Falgon, the creator of the Pleasure Cult had designed the 5 stages of a Pleasure Cult Pledge: examination, submission, exhibition, domination and control. The stages were not clearly defined nor easily navigated. Instead, the entire time a cadet was a pledge he could be moved from one stage to another at the whim of any full member. A pledge could be sent to boot camp as often as the event brought the members pleasure.
Falgon smiled at the thought of Christine, a slight young thing determined to become a full member. Christine had been to the boot camp 12 times. She had once made it as close as control, but then was down graded to examination by an attendant displeased with her pubic hair. That night, back in the examination room with 12 men plunging their fingers into her for hours ("to exam her" and the "re-exam her") Christine had said the first half of the disillusionment sentence. "I recant my desire to pledge as a mem-" but she stopped. Had she simply finished the word, and completed the sentence with her full name, she would have been unbound, taken to the locker room in silence and given her clothes. But she knew that becoming a full member would grant her access to pleasures unfathomable. She completed the exam and fell asleep naked in the stirrups.
Other Cadets had quit. Once dressed, the wimps were blindfolded and handcuffed, paraded through the member's lounge to be verbally ridiculed and then placed in the back of a mini van. The location was a secret. To achieve the greatest humiliation, the loser was dropped off, without his knowledge, in front of the police station. They were told the Vaseline on their eyelids would burn like hell if they did not wait a full 5 minutes before removing the blindfold. It wasn't true, of course, but the sorry bastards were so beaten down they would believe anything.
Tonight Falgon had his eyes on a new pledge, a female named Red. She was completing the examination period with what Flagon personally saw as the most humiliating part of the process. Red was on her hands and knees on a padded table. Her female assistant was taking her rectal measurements. The process was a tedious, pointless exercise in humiliation. Falgon had designed the devise himself: a silicon ramrod, hollow from end to end. It did not taper or change shape: it was an inch around. For these anal virgins it felt like a fist. Once the ramrod was inserted a half inch or so, the trainers would slide a slimmer ramrod through the host rod and pry as deeply as possible, having their assistants write down the measurements. Once the slim rod was at its deepest reading, the host rod was forced to the same depth. The two were then removed with the haste of a slug and the process began again.
Red was resisting. Her restraints had been tightened four times, but she continued to strain against them, clinching her buttocks and pleading that a 3rd measurement would bear the same results. The measurements always bore the same results, it was part of the process of wearing the cadet down and making them feel used.
Falgon walked toward Gretchen, a new trainer, and put his arm around her. He was condescending, intimate. His fingers danced over her right nipple as he spoke, "Gretchen, having some trouble controlling your girl?" She did not respond, her rank was not one with such a privilege. Falgon put his hand on the ramrod and used the foot petal to lower the table. He crawled on top of Red, using his knees to hold her legs apart. "Tighten her straps." He commanded. The weight of the leader of the Pleasure Cult pressed down on Red. He had his left hand on the small of her back, pushing her into the table so she was almost smothering. With his left hand he deftly glided the well lubed ramrod the full 7 inches into Red's bowels. She felt her innards burn and resist the awkward intrusion for a 3rd time. She felt as though the rod would poke right out of her belly. She was skewered like a cunt shish kabob. Leaving his right hand cruelly in place, Falgon stood back up, raising the table so he could lean against it without letting the rod move as much as a millimeter. He pulled his flaccid penis out of the lose opening of his scrubs. "Get it up," he said to Gretchen. His face had hardened. He was not being condescending now. Instead, he was relishing his command.
