Chapter 83: Before Trial 7
The morning sun was a liar. It painted the lagoon in cheerful shades of turquoise and gold, a stark contrast to the raw, bruised feeling humming through the camp. Briv watched the light dance on the water, but all he could see was the phantom image of Dariana walking out of Cabin 6 at dawn, her movements fluid and unashamed, followed by Kofi’s imposing, silent form. The air still felt charged from whatever had happened in there.
Alya stood a few feet away, arms crossed tightly over her small breasts. She hadn’t looked at him once since they’d gathered on the beach. Her gaze was fixed on the production crew setting up a large screen next to Chris McLean.
“Rise and shine, tempters!” Chris’s voice cut through the salt-tinged air, amplified and unnaturally bright. He stood before them in a crisp linen shirt, looking like he’d just stepped out of a resort brochure. “Time for a little reality check. See how you’re really stacking up.”
The screen flickered to life. A collective tension seized the group, a silent intake of breath. The list appeared, stark white text on a blue background.
1ST - JOAQUIN - 68P
A ripple went through the crowd. Joaquin, standing near the back, puffed out his chest, a smug, practiced smile spreading under his trimmed beard. He gave a mock-humble shrug that fooled no one.
2ND - DARIANA - 62P
Briv felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. There it was. Confirmation. Dariana’s score had skyrocketed. Her alliance with Kofi, whatever form it had taken last night, was already paying off. She didn't react, just stared at the screen with the same focused intensity she’d used to scale the wall in the challenge.
3RD - ELENA, ALYA - 55P
Alya’s posture softened slightly. Third. It was good. Solid. Briv risked a glance at her. Her jaw was still set, but a flicker of relief crossed her features. Elena, beside her, smiled warmly and squeezed Alya’s arm. “See? We’re a team.”
4TH - NICOLETA - 51P
5TH - THOMAS - 44P
Then, his own name.
6TH - BRIV - 43P
Sixth. He was in the top half, but it felt like a loss. He was behind Thomas, the guy who listened to women with a tilted head and soft eyes just to get into their pants. The number 43 seemed to mock him.
7TH - RAZE - 37P
8TH - BIANCA, KOFI - 36P
Kofi’s name appearing so low, tied with the kind-eyed Bianca, sent another, more confusing jolt through Briv. So the power move in the cabin hadn’t translated to points. Not directly. It was about something else.
9TH - REVAN - 35P
Revan scoffed loudly. “Thirty-five? Bullshit. I carried that challenge.” He shot a dark look at Kofi, who ignored him completely.
10TH - NASEER - 32P
11TH - DILETTA, VALENTINA - 31P
12TH - FATIMA - 29P
13TH - JIM - 28P
14TH - PATRICIA - 27P
15TH - EMILIA - 24P
16TH - LOGAN - 23P
17TH - ANDRE - 22P
18TH - KIM - 21P
Kim’s smile was frozen in place, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He had watched the entire previous night’s drama from his bunk, and it had earned him nothing. He was near the bottom.
19TH - CARMEN - 19P
20TH - SEAN - 12P
21ST - NICOLA - 11P
At the very bottom, Nicola stared at her name, her face pale. Carmen, just above her, wrapped a long arm around her friend’s shoulders, her usual prom-queen brightness dimmed.
“There you have it, folks!” Chris announced, spreading his hands. “Some of you are riding high. Others… well, let’s just say you’ve got some work to do. Remember, the bottom five at the next elimination are goners. Poof. Back to your boring, non-televised lives.”
The group dissolved into a low murmur of anxious conversations. Joaquin was immediately surrounded by a cluster of women—Fatima, Patricia, Valentina—all laughing a little too brightly at his jokes.
Briv found his feet moving him toward Alya. He had to say something. The silence between them was a wall, and every second it was getting thicker.
“Alya,” he started, his voice coming out rough.
She turned, her brown eyes guarded. “Don’t, Briv.”
“I just… sixth. It’s not bad, right?”
“It’s fine.” She looked past him, toward where Thomas was now talking to Bianca, his body language oozing fake sympathy. “It’s all just a game, isn’t it?”
“It doesn’t have to be.” He reached for her hand, but she shifted her weight, pulling it just out of reach.
“What happened in Cabin 6 last night?” she asked abruptly, her gaze finally locking with his. It was direct, challenging.
He flinched. “I don’t know. Nothing good.”
“Dariana’s in second place. She did something right.” Alya’s voice was flat. “Maybe I should be taking notes.”
The comment hit him like a physical blow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m here to win, too, Briv. I’m not just here to be your loyal ex-girlfriend, watching you sulk because another guy is more aggressive than you.” The words were sharp, practiced. She’d been thinking them for a while.
Before he could form a response, a commotion erupted near the water’s edge. Revan had gotten in Kofi’s face.
