Tied & Shocked — A Spectre Livestream EP. 1 ( for Thurman )

[Monsy]

Spectre turned the camera a few degrees with a nudge from an outstretched hand to capture Dot's penance.

She turned to face her lieutenant, hip against the mobile cart, no laptop in the way, and gave Dot the full attention that she earned.

A bow. This was correct.

Proper. And Spectre? Postured tall, chin straight and eyes down. Shoulders forward, arms down. Not only did she nooooot respond to that slew of praise that stroked her brain wrinkles, but instead raised a brow as if to judge. Under the mask was the faintest smirk. She could get used to that sort of reverence in many ways. And she forgot what exactly pinched her a few moments ago.

"Proceed." Said Spectre, then turned around and returned to the last few fixtures to monitor the chair, making sure all parts ran smooth as they could given this dinky setup. Dot's show ran overtime to ready the drugs. All at once? Now that was something Spectre wasn't sure about. Sometimes the greatest source of smiles for her was exactly this point. Needle in the neck, power-switch handle-gripped, an answer in one simple flicker of will and the dice shall roll. Seeing Audrey's chest start to noticeably PUFF-PUFF-PUFF, the Virus shared a sense of pride for the move that got Audrey all worked up.

Only when prompted did she push off into a single long stride. "WHAT do we want?" Spectre put herself directly in Audrey's lap, then reached to grab her chin to look into those eyes. Her finger tapped just under the eye. "This." Before she leaned in to Audrey's ear, hand coming up to shadow's Dot's own, gently clasping the syringe with a thumb circling the plunger. "And since you want to play with what's not yours, I'd say it's you that abandoned reason." Whispered Spectre, giving a glance to Dot before together they'd fully inject her through a neck vein. Spectre again turned Audrey's head to lock eyes with her as they did it, unflinching, if not slightly warmed red across her cheekbones.

Then she got up, facing the camera and shrugged. "This arrogant little minx has declared us senseless. That we can't execute. She thinks us lowly and primitive. And that she is so much better than us that she could single-handedly satisfy both our appetites while tied to an electric chair." Grabbing the cart with the camera, she wheeled it forward and put in-front of Audrey. "Does this look like the face of a provider?" A few seconds marinated the question, then Spectre finished, "No." Her hand outstretched, hooking on the ring of Audrey's top, then pulling on it with a hooked index finger. "But she does have the bod."

Her glance at Dot just begged the extra sentence: That you're sooooo hypnotized by apparently.

"So what should be provided first, you think? Top? Or bottom."

[Malkavia]

```

TITS

OR

ASS

LOSERS?

```

Was it perverse to kick the question to the dickless fuckfaces on the stream? Yes, so much so Dot could taste it, rotting at the back of her throat. But something told her that no preference of Dot's would be correct to Spectre. And anyway, it helped the dollars pour in.

The vote was not close.

Dot offered her captain the most sweeping and baroque of bows, while her deep, male voice played a line from a 1976 recording of the British Proms: "If I may do the honour, Madame?"

She may, so said Spector, so Dot stepped into the camera's foreground at an angle calculated not to blot Audrey from the field of view. She lifted her leg. Her heel dug into Audrey's groin—pressed until she felt the delight of her soft skin beneath, then harder and deeper. Harsh. Sorry, Audrerz, but I need a good grip.

There was enough light in the dark, concrete room that Dot could see the gleam of her pink fingernails, portruding from the ends of fingerless gloves, when she reached up and grabbed the thin strands of Audrey's top.

RRRRRRRIP!

And, as they say, they let the ladies fly. They were pretty cute—smooth, pale. Perky. Perkier than you might expect for someone whose face was so...tear-stained. Not to mention massive. A pair of plush, warm avocados the size of some girls' heads. Dot reached forward, cupped the one nearest to her navel, thumb over the nipple.

She had an impulse to squeeze and twist. To claw. Or punch, PUNCH, PUNCH!!

Instead, she lifted her hand to the bottom edge of her LED helmet. She found a button, pressed it, and pulled away half her mask—from her upper lip down. Beneath, lips painted in pink gloss smiled wide and wicked.

She ran her tongue along the edge of Audrey's eyes.

"Alright, sugartits. For the camera and our continuing scientific investigation." Her thumb's nail grazed the areola's tender, slightly bumped surface. A gentle scratch to perk the girls up. "Tell us all about what our little cocktail's doing to your noodle. What do you see? What do you feel?" Her face tilted lower. This time, her tongue ran from her jawline up to the bright red hair for which she was so well known. "Make it entertaining and maybe. Perhaps. I'll be gentle."

