Mona and Craig's Last Cam Show

“My balls are going to burst!” Craig complained. It had been three whole weeks since his penis was imprisoned in its steel cage. Craig had agreed to wear a chastity device to attract more viewers. They needed money badly for rent and other expenses. Mona had first put Craig in stringent bondage as part of a show and repeatedly brought him almost to orgasm before applying an ice pack and locking him up. His struggles as the cage was applied were delicious. Mona sat on his face for cunnilingus afterwards. She teased him repeatedly until tonight.

“I know, poor baby, but you don’t get the code until we earn enough money,” replied Mona. She tugged at the tight steel collar that she wore. It, and her wrist and ankle cuffs, were also locked on until a total of $10,000 was collected.

Mona and Craig usually updated nightly on their blog. Each Sunday they did a show. This however was the big one. The final drive to reach the goal, do or die. They just needed a little over $1000. Mona was chained spreadeagle to the bed. The tension of the chains was decided by viewers’ money. Her collar was chained to a five gallon bottle suspended from the bed frame, filled by a pump with water or emptied by an electronic valve. A vibrator was stuck in her pussy and electrodes clamped to her labia and nipples. The petite brunette made sure she looked her best: helpless, cute, and sexy in bondage.

Standing near the wall opposite, facing the bed, was her boyfriend. Craig, chastised, was in his own audience-controlled predicament. Before binding herself, Mona had cuffed his wrists tightly behind him, gagged him, and locked his ankles in shackles anchored to the floor. His own collar was chained to a winch mounted on the ceiling whose spool the donors could reel in or reverse with their contributions.

“Hey, everybody, thanks for watching! Hope that this is our best show yet. Check out the new options to torture us,” Mona announced. Craig gave his muffled greeting. Their cam site showed viewers what was available: Mona’s chain tighteners, her choke bottle, her vibrator, the electrodes, and Craig’s hanging winch. Once the patrons contributed the total amount, the show was over and Mona’s magnetically locked chains automatically released. A set of video cameras allowed switching between different views, to focus on Mona, her nips and pussy, Craig, the bottle, the winch, or the whole room. Donations started at one dollar, to run the vibrator for thirty seconds, with correspondingly higher fees for the more severe controls. The countdown before viewer participation ended. The live show began.

The first option selected and paid for was Craig’s winch tightening slightly. He grunted in alarm, his eyes wide. It wasn’t dangerous yet; the chain was still loose. A monitor displayed the patron’s name, amount, and total for the night. Next was a $10 donation for Mona’s bottle, which filled with several cups of water. Her pussy moistened. Breath play always excited her, as a recipient or voyeur. “Thanks, patrons, but you want the show to last. Don’t kill us too quickly.”

Mona was vibrated, briefly. She struggled against her chains, both in frustration and for the enjoyment of the audience. She saw Craig’s chastity cage twitch as his penis tried to swell as he watched her. He breathed faster. His neck chain tightened again.

The show settled into a routine: donations trickled in, bringing mostly torture, sometimes relief or pleasure. Mona begged the audience for mercy when the torture became too much. The water bottle filled, and the winch pulled; Mona’s collar pressed into her throat, and Craig tilted his head to gain some slack. He began to complain through his gag and pull at his cuffs. “Don’t draw attention to yourself,” Mona warned. Craig’s chain tightened at the same time. Mona’s vibrator turned on and off, keeping her on the edge. Usually the denial was followed by shocks. She continued to struggle. About half remained to be collected of the total.
Eventually their goal was in sight. Mona and Craig were relieved. They both were tired: Mona was painfully stretched and the bottle was nearly full; she felt dizzy from the pressure on her neck. Craig was on tiptoe, his legs straining to balance. The vibrator option met their goal and Mona was at last rewarded with a huge orgasm. She looked forward to her chains unlocking and the bottle draining. She wasn’t sure if she would free Craig right away, not even his dick. “Thanks, patrons, for helping us reach our goal! You’re great! We love you. Bye,” she said, her voice hoarse from strangulation and fatigue.

Then something went wrong. A popup unexpectedly appeared on the monitor; the audience could see it on their end as well. “CONGRATULATIONS, WEB PERFORMERS! YOU’VE DONE IT. NOW HOW ABOUT A LITTLE EXTRA TO REWARD THEM AND PAY THEIR FEES? WHAT DO YOU SAY, PATRONS?”

