This is the first part of what has become a six-volume epic. Later parts will need to be stashed under Extreme...
Angela walked through the Robo-Warriors Arena, a little nervous about her first day presenting. She was wearing an earpiece so that the producer could speak to her, and she could speak to him through her clip-on microphone. What she really wanted to talk about right now was her costume...
"It just doesn't seem... appropriate," she complained, in her sultry Irish lilt. "We never discussed anything like this at the interview."
"You know how this works, Angela," sighed Roger the producer. "Your role is to provide a bit of glamour on a show that's desperately nerdy."
"Yes, but I just don't feel that the bikini and high heels are necessary to that..."
"You want to take them off? Well, we might have to look at a later time slot, but I think that could be arranged."
"No, I want to wear something a bit more... dignified."
"Angela, this show is called Robo-Warriors. Dignity went out a long time ago. You look a lot more dignified in a red bikini and heels than most of our competitors will ever look in their lives."
"It's not just the bikini. It's the writing. Printing BEAT ME across the back of my bikini bottoms like that..."
"It's just a bit of fun, Angela. A humorous reference to the violent but harmless nature of the show. Anyway, I see from camera 3 that you're almost at the arena entrance."
"Yes, this is it. Now, I won't actually be presenting from inside the arena, right?"
"No, that would be too dangerous. These machines can really do some damage. I just thought it would be useful for you to check out the environment and sort of... get a feel for it."
"Wow, it's quite big. Kind of intimidating. Cold, too."
"Yes, I can see from camera 4 that you're feeling the cold, love! But when the flames start shooting up, it'll warm up, believe me."
"Uh, OK, but don't be starting that while I'm in here, OK?"
"Ha ha. No worries. Now, these are the new house robots. There are four of them."
"Wow, they look scary. What do they do?"
"This big fellow is called BITCHBEATER. He has a spinning axel on his head which rotates a leather belt, dotted with steel studs, at 60 miles per hour. Packs quite a wallop."
"It's just a bit of fun. The design has a sort of s&m feel to it, but it's all strictly playful. No offence meant.
"He has a painting of a naked woman in chains on his front panel. She has red whip marks on her bum. She's wearing a ball gag."
"Yeah, like I say, just a bit of fun. Now, this fellow is NIPPLE-CRIPPLER. Note the powerful pincers. They can cave in a lead pipe, I'm told."
"Jesus, Roger, this one's even worse. There's a painting on the side of him... pinching a woman's naked breast. And she's screaming."
"Well, wouldn't you? Don't worry about it, Angela, this show is strictly entertainment. Nothing's meant to be offensive about it."
"I don't like the way he's looking at me. And aren't they getting a little close?"
"They're just, ahem, smelling you out. Now, this nasty looking fellow is WHORESHOCKER. That rod sticking out the front is a souped-up cattle prod, able to deliver 20,000 volts."
"Yaah, keep it away from me. They're all way too inquisitive for my liking. And why must they all have these misogynistic names and decals? I don't know what that painting is showing, precisely, but the girl doesn't seem to like where the prod is going!"
The robots buzzed around Angela's legs, cold steel occasionally brushing her thighs.
"Robo-Warriors is very much a boy's show, Angela. And boys like to see girls in peril, sometimes. That's part of why you're here, actually. Now, this is SLUT-BREAKER. The thick drill he has for a nose does look a bit phallic, admittedly. He also has a steel aerial which he can use like a whip; Like so -"
The whip swiped across the backs of Angela's bare thighs.
"Sorry, Angela, that wasn't supposed to hit you. Listen, maybe you better leave, I can tell the robots are getting a bit too excited."
Angela hopped from one foot to another, rubbing her thighs. She could feel a weal rising up with the thin steel whip had caught her just a glancing blow.
"Excited? Who's operating these things? Tell them to back off. I'm YOOOOOWWWWWWEEE!!!"
Nipple-Crippler had just grabbed Angela's bum with its steel pincer, imparting a vicious little love-bite to the succulent flesh. Angela tottered away on her impractical stilettos, but WhoreShocker slid into her path and she pitched over him, landing with a slap tits-first on the cold metal floor of the arena. Sensing her vulnerable position, she started scrambling to her feet, but not before the little droid had pivoted around and thrust its cattle-prod at her briefly upraised bottom.
A hole was singed in Angela's bikini bottoms, revealing a tantalising bit of bare buttock, marked with a red spot where the voltage had been delivered. Angela rolled over onto her sore bottom in double-quick time, and started scampering backwards on her hands, feet and bum, as the curious robot warrior advanced on her, seeking to thrust its prod between her thighs for a second go.
