Chapter 7
"Scott,... Scott?,... Time to wake up."
The voice startled me from sleep, and in my groggy state I struggled to identify who was speaking. I felt safe and snug, as if wrapped in a warm blanket. I was incredibly relaxed and at peace. But as I regained my senses, that peace was replaced by sudden panic as I recognized I was surrounded by water. My body tensed, and I instinctively tried to swim. But just as quickly as fear had risen from my gut, it subsided again as I remembered the reason for my wet surroundings. I laughed at myself, relaxed, and laid back into the water. The warmth of its liquid embrace restored my sense of calm. I had never felt so good!
In fact, for the past four hours, I'd been comfortably cocooned inside my very own personal water hibernation tank. It was yet another unique feature of the bathing chamber in the lower level of the mansion. The tank was similar to those installed at high-end, health spas. They resemble space pods straight from a science fiction movie. The size is large enough to avoid causing claustrophobia, and each is fitted with specialized lighting and sound equipment to create an ideal relaxation environment. Heavily salted water fills each tank which is then maintained at exact body temperature. Floating inside the tank feels effortless. The intent is to create a watery chamber where one can achieve maximum relaxation isolated from outside stress. The experience promotes mental and physical restoration and excellent sleep. Though I'd been sleeping in the tank for roughly four hours, my body had likely received the restorative benefit equal to being asleep for twice that long.
"You're such a sleepy-head, Scott, but I suppose that just shows how well these tanks work?" I now recognized it was Cynthia speaking to me. I saw the upper half of her torso leaning into the door of the tank. She reached out and grabbed my ankles, pulling my floating form toward her. "We've got to get you out of here, groomed, fed and ready for today's events."
"Oh man, I feel like I could stay in here forever! This thing is incredible!" I groused as I awkwardly began to assist Cynthia with moving my body toward the tank door.
"Hey, remember to be careful of that harness and tubing, Scott," Cynthia said, referring to the umbilical-type contraption that was secured around my hips and encapsulated my cock. I had been sleeping so soundly, I had completely forgotten about the extra equipment. It felt natural now, but I recalled how strange it had felt to attach the harness to my body before climbing into the tank to sleep. It was an extremely unique design and difficult to describe.
The harness was like a giant adult diaper with a few specialized internal modifications. It had an internal sheath that surrounded my cock and balls. A large tube ran from the end of the sheath and merged with several umbilical cables that were attached to the waist and the rear of the harness. A small anal plug was situated in the seat of the harness that was nested perfectly inside my ass. A tube exited the rear of the plug and wound around my waist to find its place with the rest of the umbilical bundle. The whole arrangement reminded me of diving equipment, but with an entirely different purpose.
Earlier that night, Cynthia had explained the details of this elaborate contraption. Amanda's drug cocktail would not allow my body to stop producing semen even during sleep. While I slept, the volume of fluid in my body would build to unsafe levels. My glands would produce much more sperm than could be safely stored by my body. The harness and tubing functioned as a milking mechanism that worked at regular intervals during the night to draw off the excess semen and prevent injury. The butt plug provided mild, intermittent electrical charges to stimulate my prostate and promote ejaculation. The sheath around my cock was negatively pressured to create a vacuum and capture all the semen collected through this process. After entering the tank, it had taken me some time to get used to the feeling of the harness, but I found the overall sensation to be incredibly pleasurable. Before too long, I found myself relaxed, laying back into the water and enjoying myself immensely. After a few gentle orgasms, my brain had lulled itself into sleep.
Now it was time to separate myself from the harness and get on with the next day's events. Cynthia, her usual efficient self, was there to handle the details.
"Well, I suppose this should come as no surprise at this point,... but..., well..., I'm not really sure how to say this..., basically, your sperm production during the night was off the charts, Scott," Cynthia said. "I've never seen anything like it. It's solid proof that Amanda's drugs are incredibly effective, and this milker was critical for your safety. The machine pulled off at least a gallon of fluid while you slept! I'm going to say you'd probably have needed hospitalization without it. Your internal plumbing would have been permanently wrecked! I had kind of assumed, after Missy's aggressive prostate milking and your over-the-top performance at last night's final event, you'd be milked dry and really wouldn't need this harness. I guess that shows what I know!" Cynthia chuckled to herself as I climbed out of the tank to stand beside her. She handed me a towel and helped me dry my body and begin to remove the harness. As Cynthia's hands worked, my mind began to wander back to the prior night's events.
The peacefulness of the tank had mostly diluted my memory of it. But the crazy series of events that ended my first day of the Gala began to reawaken in my mind.
Last night. How could I have forgotten everything so quickly?
After my latex-fueled, prostate-milking adventure, Missy had served as my escort back to the main ballroom. When we arrived, I noticed the room had changed. The three padded tables from the first event had been replaced by large frames of metal piping. They were sturdy, rectangular, frames supporting a customized rig of strange looking metal. Each rig was composed of various bars, cross-supports, hinges, and straps that seemed to be strategically designed to hold a human body. As I looked more closely, I noticed the shape of each rig resembled the outline of a giant gingerbread man with legs slightly spread and arms extended to each side. It was crazy-looking, and I was struggling to imagine how I was going to fit into the contraption.
As Missy led me across the room, I spotted Cynthia standing by the nearest rack of pipes. "Here's our little lover boy, Cynthia," Missy quipped, "I'm turning him back over to your capable hands. He's been a very good boy and done everything I've asked of him, and then some. I trust that you will get him ready for this next event?"
Cynthia stepped forward as Missy handed her my collar chain "I'm more than happy to get Scott all locked and loaded," Cynthia said with a big smile. "And I'm also not surprised to hear he exceeded your expectations. You weren't around to see what the milker was able to pull out of Scott during the first event. He raised more than a few eyebrows with his performance."
"Well, I'm definitely not going to miss out on the fun this time." I felt a sharp smack on my ass from Missy. "You be a good little sub for, Cynthia, and I'll see you again after a bit."
