusing when she finally discovers it and the taunting voice informs her that it will not unlock until viewers stop paying to add more minutes of denial, until she begs to rub and edge for their entertainment lewdly enough and they can tell how badly she needs to edge.
He brought up his personal phone, logged in via proxy to a secret customer account he had set up months ago and acted like a real customer for several weeks all with this night in mind, and kept adding time to the countdown, making her stew and stew. Customers began to be annoyed that somebody kept delaying the finale, but others thought it great fun and joined in and requested mantras like “the longer I’m locked, the more I need to touch and obey” or “my clit aches more each time I say”
… if they only knew, he thought, adding even more time.
Somewhere in the lower levels of the building, someone tapped the director and showed him a message from the CEO that said “Wow! This is getting out of hand. Replace the choice to add more minutes when a choice to withhold the chastity keys for a week. Price it at 100,000 credits. If that guy pays that much, I’ll personally make a deal with her and if she doesn’t agree then we’ll more than refund the 100,000.” The director had already started to worry about how long this might continue, and was relieved to read the note.
The CEO arrived in person just in time to watch her handler to untrigger her so that she reverted into her current self with all her current memories, plus tonight’s, then prepare for the post-session interview.
During the interview, she confessed she loved it but really needed to get out of this chastity belt. The look of shock on her face when they read the CEOs note to her was very entertaining, and the arousal as she considered it was even better.
And of course she found it arousing. That note was its own post-hypnotic trigger that unlocked one more memory, a memory where she was confessing a fantasy to her handler of being locked in a chastity belt, used and teased to tears, with no mercy or hope except a promise to unlock her in a week if she was a good toy. Only if she was good toy. It truly was her idea, and not only did her handler fulfill it and surprise her with it but now the CEO was in on it?!? which meant… holy fuck… she blushed all over again, and couldn’t bring herself to admit that this was her own doing… or maybe it was just coincidence. She squirmed and had trouble finishing the rest of the interview.
She rode the elevator up to the CEO’s office. “There’s no way I’m going to make it. Do you have the keys?”
“Nope,” her handler grinned, “The CEO already has them. Why, are you a desperate toy?”
Desperate. That word itself was a trigger. “Oh fuck, you meanie!” she hissed while trying, and failing, to get any relief by squeezing her thighs together. “I can’t negotiate like this!”
The door opened, the receptionist wasn’t here. She followed her handler into the CEO’s office. The CEO grinned, keys dangling from his fingers, and said “Come in! Strip and sit down! This is going to be a fun week!”
…. or something like that…
… but she couldn’t think…
… the only thing in her head was the realization that she’d never met him, never saw a video of him, but she knew his voice… his voice was the VR program’s voice, the one she’d been listening to, obeying, edging to, fantasizing about.
She just stared at him, realizing that if she begged for the key for the chastity belt… she really wanted him to withhold it from her, but the very realization that the CEO was, literally, the voice of her fantasies slammed her against the orgasm block in her head, put there by his voice she realized and another wave of desperate need and blocked orgasm crashed through her, made the thought of not rubbing impossible.
“I know that look,” he told her. “That’s the look of someone who is so desperate that they’d cum if not for the orgasm block, and that turns them on more, which makes them more desperate to cum, all while knowing that this is only the beginning. But for you, this is an especially steep spiral because you know that no matter how many times it goes around and around, making you more desperate each time, making you more willing to obey, to edge for me, to feel your fingers rubbing yourself into a haze, you can’t, because I. have. your. keys.”
The things that just the sound of his voice was doing to her brain made her ever-more aware of the belt and the rising heat within, and he knew it, and continued anyway, “Don’t worry though, you can definitely still edge for me. You’re doing it right now, aren’t you? Which is both a blessing and a curse because that just means there’s no reason to let that clit have rubs it needs, doesn’t it? Just think about how much more it turns you on to know you’re going to edge for me, again and again, even though that chastity belt is going to stay locked, you poor, poor thing.
“In fact, you’re going to be edging for me most of the night just from thinking about how you’re going to be edging for me all week.
“When the effect of how desperate you are, how this was your fantasy in the first place, how your reaction reassures me that, no matter how much you might beg, you want me to be merciless, when that all makes you edge even harder until it’s all you can do to not rub between your legs right here except oh you have a chastity belt, and it all hits you again, harder each time …
"When all that wears off just enough that you’re not on edge, close the door, strip, and crawl to this chair, legs wide, dragging your nipples along the carpet as you do it.”
She looked at the chair he had gestured to, saw the anal dildo strapped to it, realized how much she needed that in her ass right now, and edged again, and again.
He turned to the handler and said “You’re welcome to watch, and even spend the night at my place rather than arrive tomorrow as planned, but just the act of getting her to the chair might take an hour, at least, especially since I’ve rigged things up so that the vibrator in her belt is controlled by my phone… which gets a notification every time this motion detector senses anything…”
He put his hand on the power strip connected to the motion detector but didn’t turn it on, yet. “This is what you wanted, right?” he addressed her directly, “You want to be kept so desperate you’d do anything to rub your clit and suffer through a week where you aren’t just teased, but teased and denied as a method of breaking you, again, and again, for a solid week, all while that belt stays locked. Correct?”
She visibly convulsed against the orgasm block. It has been so long since she had cum! Worse, it had been hours since she had rubbed her clit and need to so, so much. Aweek? What the fuck had she been thinking? But the question just brought her to a harder and harder edge. She was certain that if she could get this chastity belt off sure might even break the orgasm block in her head… but she knew that wasn’t true, it was never true, she was never going to cum without permission, probably never again, and she sank against the wall, convulsing in wave after wave of the spirals he described. Knowing that he knew it made it even better. She surrendered to it.
“That just might be the strongest silent ‘Yes’ I’ve ever seen.” He clicked the power strip on, and the thoughts in her head of both “yessssss” and “noooooo” came too late; the vibe started, proving her wrong: There was no getting around that orgasm block. Overwhelmed, she convulsed again and pulled at her nipples through her shirt before her eyes flew open at the realization of what she had done in front of him, and somehow that made it all the more intense.
“Good toy!” he taunted, exactly like she had heard so many times before, and she could only whimper.
She started to take off her jeans when he commanded “No. No crawling until you’ve stripped, no stripping until you’ve closed the door, and not even that while you’re on edge. If you edge, just pause, let it sink down deep, and begin again when you’ve stopped edging. Awwww, what’s the matter, are you realizing how the motion detector will make this take a long, long time before you’re allowed to sit in your special good toy princess chair?”
Her bratty glare at him wasn’t very convincing while she was visibly convulsing from his words.
