Too Much of a Good Thing

Too Much of a Good Thing: A Fantasy of Excess.

Chapter IV: A Bizarre Contest!

I awoke on the Sunday close to noon! This was not planned, but for some reason Angel had just left me there comatose. Mind you, I had every reason to be! After surviving a full day with six teenagers and a full night with Angel, a decent lie in was not entirely a luxury. This especially so, since it seemed every time I had fallen asleep during the night I awoke shortly later with my dick being worked on by a rather familiar set of teeth! And for some reason unbeknown to me --- what male has every understood the female pysche? ---- Angel had completely changed her preference. She worked my cock only long enough to make it hard enough to fuck. Then I was expected to perform with Angel in the missionary position until she came, preferably twice or thrice before I was allowed to cease my exertions and lapse back into the blessed comatose state of sleep. Not that I’m complaining, you understand! I knew this was the experience of a lifetime, and that it had to end, and that before it did I had better take maximum advantage. Still, when you’re exhausted there’s not much you can do except sleep, as mundane as this may sound when a gorgeous, all too willing chick lies next to you just waiting for the faintest sign of recovery to start out on the next fuck.

As I say, I awoke at noon, poked around in the bathroom, grabbed a cup of coffee from the coffee maker and slowly began to take cogniscence of the day. Where was everybody? I looked out over the pool area, but nobody was there and the sets of the previous day had been dismantled. Angel and I had made no explicit agreement as to what was to happen today except that we would again be auditioning, and I had naturally assumed, though now was definitely beginning to dread, ‘more of the same’. I had serious doubts about my ability to perform, as indeed, who would not? But as I found out, these fears were unfounded, largely because today was going to be entirely different and the demands on me of a wholly new and (for me!) quite bizarre nature. This I found out when Angel eventually appeared.

‘Ah!’ she said. ‘There you are. We’re downstairs today. You’re just in time!’

And with that she took my hand and led me down into the basement, which, brilliantly lit, was as bestrewn with cameras and paraphanalia as the pool had been on the previous day.

As my eye grew accustomed to the surroundings it fastened on the pasty faces of four young girls. Of waif-like appearance and milk-white skin and complexion, seemingly clones of one another, they were straddling what appeared to be padded wooden trestles. Their arms were tied loosely above their heads and their legs were splayed out on either side of the trestles, so that their full weight was carried by their groins. They seemed to be most uncomfortable, and as one squirmed in an obvious attempt to ease the stress on her vitals, I noticed with a sudden rush of shock that she was in fact impaled on a giant dildo! At that moment, a buxom figure dressed in garish red latex, including prominent thigh boots appeared from nowhere and cut the girl who had moved a fearful whack across her back with a vicious looking black handled whip.

‘Still! You are to be still!’ snapped the buxom figure, repeating the stroke with interest. The young girl tried to stifle her scream, but did not entirely succeed.

‘And quiet!’ screamed the Dom. ‘I want quiet. Show me that you can be quiet!’

And with that the Dom set about the young girl, cutting her again across the back, then three strokes diagonally across her tiny breasts and finally two across her flat stomach. Each stroke of the whip raised a welt, which sprang up instantly, a thin red stripe on a white background. I saw in horror that all of the girls’ bodies where criss-crossed by such stripes. With a supreme effort the girl being whipped succeeded in suppressing her screams, which, however, rang out loud and clear in my head nevertheless.

I accosted Angel instantly. ‘What is this!?” I urged. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Shh!’ Angel replied and drew me over into a corner to explain.

It seemed that ‘Milton’, this being the guy for whom she had agreed to do the auditions, had decided to change the script on her and had sent up candidates for the ‘sub’ role in an S&M movie he was planning to make. I mean, I hardly knew what an S&M movie was, but this foretaste alone was quite enough and, of course, I was horrified and immediately made it clear to Angel that this was not something I was going to be a party to.

‘Don’t be so hasty,’ was her reply. ‘The girls are here voluntarily. They are genuine ‘subs’.’

