After a restless night, Susan awoke to find that the lights in her cell were on again. The cuffs on her hands relenquished their grip soundlessly, and she freed herself from the foam padding she had slept on. The heavy cell door opened on a hydralic hinge, revealing what she now realised was the main corridor in this place. Glancing along it, she saw that there was another door open, a little way down the corridor. The display on the ceiling read "slave B17 to web room." Her bare feet made no sound on the spotless plastic floor as she made her way to the "web room," whatever that was.

On stepping through the door, Susan was not surprised when it closed behind her. Taking stock of the new room, it was hard to miss the main attraction. In the middle of the floor was a rather odd-looking chair. It was smooth and contoured, and also made of the beige plastic that now made up the rest of Susan's world. Facing it, so it could be seen by the occupant, was the standard LED display, currently reading "OFFLINE." There were also little glass windows in the wall, facing the chair from various angles, behind each of which a camera was visible.

Befoe she could notice any more, the display changed. Now the words "ASSUME POSITION" scrolled across it. Susan examined the chair more closely. As before, it was obvious that there was no way of doing anything but following the instructions she was given, and she began to see what she was going to have to do. The "chair" was not like any other she had seen. It had a back, with the two halves of a buckling rubber strap hanging from it. There was another strap a little lower - where, Susan realised, the waist would be. Another two straps would hold each leg onto the moulded legpieces of the chair at thigh and ankle, holding the legs in a V shape and the crotch open and available. Padded armrests with the standard self-closing padded manacles would restrain the hands.

On even closer inspection, there was a pair of strange bumps on the seat of the chair - presumably, Susan reasoned, to keep the occupant from moving their crotch away from whatever was to be done to it. Such ominous thoughts were not good or her state of mind, but they were very persistent. She managed to ignore them, however, and approached the chair.

Susan lowered herself onto the seat. It was, like most of the fixtures she had enountered so far, srprisingly comfortable, while allowing virtually no movement. As she was about to touch the seat, she felt a cold touch at her pussy lips and anus. She jumped up, startled, and realised that the bumps on the seat were in fact twin dildoes. Knowing that there was no alternative, Susan closed her eyes and forced herself down onto them. They did not penetrate at all far, she was surprised to find, just enough to give an uncomfortable "plop" as her sphincter let the head of the anal intruder through. Despite herself, she felt a shiver of arousal as the vaginal dildo passed her labia.

The higher of the two straps on the back of the chair buckled closed under Susan's breasts, holding her firmly in place. The waist belt did the same to her lower body. She found that she had to undo the chest strap to fasten those on the ankles and thighs. With the chest belt refastened, Susan placed her arms onto the padded rests, and her hands onto where the cuffs would close, and closed her eyes, waiting for the soft click that would signal her imprisonment once again.

It didn't come. Susan opened her eyes again and saw the display. It now showed "ATTACH NIPPLE CLAMPS." "Nipple WHAT?!!" she asked herself. She had a sudden vision of the test-tube clamps from the lab she had been happily visiting just forty-eight hours ago, and winced. She looked around, and noticed what she had missed earlier. A pair of black circular disc-like objects was trailing on the floor, attached to the back of the chair by thick cables, also in black. As she picked them up, Susan saw that they were in fact shallow cones, with a hole in the middle into which her nipple would easily pass. As each clamp was placed over its respective nipple, she felt a firm grip, but strangely, no pain. Counting her lucky stars, Susan once again braced herself, and placed her hands in the marked position. This time the expected click came, sounding all the louder for her nervousness.

Susan sat like this, with her eyes closed, for the next thirty seconds or so. When ravaging doom failed to occur, she opened them again. The display had changed again. Watching it as it scrolled, she read:

***ONLINE*** 0 users...Anal: 0...Vaginal: 0...Pain: 0...Threshold: 10

Susan sat, puzzled, at this for a while. Suddenly, the number before "users" flicked up to 1. Then 2, then 3, then 4... Soon, the other numbers started changing, but the total never went above that of the users. Then it hit her - this was a voting system! She was still congratulating herself on her detective work when she saw, in horrible slow-motion, the number after "anal" change from "9" to "10", and suddenly realised what the "threshold" was. A split second later, her fears were confirmed as the dildo lodged in her anus began to stir. Glancing to her left, she saw the camera pointed at her shapely buttocks refocus onto her with a short whine, as the dildo began to move further.