"Watch out, Angela, you're backing into the -"
VOOOSSH! Flames shot up around Angela from the floor grid, causing her to scream as her ass was singed. And then WhoreShocker was charging straight between her legs. Angela rolled to one side, getting out of the flames and escaping the deadly cattle-prod joust by inches. She wound up on her elbows and knees, just beyond the flame-grill - and just in the path of BitchBeater, who advanced unbeknownst to her, swinging his steel-studded belt as fast as he could. Angela's upraised ass made an irresistible target: the flames had continued what the cattle prod had started, scorching away most of the material of Angela's bikini bottoms, leaving most of her arse-cheeks and arse-crack exposed.
Roger briefly considered warning Angela of the approaching pain, but thought better of it.
WHACK! Ow! WHACK! Ow! WHACK! Ow! The belt spun so rapidly, Angela had no chance to escape after the first blow, and was subjected to several more before she could start evasive action, but as she wriggled and crawled to escape the whipping, BitchBeater simply advanced, raining down a dozen more hard smacks on her suffering derriere.
Eventually thinking strategically, Angela lowered her pelvis to the floor, discovering that the height of the belt could not adjust that low. She was safely out of range. Then she saw SlutBreaker.
The robot was circling around to get behind her, and its dildo-drill weapon was rotating at speed, and lowering to floor level. Her current position would make her the perfect target for robo-ravishment.
"Roll left, Angela!" shouted Roger in her ear, and poor Angela unhesitatingly obeyed.
Avoiding the flame-grill, she positioned herself in a sitting position, legs curled in front of her protecting her sensitive lower parts from SlutBreaker's savage weapon. The other robots seemed to be circling her, looking for weaknesses.
"What -- hey -- whoaaah!" Angela suddenly found herself rising into the air. The arena was equipped with a steel rod which rose vertically from the floor, designed to tip over robots foolish enough to ride across it. Roger had directed Angela right onto it, and now it was pressing at the gusset of her bikini bottoms (about the only remaining but of fabric down there) and lifting her off the ground.
The thickness of the steel pole, plus the little piece of red cloth between Angela's legs, was the only thing which stopped the greasy pole from actually penetrating her, but she certainly felt the pressure as her entire weight rested on the tip of the rod. Squirming did NOT help.
BitchBeater chose this moment to attack again, raising its spinning belt level with Angela's tits and slapping into them at top speed. WHAP-WHAP-WHAP-WHAP!
The impact made Angela's luscious breasts ripple and bounce and redden, and in an instant her bikini top was ripped off and sent flying, snagging on Slut-Breaker's steel aerial. Reaching up to cover her breasts, both for modesty's sake (all those cameras!) and to protect her sore nipples from the onslaught of leather and steel studs, Angela suffered several blows to her arms, before the pole rotated, spinning her around so that BitchBeater could apply its belt to her bare bottom.
This made Angela determined to kick her way free and get down from this supremel unfomfortable podium, but just then, Nipple-Crippler lived up to its name by seizing painful hold of her left breast. The metallic pincers crushed down on her nipple, tugging and twisting cruelly.
"Waaaaahhhh!!!! Get it off me!!!"
"We're trying shut them down, Angela, they're just obeying their programming. Try not to antagonize them!"
As Nipple-Crippler yanked savagely at Angela's tender tit, and BitchBeater continued to pelt her arse-cheeks with stinging blows, SlutBreaker moved in and was able to deliver strategic strikes to her free breast, using his long steel aerial. A blow from that thing on the nipple had devastating impact on Angela.
"Waaaa!" she sobbed. And just then, her squirming about had disastrous consequences, as the steel pole holding her up slipped around the little piece of cloth that had been protecting her pussy, and the near-nude girl found herself sinking down one inch, two inches, three inches, rapidly being penetrated by the unyielding steel pole.
By the time Angela's bare knees touched the cold floor, she had nine inches of even colder metal inside her, and said metal was rising and falling rhythmically, unmistakably FUCKING HER, its deeper thrusts lifting the helpless girl clean off the floor.
"Wow," was all Roger could say.
Seizing this perfect moment, WhoreShocker charged in, prod at the ready, and delivered his characteristic 20,000 volt shock right on Angela's clit. She spasmed about for a few seconds as the power was blasted into her, her auburn hair standing on end, her eyes bulging, teeth gritting. Then she went more or less limp, save for the movement caused by the repeated thrashing of her bottom and breast, and Nipple-Crippler's enthusiastic tugging of her teat.
"Please, no more," she managed to murmur, clutching at the pole in her pussy and struggling to get a foothold in those damn heels. With an almighty effort she lifted herself off the now-glistening pole with a wet, sucking sound. and staggered backwards. NippleCrippler collided with SlutBreaker and lost his grip on her agonized nip, which came loose looking like it had been crushed in a mangle. BitchBeater continued to aim blow at Angela's soft thighs as she teetered away.
VOOOSH! The flames again, shooting up between the poor girl's legs and setting light to her gusset. Angela screamed and yanked the flaming fragment of bikini away, leaving herself totally nude except for shoes, earpiece and microphone.