She explained that ‘subs’ get their kicks by being subordinate to others. The clearest sign of subordination is the willingness to accept humiliation and pain so that for these girls, pain was in a very real sense pleasure. What may look to the uninitiated observer like torture, was in fact stimulation. All the while the girls where being whipped and tormented they were actually orgasming continuously in a way that non-subs simply could not emulate, no matter what the stimulation. And besides, all of the girls had their ‘safe’ word or signal, indicating they were at their limit. No-one would be hurt beyond their own personal degree of tolerance. This was an inviolate rule that all in the trade obeyed rigorously. The safe word or signal was holy. The girls all wanted the part, in the movie although they knew it would involve utter humiliation and a very high level of pain. And they had all agreed to the simple conditions Milton had laid down for the audition. The girls would receive identical treatment and the one who survived when the others had submitted by using their safe words would automatically get the part.

Well I did not entirely buy this from Angel and looked at her slightly incredulously. Could she possibly be serious? What kind of operation was this, after all? As she was speaking another of the girls was being whipped, and writhed about impinged on her massive dildo. As the girl before her she made a supreme effort to remain silent, but the final stroke, cut diagonally across her belly was too much for her and she let out a shrill cry, which she stifled almost as soon as it was out. But this was too much for the Dom. The girl was lifted off her dildo --- my eyes almost popped out at the size of it, measured against that diminutive frame ---- and dragged across the floor to a bench, where she was made to lie down with her legs splayed, exposing fully her cunt with its still stretched labial lips.

‘Looks like you’re on!’ said Angel to me, as the Dom beckoned.

‘You’re kidding!’ I exclaimed. ‘I can’t do this! This is not my bag at all!’

‘Think of it as a new experience,’ Angel said calmly. ‘And by the way, Milton agreed to double our take for an S&M audition.’

‘You surely don’t think I’m going to get involved with this whatever the money!’ I said heatedly.

‘Well someone will,’ was Angel’s calm reply. ‘Clint is waiting in the car and I’m sure he’d give his eye teeth to take your place. He’s got a twelve inch dick the width of a baseball bat. You want him let loose on the girls?’

So there it was. A fait accompli. I had let myself in for it and now I had to go through with it, whatever ‘it’ was. In trepidation, I stepped forward to where the girl lay spread-eagled on he bench. The Dom had inserted the handle of her whip between the girls cunt lips and now pushed it fully home.

‘Can you imagine’, she said to me in mock irony. ‘A tramp like this can’t keep her mouth shut. Let’s give her something to help her, shall we.’

And so saying, the Dom dropped to her knees, took my limp cock and worked it viciously to attention. She paused.

‘Hmmm! Not much meat there,’ she said as if talking to herself. ‘But maybe enough, let’s see.’

And with that she led me by my dick around the bench, to where the helpless girl’s head hung down. Then with no finesse whatsoever, she shoved me into the girl’s mouth and deep down her throat, to the hilt, pressing the girl’s neck back against the side of the bench. Deep cock indeed! I became aware that the girl was sucking as vigorously as she possibly could and soon the reason was clear. The Dom had returned to retrieve her whip out of the girl’s cunt and in a trice the first stroke fell. It struck the inside of the girl’s left thigh leaving a weal whose upper edge was clearly visible to me as I watched on in horror but, I had to admit, increasing fascination too. I now was sharing the pain as with each stroke the girl bit harder and harder on her gag, my fully swollen member! Between strokes, the Dom would circle the girl’s cunt with the whip handle, or playfully draw the thong along the length of her slit.

‘How moist you are my dear,’ said the Dom admiringly. ‘That’s good. You’ll need that presently.’

And so saying she would make another vicious cut across the young girl’s naked thigh. Five strokes in all on each, every stroke approaching nearer to the holy of holies. Every second stroke, the Dom peered over the bench to watch the girl work on my cock.

‘Still not come?’ she would say. ‘My oh my. We’ll just have to supply a little more encouragement then won’t we.’

The next five cuts ran diagonally from right to left across those cherry red, swollen labial lips. I could feel the girl’s screams on my cock, hazard only a vague guess at the pain each stroke must have caused her. Her entire body would go stiff as each stroke landed and she would elevate herself from the bench for seconds before falling back. The Dom would wait, one, two, three, maybe up to ten seconds before landing the next stroke, each one more vicious than its predecessor. I tried as hard as I could to come, thinking this would put an end to the girl’s agony. But my long night with Angel had left me dry, void. I could erect, but could not come. And so the agony continued. Five more strokes across the cunt, this time from the other side, diagonally from left to right, criss crossing the previous five so the girl’s labial lips were flayed from both sides.

