I’m really bummed that Breanna isn’t here with me anymore. She was right. She wound up being eliminated by the votes that the viewers cast less than an hour ago. I practically begged Josh to let her stay in one of the empty offices in the building, just so I could have someone to talk to. But he said he’d totally lose his job. He did offer to let Brea stay at his house until the contest is over, so I know there’s something going on between them. Or will be very soon.

I’m just not like these other girls here, though. They’re all also chatty and the conversations I overhear sound so fake. Plus they’re all really catty with each other. The more I listen to them, the more I don’t want to have anything to do with any of them, so I just keep to myself.

Now that the majority of them have thinned out I have noticed one girl here that I’d actually talk to. I think her name is Zoe. She keeps to herself, like me, and she doesn’t seem as shallow as the rest. But I’m just too exhausted from all of the anxiety that I can’t even fathom attempting to strike up a conversation with a stranger. Even if she does have a sweet smile.

I go in to take a shower so I can have at least a little bit of time alone, but forget until I’m in there that there are cameras in the showers. I hear a bunch of giggling and talking in one of the shower stalls as I’m shutting the curtain to mine.

“Do these cameras have audio?” I hear one girl say.

“It doesn’t matter, Tricia. Just suck on my nipples while I finger myself. That should get us both some votes.”

It hadn’t even occurred to me to try to get votes outside of the competition events, but I guess it makes sense. Some of these girls look like they would do literally anything to win. I seriously don’t feel like putting on a show, especially since Brea is gone and I have absolutely no idea what my score is. I doubt I’m going to win this contest. I’m seriously surprised that I didn’t get eliminated tonight.

I get into the shower and put soap all over my body. I know that there’s a camera on me but I just pretend it isn’t and take a normal shower. No soaping up my butt crack for the camera or bouncing my boobs like I hear the other girls saying. I stand there and let the hot water beat down on my head and run down my body for a long time before I get out. I’m dreading going back into the main room.

As I come out of the bathroom and cross the gym, one of the doors to a confessional room opens up and three girls pile out. They act like they’ve been caught, but I couldn’t care less. And when they see me they giggle like they have some hilarious private secret. All they’re doing is the same thing the girls in the shower were doing. A private show for the voters. That and making it clear that I’m not welcome in their private joke. I walk past them and get in bed. I wish so badly I at least had my phone so I could text Brea. I want to know what’s going on with her and Josh.

I lay in bed and listen to the girls around me talking, and when I hear what they’re saying I start to feel that I’m here for totally different reasons. The other girls all seem to be mostly concerned with how their hair and makeup and bodies look while they were streaming. They also all seem to be obsessed with how popular they are. There’s no way for any of us to watch the stream and see how many votes each girl has received, and it really seems to be driving most of them crazy.

I honestly don’t care about any of that. I mean, I am here for the money. I definitely need to come up with a lot before I can find a place to live and continue with college. But having my image broadcast all over the internet does nothing for me. I don’t want to be the most popular girl. I don’t want to be famous. I don’t want anyone to ever stop me on the street and ask for my autograph or say they know who I am. It’s not something I’ve ever had any interest in.

The only reason I’m even remotely enjoying being watched by thousands of men is because it makes me feel really … well, naughty. After all the anxiety it has caused me throughout my life, I never in a million years would’ve thought that being watched would turn me on as much as it does. But it’s not just that. The humiliation I feel about being turned on by being watched? It turns me on even more. And that makes me feel even more fucked up. But as it turns out, when it comes to performing something sexual in front of people, being on stage is one of my kinks.

But the real reason I’m here. The whole thing that made me want to do this to begin with, is that I want to figure myself out. And I feel like that is what has been happening. I’m actually really excited to find out what the next events are. I’m excited by the thought of performing really nasty, filthy sex acts on camera and having it broadcast all over the world. No one will know who I am. I will be able to be a total slut for thousands of guys and it will all be completely anonymous. That thought alone makes me feel like a really bad girl. And I absolutely love that feeling.