There was another popup, with a choice to click “YES” or “NO.” Mona fought against her cuffs. She thought she had disabled that feature. “No, no, no! Stop program. Emergency override.” The computer didn’t respond. Mona remembered she deliberately didn’t activate voice command as she wanted to talk without the computer hearing and interfering with the show. The popup disappeared and the donation window opened again. Craig glared at her, and flipped her off, struggling frantically. Drool flew from his mouth around the gag as he tried to yell, then he gasped as he lost his balance and his throat was squeezed.

They don’t die. A kind patron keeps them from strangling and calls an admin to end donations and free them.

Mona let out a sigh of relief as the electromagnets securing her limbs and neck finally shut off. The water bottle was kept from falling from the ceiling by a bolt inserted in the neck chain. She sat up with an effort, sore from her ordeal, and slowly removed the various apparatuses that had tortured and pleasured her. Now for Craig.
She walked leisurely over to him. He eyed her with trepidation. “So, you gave me the finger and cussed me, huh?” Their Good Samaritan patron had left him flatfooted, but Craig was still tethered to the winch. Mona switched the winch to manual and pulled him taut. He tried to speak, an apology or a plea to be freed, she wasn’t sure which. He held out his cuffed hands in supplication. She ignored him and ran her own hands over his body, ending with his imprisoned genitals. Craig moaned as his penis pressed against the confines of the stainless steel tube. Holes in the chastity displayed his swollen flesh.

“Poor thing, all locked up for days and days with no cumming,” Mona taunted, fondling him. “I’ll get the code now.”

An email from the web cam company with the code to free them should have been sent when their goal was reached. Mona went to the computer. Sure enough, the email was there with the code for the safe holding their keys. She wrote the code down, then mischievously chose to delete the email and hide the paper. Now only she held the means to end Craig’s torment. She pulled at her own steel restraints, but she wouldn’t unlock them and give the game away yet.

“No email yet, lover,” she lied. “But we can still play.” Craig grunted in disappointment. He was suspicious, but couldn’t do anything about it. “Now you be good and let me set something else up. You don’t want to strangle, right? You want your cock unlocked real bad, don’t you, baby?”

Mona freed him from the winch, collar and the floor eyebolts, but left his handcuffs and leg cuffs on. She placed Craig on his belly in a hogtie, ankles to wrists, on a cushion near the winch. She exchanged his ball gag for an oral sex ring-gag. Mona then put another cushion directly under the winch, and magnetically locked her own collar to it, with a time limit of a half hour. Her collar was special: it had sensors to monitor her pulse. She set the winch to retract incrementally whenever it rose above a 100 beats a minute.

Mona then sat on the pillow, the chain hanging loosely from the winch. She further restrained herself with a tight metal belt, again with magnetic time locks, to two rings set low in the wall. She wrapped her legs—strengthened from long hours of pilates—around his neck, forcing his mouth tight against her crotch. A wide tight leather strap squeezing her thighs together provided extra security. Last she joined her wrist cuffs with an ordinary padlock. “Now lick, baby.” She emphasized the command by contracting her muscles.

“You have a clever tongue,” cooed Mona. “You just might kill me yet.” Soon she gasped in ecstasy and the chain retracted. Craig continued to probe the recesses of her vagina. The chained tightened again. She could try to push Craig away, but he felt so good! Mona caressed her breasts and spread her labia.

Oblivious to the outside world, eye shut tight, consumed by pleasure, Mona was surprised by a yank on her collar. All the slack on the winch was gone! That had happened faster than she expected. Ten minutes still remained on her magnetic locks.

Craig was still at it, relentlessly licking, licking, flicking, his long tongue thrusting deeper inside her. “No! No more!” Mona said, pushing on his forehead, pulling on his ears, squeezing his neck. He wouldn’t stop and his neck was too strong to bend back. Craig’s looked up at her, eyes bright with sadistic glee.

Mona tried to undo the thigh strap, but the buckle seemed to be jammed. She was pulling at the end of the belt desperately, when she had yet another orgasm and the winch retracted, threatening to cut off her air.

Craig finally stopped. He had proved his point. Mona tugged at her collar and belt, trying to gain some slack, trying to stay calm, waiting for the magnets to turn off. Craig poked her at random intervals, making her jerk and gasp. “No, Craig! You’ll kill us both.” She slap