Still the girl resisted. I could feel her crying now with my cock deep within her throat. Her control was beginning to weaken. Yet she held on tight. She did not succumb, even as those last wicked five strokes of the lash cut into her slit along its full length. Parting the lips and eating into the tender flesh of her inner vaginal walls.

Finally it was over, or at least so I thought. The Dom put down the whip, and beckoned me to release myself from the girl’s mouth. She was comatose, for all I knew unconscious. But her agony was not yet over, for no sooner had I had rounded her slumped frame than the Dom grabbed me again by the cock and led me between those white, weedy legs criss-crossed with weals to where the tortured crack glared up at me.

‘Now you get to fuck!’ said the Dom with glee. ‘Fuck her ‘til she screams for mercy!’

I was of course horrified, but too deep into it now to refuse. Besides, who knew what horrible torture the Dom would dream up for the girl if I did not comply. So gingerly, I entered the girl, who was indeed mercifully wet, and, trying to be as gentle as I could while appearing vigorous, started to fuck her. But this did not fool the Dom for a single instant.

‘Fuck her, I said! Get your dick into her. Ram her. I want to see her squirm!’ And she laid her whip across my backside with abandon.

And there was nothing to be done other than to obey. I fucked the girl for all I was worth, ramming into her and grinding her back against the bench. And wonder of wonders, what d’you think happened? All of a sudden I felt those characteristic vaginal contractions and I realized that in spite of all that had been done to her, the girl was about to orgasm. And so she did, and, although a silent one, for the fear of a repeat whipping sealed her lips as tight as tight could be, it was a giant inside! I knew, I could feel it.

The Dom watched in scorn. Nothing escaped her.

‘Look at the tramp!’ she said. ‘Coming like a two-bit whore.’

And so saying, she folded her arms in disapproval and stomped off.

And I was obliged to repeat this procedure three times more on the other girls. Not to the end, fortunately for me, because two of the girls simply could not stay the course and gave their secret signal of submission. One lasted almost to the end, succumbing only on the third to last cut along her open crack. I was still deep inside her throat and I could feel her agony and sense that she could not go even a few strokes further. She was at the end of her tether. The other girl gave in almost immediately the Dom started to cross-lash her cunt. I guess it was a matter of sensitivity. The girl may have had some experience with cunt whippings, but what the Dom was handing out was surely special. Not even practiced subs, I thought, could have experienced this.

The final girl, however, got through with aplomb, at least she seemed to experience less pain than the first one. Even the last five brutal strokes lengthways along the entire length of her vaginal slit did not bring her close to submission. The Dom was obviously expert at this and had a technique whereby the first stroke would land exactly between the girl’s pussy lips, spreading them slightly. The second and third strokes would then land slightly to one side, parting the lips further and opening the girl so that the fourth and fifth strokes landed on the unprotected inner walls of the vagina. I could not imagine what the level of the pain would be, let alone how the girls could withstand it.

As before I was required to follow up the cunt whipping with a fuck and this time it was a serious affair. This girl was not about to come.

‘Harder, Master’, she could whisper in a husky voice. ‘Fuck me harder!’

And I would step up the pace and grind with even greater force into the girls’s swollen cunt. Then,

‘Harder, Master, Fuck me harder!!”

And so on until I was myself at the end of my tether. By now the Dom was fully aroused. She had unzipped her latex suit revealing large pendulous breasts with extended areolas and long, hard nipples with which she played.

‘Fuck that girl!’ she demanded, and as I was obviously beginning to flag, she decided to help me along by cracking me across the backside with her whip. Even the first stroke hurt, and by the time she was up to five there was no stopping here.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…..’ she screamed, punctuating each expletive with a fresh crack of her leather thong, each more vicious than its predecessor. Anxiously I looked at the girl for signs of an impending orgasm, but to no avail. She just looked up at me with her cow eyes and said ‘Harder, Master, harder. Fuck me harder!!’ And so it became a matter of self-preservation that I should end this myself which, mercifully, occurred before my ass was cut to ribbons. I pulled away and with a great exhalation of breath spewed cum all over that ruby red and glistening cunt before me.