* * *

When I wake up on the second day, Josh comes into the room and tells us that there are thirty-five girls left and that the first event today will be a stripper pole competition. He says that we each get fifteen minutes to perform. There will be a pole for us to use and we are free to incorporate any props into our performance that we would like. He tells us that there are a variety of dildos available, and that we will each be wearing a bluetooth vibrator inside us during our performance. He explains that the vibrator will be connected to the voting system, and each time someone votes for us there will be a sound that the vibrator will pick up and the vibration will increase. He says that we will all know how well we’re doing based on the vibrator, but he also said that based on feedback they got yesterday they also implemented an applause app that will let the girls know how they’re doing.

I’m really glad to hear that they took Brea’s suggestion. That means that we aren’t just cattle they’re using to make money. They actually care about how this experience is working for us. I really want to know who these Lamborghini-driving pilots are that are running this whole thing. I can’t imagine that I’ll find out, though.

I didn’t bring any props with me and I don’t particularly want to use any. I don’t know if I’m coordinated enough to dance around a pole and stick a dildo inside myself at the same time. Especially since one of my holes is already going to be taken by a vibrator.

I figure I don’t have anything to lose at this point. I’ve made it this far by doing my own thing, and that’s the best I can do. I put on a very skimpy g-string and a lacy black bra that I brought with me. Over that I wear an short, red miniskirt that zips completely open, and a black, see-through shirt that will be easy to unbutton while I’m dancing around. I’m going for practicality over sex appeal because I’d much rather get my clothes off quickly than fall over while I’m trying to dance around in high heels and get undressed.

I’m still number thirty-five, but because a bunch of girls before me have been eliminated from the competition, I’m sixth in line. With each girl dancing for fifteen minutes, that still leaves over an hour for me to wait for my turn. We’re all inside the room this time instead of waiting out in the hall. I’m finding that I’m not as nervous to go out on the stage this time. I’ve been watching all the girls and I’ve been listening to the music and I know I can do this. Plus, now that I know how good it feels to be on camera, I’m not as scared. And even though there are some girls here who are obviously professional strippers and cam girls, there are also some like me who don’t have any experience. So while I look around the room and watch each girl take her fifteen minutes, I actually don’t feel quite so inadequate.

Just before my turn comes to go up on stage, I see the door that leads out to the hallway open. It’s dark on that side of the room but I can see two men there, both wearing the ski masks that I’ve seen Josh and the other guys wear when they’re in the stage area. I guess none of them wants to be recognized either. I put my own mask on, but today they gave us thin black fabric that just covers our eyes. I’m glad because the full-face masks we wore yesterday got hot fast.

When I walk into the spotlight, I’m relieved that the song that’s playing, Get Low, is a song that I’ve danced to hundreds of times. It’s got a great, eastern rhythm that I can gyrate my hips to while I slide around the pole. As soon as I start moving to the music, my body feels free again. I can feel the music moving through me every time I twirl around or flip my hair. I don’t try to force myself to perform any of the classic stripper moves that all the other girls have been doing. I just grab the pole and slide around it slowly, then gyrate my hips while I pull my shirt off.

While I unzip my skirt, I do my own thing. I’m not even worried now about how I compare to the other girls anymore. When my skirt is on the floor, I grab the pole with both hands and slide my body up and down the slick, metal surface to the beat of the music.

I’m pretty limber, and when I’ve stripped down to my g-string and bra, I bend forward so that my head is down near my calves, then I swing one of my legs up in the air while I hold onto the pole. I can feel the air rush in and tickle my pussy. It’s the most amazing feeling and I get a crazy urge to flip both my legs forward and do a summersault while I’m holding myself up with the pole, and I’m stunned when I land on my feet. I use the pole to bring the upper half of my body back up and, next thing I know, I’m standing upright again.

I almost scream out loud at the sensation inside me as the vibrator revs up to what I feel has to be full blast. I’ve been feeling the vibrations and I’ve been hearing the applause all through my turn at the pole, but suddenly the intensity has shot way up. My mouth is open and I’m biting on my lower lip, trying to fight back the urge to touch my clit. I dance through Skwod by Nadia Rose just fine, but then I hear the intro to Acrilycs by TNGHT mixed in. It’s one of my all time favorite songs and I’m even more amazed that it is playing during my turn. The song is chaotic and intense, with a slow, sexy base and it builds up to a peak that always gives me tingles when I’m dancing to it alone. I grind and gyrate to the beat and spin around the pole while the vibrator inside me buzzes stronger and stronger.