Susan had never experienced anal sex, but explaining this to a machine was going to be rather difficult. Instead, all that escaped her mouth were a couple of gasping sobs as the dildo moved further and further. Now it was moving by a couple of centimetres at a time (this may not sound a lot, but just you try it...). Now, it was thrusting at about 10, and suddenly, it plunged deep into her, then withdrew nearly completely, then plunged in again. Susan tried to struggle against her bonds, but the waist belt held her firmly impaled. The sobs became more frequent, and eventually contnuous. Here she was, strapped helplessly to this demented chair with 54 - no, make that 56 - complete strangers watching a close-up of her being anally deflowered by a hydraulic dildo. The sobs became louder, interspersed with gasps at each stroke of the dildo. She struggled harder, pulling on her trapped hands and feet, trying with all her might to escape this violation. The dildo was reaching its full speed now. This apex lasted for another full minute of groaning, sobs, and helplessness before Susan felt the strokes gradually weakening, until eventually the intruder had retracted to its original position.

As her rectal muscles gradually closed up again, Susan had the presence of mind to watch the display again. The vote count for "Anal" was now reset to zero, but the number of users online was growing with each passing minute. With more users, the threshold went up, but Susan's short respite was taken up not by relaxing but tensely waching the screen. It seemed that those that had voted for "Anal" were no longer allowed to vote. A trickle of newly-arrived voyeurs increased the count, but "Vaginal" and "Pain" were neck-and-neck. Susan was now sweating, and her heart beating faster than it had done yet that day, more worried over two numbers on an electronic screen than she had done in the whole time spent being anally violated. Those listening to the microphone hidden in the corner of the room were rewarded with a gasp, then a huge sob as "Pain" crossed the new threshold in the lead.

There then followed a few seconds of quiet, and Susan sat there, her mind spinning in fear and horror at what was to come, wondering when or where this pain was to come. Her questions were answered far too soon for her liking. Her final thought as she felt the clamps tighten was "Nipples - I should have guessed!", before the wave of agony hit her and all she could do was scream. Susan screamed and screamed. Two minutes of tightly crunched and rolled nipples felt like an eternity. The clamps tightened and relaxed, then squeezed and twisted the aching flesh once again. She balled up her hands into fists on the armrests and thrashed as hard as she could, but the chest strap held her so firmly that all she could do was make her breasts jiggle, which only increased the pain. Finally, it was over. The terrible "Pain" count went back to none, and the scoreboard scrolled for another quarter of an hour - long enough for Susan to consider her predicament. Watching the votes with one eye, she panted to a standstill. She wiped her tears on her shoulder, and thought about how she must look to her watchers. Bound, helpless, and unaware of their presence, they must have thought, at any rate. In fact, the reality was far worse. Susan *watched*, as each person logged on, as each successive click of the mouse brought her closer and closer to another ordeal. It seemed that the "Vaginal" supporters had used all their votes for the time being, but those for "Anal" just seemed to be coming right back. Sure enough, they crossed the threshold about a minute later.

Once again, the dildo started to move. Once again, Susan closed her eyes and sobbed at the sheer humiliation. The thrusts came long and steady. Much to her own chagrin, she discovered that this time her vaginal dildo was getting distinctly damp. To Susan's horror, she was actually enjoying this violation, this rape. She gave a token struggle, but before long she had given in to her treacherous body. The sobs were now mixed with moans - of delight or horror, she wasn't sure. In the end, she almost reached a climax before the cycle finished, leaving her on the edge and bitterly disappointed.

Another ten miutes was spent watching people the other side of the world decide her fate. Susan almost cheered when "Vaginal" crossed the line. She managed a heartfelt "thank you" out loud and then recoiled, disgusted. She had been kidnapped, raped in front of complete strangers she couldn't even see. And she had just *thanked* the same mob who had just deflowered her, and whose camera, if she was not mistaken, was now training itself on her captured pussy. The shame was too much to bear.

At that point, though, the dildo moved inwards, bringing with it almost at first touch a mind-shattering orgasm. Her moans and groans gradually died down, but they were soon building up again. Susan climaxed so many times that she lost count before the dildo finally retracted. She pushed her groin towards the retreating shaft, but the waist belt remained unyielding. This reminder of her restraints brought her back to her predicament, and she suddenly realised what she had just been doing. Violated again, and enjoying it, loving it! She felt so dirty, a real slut. She tried to wipe the tears from her eyes, but her hands were still held by the manacles she - she herself had put them into.

Another round of anal stimulation began, and Susan started once again at the intrusion. This continued for another two hours. The audience's main preference seemed to be anal penetration and pain, and occasionally both together - an excruciating mix that carried on for a whole quarter of an hour. Finally, the grand finale came - half an hour of penetration in both orifices. The orgasms were too numerous to count, the shame too much to tell. When the dildos finally came to rest and the manacles popped open, Susan stayed strapped into the chair, shaking. Eventually, she looked up. The display read "Slave B17 to lunch".

Gradually, she undid her bonds. Unsteady on her feet, she walked out of the web room, which closed behind her, hiding its contents until the next victim approached. The door of her cell was open. and closed behind her as she entered. As she sat down, Susan pondered what would be next...