The Dom was clearly quite taken with the scene.

‘Myohmy,’ she sighed. ‘The stud can’t keep it up. Ohwell! There’s always later!?’

At which she turned and stomped away, her boot heels clicking on the floor of the cellar room. I looked down at the now comatose figure of the girl, white limp body criss-crossed from top to bottom with angry red stripes culminating in a dense mesh across the inner parts of her thighs and across her entire vaginal area. The red of her cunt was now spotted with my milky white come and I remember reflecting that this seemed to me at the time, quite paradoxically, the most erotic vision I had ever encountered. Obviously, I had got used quite effectively to the notion of pleasure and pain, to the point of having even participated actively myself, as the weals across my backside reminded me. I had certainly not protested when the Dom did this to me, nor even minded. In fact, I knew inside myself that the beating, however short and mild, had served to excite me to the point of orgasm. I remember thinking there and then that I had to get hold of myself. This was exciting me too much. I was becoming accustomed to the coupling of sexual pleasure with the inflicting of pain, even though it was not I who was doing the inflicting. It was exciting me more and more nevertheless. I remember thinking that one day not so very far away I would have to return to my former life as an accountant, going home every evening to a lonely apartment to eat a TV dinner in front of the tube. How would I manage to find and keep a girlfriend if secretly my earnest desire was to see her tied to a post, royally laced with weal marks and viciously cunt-whipped?

Angel appeared and took me by the arm.

‘You survived, I see,’ she said with only the faintest trace of sarcasm.

‘Angel, I don’t like this,’ I said to her urgently. ‘I agree I got excited. I did find the whipping of the girls a turn-on. I won’t deny it. I even didn’t mind when she whipped me. But this shouldn’t go on. It’s not good for me. Get me out of here!’

But Angel just smiled sweetly.

‘Not to worry,’ she said. ‘You’re doing fine. We’re down to two and Tracy will soon finish off one or other of them off. She may not need you at all any more. Hang in there. We’ll soon be alone together…… And besides, I wouldn’t like to think what Clint would do to those poor girls if he got let loose now after he’s been jerking off all day out there in the hot sun. Take a break. Use the pool. Relax a bit.’

And what could I say. I should have put my foot down and just left. But then I would never have known what Tracy did to the girls next, nor which of these would crack first. I have to be honest and admit to a certain fascination with the whole scenario. I don’t know. Maybe I really am a sadist at heart?

I went out to the pool and did a couple of laps to clear my head and get the musk of the cellar out of my skin and hair. The warm California sun smoothened out the wrinkles in my brain and calmed me. I lay on my chaise longue with my eyes closed, hoping that I would not need to return to the scene in the cellar, but nevertheless becoming more and more curious as to what was happening down there. And in the end, I have to admit, it was the curiosity that got the better of me. I persuaded myself that it was concern for the girls that drove me down there, but this is not the truth. I knew Tracy was torturing them and I wanted to see it. That’s the honest truth, and if you judge me harshly all I can say is, beware you ever get yourself into a similar situation!

As I arrived in the cellar and my eyes accustomed themselves to the light I saw that the two girls were back on their trestles impaled on their dildos. Angel was sitting on a chair in the corner cradling her camera, but Tracy was nowhere to be seen.

‘What happens next?’ I asked Angel, who just shrugged.

Presently, Tracy appeared carrying a large plastic receptacle. She placed the receptacle on a table and beckoned me to help her lift the girls off their dildos and to deposit them on low, narrow benches that had been set out, each facing directly into a camera. The benches were like those one encounters in sports’ changing rooms, but were padded in strategic locations, most noticeably beneath the girls’ rumps, which were slightly elevated. Tracy tied the girls’ wrists and ankles loosely to rings placed at strategic positions. Their hands brushed the floor below their waists and their legs were drawn straight upwards, spread wide and oriented slightly backwards, with the aid of ropes arranged around pulleys. Tracy adjusted the pulleys and the ropes until the splay of the girls’ legs left their groins and vaginas exposed, stretched, vulnerable, and directly in view of the cameras. She admired her handiwork.