THUMP! NippleCrippler charged into Angela at gut level, winding her and knocking her down so she sprawled on top of the robot. It was now driving around with a naked girl laid across it. To continue this highly desirable situation, the robot groped around with its pincer and by extreme good luck, was able to catch hold of Angela's right bosom, the one which had not previously been pinched but had been whipped about thirty times with a steel aerial. Angela no longer had the strength to scream, but this was the worst pain yet.
But not for long. Sprawled over the buzzing robot, ass on display, Angela saw to her horror that SlutBreaker was aiming his dildo-drill at her again. NippleCrippler cooperated fully in the assault, turning so that Angela's ass was pointed right at the rampant robot. NippleCrippler raced towards SlutBreaker, bearing his delicious, ravishable passenger, her sensitive parts helplessly exposed. SlutBreaker raced towards NippleCrippler, his rampant weapon aimed directly at her sensitive regions.
The robots collided with a smash, but not before SlutBreaker's proud weapon, as thick as a Coke can, dotted with raised bolts, and totally un-lubed, rammed into poor Angela's helpless asshole. Six inches of cold steel buried themselves from view between her throbbing buttocks. And even though Angela lacked the strength to scream when her nipple was being ground between steel pincers, she found the strength to scream now.
NippleCrippler has to hang on tight to Angela' titty when SlutBreaker began pounding his weapon in and out of Angela's tortured hole, rotating at speed, alternating with pummeling fast in-out thrusts. Angela's ass was being definitively reamed.
BitchBeater did his part too, slapping Angela's tits with his spinning belt. Now that she was trapped, he could keep this up indefinitely, his powerful whacks almost but not quite slapping her tit free of the crushing pincers -- instead, each blow merely jolted her breast and gave the nipple an additional painful stretching yank.
And then WhoreShocker had to get in on the act. Levelling his cattle prod like a jouster's lance, he sprung forward, and Angela gasped as her other hole was filled by another robotic extremity.
"Oh dear. Angela?" said Roger. "WhoreShocker is just charging up. He isn't able to deliver his usual electric shock just yet, but he will in about ten seconds. Nine. Eight..."
"Do something!" sobbed Angela over the leathery WHAPPING of her tits.
"Seven. Six. I'm sorry, the house robots have become self-aware, we can't control them. Four. Three... But if it's any consolation, this is fucking amazing television. One. Zero."
Angela awoke in a hospital bed. She was swathed in bandaged, except for some reason for her breasts, buttocks and pussy, They were very red and puffy, striped with whipmarks, but not seriously damaged, as far as she could see. There were bright lights. Cameras?
"You're awake? Great!" said Roger, emerging from the glare. The doctor said you were very lucky. No serious damage, though he's keeping your most tender spots naked so the special healing gel can work.
Angela tried to cover herself, but her wrists were bandaged to the headboard, her ankles to the foot of the bed. Cameras nosed in, getting intimate views of her embarrassed faces, her jiggling breasts, her parted thighs and pouting pussy.
"It was pretty spectacular. WhoreShocker's cattle prod went off right up your snatch and short-circuited most of the other robots. NippleCrippler burst into flames, and you'd have been cooked for sure, since he wasn't about to let go of your tit. But BitchBeater smacked you so hard your nipple came free of the pincer, and when SlutBreaker exploded you were thrown clear onto the flame grill. You weren't there long enough to get toasted because BitchBeater came after you and thrashed your pussy a few times, pushing you clear -- then he went after you into the flames and we blew up as well. It was an amazing climax, if you'll pardon the expression. I believe you did actually orgasm when WhoreShocker zapped you in the snatch. Something to do with 20,000 volts straight to the G-spot. The audience loved it."
"The show got amazing ratings, I can tell you. You're going to be a very popular girl as soon as you're, ah, released. You realize you're contractually bound to five more appearances? We have a great bunch of robots lined up and they can't wait to, ah, meet you. Now, to celebrate this great moment in Robot Warriors history, I have a special Robot Warriors award for the show's best fleshwad -- that's what the robots call humans, you know. Especially female humans. Now you don't really have any clothes to pin this to, so in the spirit of the award..."
Roger took hold of Angela's left tit, which she abruptly realized was still very tender, as his fingers firmly gripped and palpated the succulent flesh. Roger then drove the pin of the medal into Angela's tit, to the delight of millions of live viewers.
"Now, I also have this Purple Heart Award -- excuse me, it says Purple Pussy Award, for best robot rape victim. You really did get a sound fucking in there, Angela. We debated where I should pin this, and agreed that it could serve as an excellent clitoral piercing for you.
Angela was already screaming as he took hold of her aching clit between finger and thumb and pressed the point of the long pin against her hood...
"Besides," said Roger with a cheeky smile, "It gives Jim our cameraman the perfect excuse to film a great, big, juicy closeup of your cunt."