[ThurmanMermanPlx]

It seemed the only thing that Audrey's frantic rambling had achieved was to draw Spectre away from whatever it was she was doing by the camera and into her lap, instead. A hand cupped her chin, directing their gazes to meet. Audrey attempted to shoot her a glare, but panicked terror still reigned as the prominent expression on her face despite desire to reach out and strangle the pair of robots right then and there.

Audrey did not have time to ponder Spectre's verbal jab at her before the physical jab pierced her skin. She winced; not much different than having blood drawn, really, but she hated that, too. Her heart surged either way, sheer terror injected into her along with whatever drugs were in that vial. Her eyes had squeezed closed as they injected her, but she forced one back open as Spectre again drew her focus by the chin.

"This arrogant little minx has declared us senseless. That we can't execute."

"Wh...what?" Things were already moving too quickly; Audrey was still freaking out over the injection that she barely had time to register that Spectre was speaking, let alone what it meant.

"She thinks us lowly and primitive." Well... not exactly the words she'd have chosen, but it was close enough to barbaric.

"And that she is so much better than us that she could single-handedly satisfy both our appetites while tied to an electric chair." Her brain effectively shut off there.

A finger hooked through the gold ring holding her top together, and for a moment, Audrey expected her to simply pull on it until the threads shredded. "H-hey...!"

"But she does have the bod."

"....." Maybe it was the drugs, but somewhere deep down underneath the anxiety, Audrey bristled. Was that... a compliment? Or a tease? She couldn't tell. Nothing made sense anymore.

She didn't have to worry for long about it; too many other things all fighting for attention, and all she wanted to do was just pass out. But Dot decided then to step in, her heel pressing into the redhead's groin. Audrey's body jerked violently at the sudden pressure as if startled by it, despite seeing it coming, her eyes squeezing closed just afterwards. She hissed through her teeth.

Was it just her imagination, or was she feeling more sensitive than she had before? Was that from the drug coctail? Or maybe she was just more on edge. Probably some combination of both.

And with what little focus she had to spare dedicated to squirming futily against the pressure on her crotch, she didn't notice Dot going for the kill that Audrey had anticipated moments before until she felt her support vanish. Being exposed was nothing new for the redhead, even on camera. But even so, it never seemed to get any easier; her cheeks burned every. Single. Time. And that only intensified as Dot's fingers began to caress her. She was unable to supress the flinch nor the moan when a thumb brushed her nipple.

The unwanted arousal that that triggered was at war with the disgust of feeling Dot's tongue on her face, yet still for the most part buried beneath the heat. Both sensations fueled the color on her cheeks, regardless of the reasoning behind them. But the thing that triggered her stiffening the quickest was the nail scratching at her naturally sensitive flesh. Through her panicked gasps, that one touch drew out a loud, sharp, primitive gasp, the redhead's body arching against her restraints. There was no mistaking how that made her feel.

"Tell us all about what our little cocktail's doing to your noodle. What do you see? What do you feel?"

Audrey hadn't even thought about individual effects until she heard the question. And somehow, even though the frantic horror making her heart beat three times as fast as it should be, bringing her attention to the question helped to focus on them.

When she answered, her words poured out quickly and accompanied by frenzied gasps as the continued tingling ravaged her. "I can't focus!" she declared. "Heart racing- colors too bright- nnnnnhhhhh- stop touching me! Can't think, too hot..."

[Monsy]

Dot proved supremely more eager to free the canopy and abducted Spectre’s top-pull to do one of her own. The Boss returned to her station out of view, then watched Dot tear with the might of almighty jack. Hearing the material streeeeetch and tear like if you took the sound of fire crackling and stretched out that single crack into several seconds.

Then it went. Tits for her debut! Wow! Dot knew how to sell herself to LAW money—to watch her devour someone else slowly—lead to places only through her unique imagination could logic. Spectre pondered a cigarette rather than see where this slimy areola touching and licking was going. Still-faced. Her buy-in was just the voice. How Audrey reacted to the drug was going straight to mental quotes for her log books. She seemed unconcerned about the situation to her eyes, but rather every new tickling in the moment. If she let the shackles go, then could she even move?

“Well you have to think, Audrey. Tell us what’s wrong. Can you even move?”

On the computer, she toggled her metal clamp shackles to finally open, leaving Audrey free to rebel as she pleased with only an electrode hat all tangled in that hair.

“Defend your honour. Dot’s got a mind for the kinda video she’s making, so you’ll be here for hours if you dooooooon’t.”