“You think you’re the king because she let you hit?” Revan snarled, his voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “You didn’t earn those points. I did the work in the challenge.”
Kofi looked down at him, his expression one of pure, unimpressed boredom. “You talk too much.” He made to move past him.
Revan shoved him. It wasn’t a hard shove, but it was a declaration. “You don’t get to ignore me. We saw. We all saw you. Big man.”
In a movement so fast it was a blur, Kofi’s hand shot out and clamped around Revan’s throat. He didn’t squeeze, just held him there, immobile. The chatter on the beach died instantly.
“You saw what I allowed you to see,” Kofi said, his voice low and deadly calm. “You are a gnat. An annoyance. You stood and watched because that is your role. Remember it.”
He released him with a slight push. Revan stumbled back, gasping, his face mottled with rage and humiliation. He looked around, desperate for an ally, but found only averted eyes. Kim was studying his nails. Dariana watched from a distance, her arms crossed, a faint, unreadable smile on her lips.
The hierarchy wasn’t just about points. It was being enforced right here, in the sand.
Briv watched it all, the confrontation, the submission, and felt a cold clarity wash over him. Alya was right. This wasn’t about their past relationship. It was about the game happening right now. He looked at Joaquin, holding court. He looked at Kofi, dominating through sheer force. He looked at Thomas, manipulating with kindness.
He was playing a different, losing game.
Alya followed his gaze, taking in the same scene. “See?” she said softly, her anger momentarily replaced by a weary resignation. “That’s how you win.”
She turned and walked away, joining Elena and a now-smiling Nicola, leaving Briv alone on the beach. The sun felt hot on his skin. The numbers on the screen burned behind his eyes. Sixth place. He balled his hands into fists, the grains of sand grinding between his fingers. The game had just changed, and he was finally, painfully, starting to understand the rules.
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The game had just changed, and he was finally, painfully, starting to understand the rules. The numbers on the screen weren’t just points; they were a brutal ledger of social maneuvering and raw physical assertion. Briv’s sixth place felt like a lie he’d been telling himself, a comfortable fiction shattered by Kofi’s hands on Revan’s throat and Dariana’s cool, calculating gaze.
“Alright, enough gawking at the scoreboard!” Chris’s voice boomed, cutting through the simmering tensions. He strode back to the center of the group, his smile a sharp, gleaming thing. “You’ve seen where you stand. Now let’s see what you’re made of. It’s time for Trial Seven!”
A low, mechanical whirring sound emanated from behind a partitioned area of the beach as the crew wheeled out two strange, chair-like apparatuses. They were sleek, white, and clinical, with an array of touchscreens mounted on adjustable arms and a prominent, sinister-looking mechanical armature folded at the center.
“You’ll be paired in teams of two—a man and a woman,” Chris announced, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Each team will compete against another team, in an eliminatory match. Each member of the team will play a duel.”
He let the suspense hang in the salt air for a moment, watching the confusion and dawning apprehension on their faces.
“First, the ladies will have to compete in the Orgasm Test,” he continued, gesturing flamboyantly towards the chairs. “The men from the opponent team will try to make the opponent ladies cum before their partner, as the women will be fucked by a robotic dick.”
A collective, sharp intake of breath was followed by a beat of stunned silence.
“The opponent man will adjust the speed, power, senses, etc.,” Chris went on, as if explaining the rules of a children’s board game. “You’ll understand better when we start playing, so… get ready!”
The silence broke into a cacophony of reactions. Jim’s mouth fell open, his eyes wide with a porn-addict’s dream come true. Joaquin grinned, cracking his knuckles. “Now this is a game I can win,” he muttered to Naseer, who gave a curt, approving nod.
“You cannot be serious,” Bianca whispered, her face pale. “That’s… that’s invasive.”
“It’s just a machine, cariña,” Joaquin said with a dismissive wave. “Nothing to be scared of.”
Alya felt a cold wave of nausea. She looked at Briv, whose expression was a tangled knot of horror and a strange, competitive flicker. This was the game. This was what Dariana had understood last night—that every boundary was just an obstacle to be dismantled for points.
“I’m not doing that,” Nicola said firmly, her arms crossed over her chest. “No way.”
“Then you’ll be eliminated, sweetheart,” Chris said, not unkindly, but with finality. “Bottom five. Remember? The rules are the rules.”
Revan was already elbowing Kofi. “You hear that? I get to control the machine on your girl. Hope she’s ready for a rough ride.”
Kofi didn’t even look at him. His eyes were fixed on Dariana, a silent question passing between them. She gave a single, almost imperceptible nod. She was ready. She would use this, too.
Briv watched their exchange and felt something harden inside him. The insecurity, the jealousy, it was a luxury he could no longer afford. Alya was looking at the machine with terrified eyes, and every other man here saw her as a score, a object to be manipulated into climax for points.