My bra and my g-string are already long gone and I’m naked except for the thin black mask that covers my eyes. I’m dancing just like I do when I’m all alone in my apartment, except for the complete lack of clothes and the fact that there are thousands of people watching me. When the song starts to build to the peak and the vibrations inside me intensify, I can’t control myself any longer. I brace myself against the pole and reach my hands between my legs. My legs spread wider and wider as I lower my ass to the floor and I circle my clit around and around to the beat of the music.

I’m not even thinking, I’m just feeling the waves of music and pleasure pump throughout my body while I make myself come for the camera and the thousands of people who are watching me.

The vibrator inside me is buzzing like crazy and the music is peaking and my orgasm comes crashing through me like a freight train. I gyrate my hips into my hand and arch my back while I hold onto the pole with my other hand, then let myself fall backward. I have never experienced anything like this in my life. But I know for a fact that a huge part of the intensity I’m feeling has to do with knowing that I’m being watched. I’m sure that the two men that came into the room are the producers—the Daddies—and they’re the men who will be making the final decision. The men who will be fucking the winners live, in front of thousands of people. And as my orgasm floods through me, I imagine that I’m one of the winners. I’m one of the girls they’re fucking.

The vibrations just keep coming, so I sit up and pull the vibrator out before my set is even over, but I don’t think anyone has even noticed. As soon as I pick up my clothes and leave the spotlight, another girl takes my place, ripping her shirt off in a very dramatic way as she stalks up to the pole. I get dressed and find a seat, then look across the room and notice that the two men are gone. I want so badly to know who they are and what they look like. I keep thinking about the voice that I heard through the speaker during my audition, and how deeply it affected me. I swear I could come again right now just thinking about the way he said my name.

But instead, I sit there and watch the rest of the girls perform, taking breaks here and there to eat and use the bathroom. There’s nothing else to do here but watch the show, so that’s what I do.

The elimination round is fairly quick this time, and there are only fifteen of us who move on. The rest are told to collect their things and are escorted out. I seriously can’t believe I’m still in the running. There were so many other girls dancing that I was sure were going to be ahead of me. Girls who had bigger boobs and were more skilled at the pole. It makes me wonder what other things the viewers and the producers are looking at.

The next event happens almost immediately. We’re told to get naked again, and all of us are put in a line. One of the men who has been around the whole time tells us what we’re going to be doing. While he’s talking, the other men tie our arms behind our backs. Before my arms are pulled behind me, I put my mask back on, then a tray is placed around my neck. The man who was explaining the competition puts a ski mask on, then goes over to a table that is filled with drink glasses.

I’m the second one in line and I feel a strong vibration between my legs as I step onto the stage. The girl in front of me has already stopped at two tables and has two full glasses balanced on her tray. As she walks away, she takes small, even steps so the tray moves as little as possible, but I can still see liquid sloshing over the rims of the glasses.

The first glass is placed on my tray and I feel the intensity of the vibrations increase inside me. I wonder how the hell I’m going to do this with the vibrator going off. All I can think about is how hard it was to keep from touching myself while I was dancing and I’m afraid I’m going to want to do the same thing soon.

But suddenly the vibrator stops buzzing. I take a few steps and still don’t feel anything and I’m worried that someone else is doing better at this event than I am. But I also don’t hear the audience applause that they added today. Except for Shots by LMFAO playing at a lower volume than the music during the dancing events, the room is silent.

I look across to the far side of the room and see the silhouette of a tall man standing in the doorway. He motions for one of the guys in a ski mask to go over to where he is. They talk for a moment, then the man at the door leaves. Within minutes the music is off and the lights in the room are up.

“What’s up?” another one of the men asks as he steps off the stage and pulls off his mask.

“We’ve got a big problem.” I realize that the man who turned on the lights is Josh. He doesn’t look happy. “The stream is down. The whole website is down. We need to untie the girls. They have no idea how long it’s going to take to get it back up.”