Hidden Depths

"Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss."

"I will set the timer. And to be sure you do not break the rules, you will hold the whip handle inside you for the full hour. And you must pleasure our guest thoroughly and continuously for that hour, as you have been taught."

"Yes, Miss. Thank you, Miss."

Mary took up position on the bed, raised her reddened rump and spread her thighs. The whip handle was thick and ugly and had a bulbous head. Yet there was little resistance as Angie prized Mary's pussy lips apart and slid the whip handle deep into her cunt. The wicked tails of the whip hung down between her legs. She bent her head to take the tip of my limp cock into her mouth.

Eyeing me balefully, and with a final, "Remember. Don't come," Angie swept imperiously out of the room.

No fear of that, I thought. Not this time. Hell, it would be a miracle if the damn thing came up at all.

Twenty minutes later -- I could see the timer Angie had set -- the miracle had occurred. Well and truly! Switching between a gentle steady fellatio, all lips, tongue and fingertips, and deep penetration, teeth and hard sucking, Mary had my cock up and twitching and my body jolting involuntarily. With perfect timing, she took me to the brink, then down a tad, then back to the brink. Thirty minutes went by, then forty, and I had lost all control. My groin arched up thrusting my cock head deeper and deeper into her mouth, urgently seeking release.

I hollered out loud as semen gushed up into her, spurt after spurt -- where in hell's name was it coming from. Surely this was the end. My cock must shrivel up and die.

It tried. But Mary was having none of it. She just kept on going, sucking, biting viciously and using her hand to pump my shaft vigorously and work it with her nails. My head fell back on the bed. I had lost control and all inhibition and groaned and moaned in exquisite agony.

Dimly, the shrill of the timer edged into my consciousness. My cock was now entrapped within her cunt, whose walls immediately began to contract and release as Mary's orgasm began, and never seemed to end. She rode me now furiously, driving her frail body down onto me, gripping my cock with her cunt and holding. Then up and down again, pounding me deep into the mattress on every stroke. And my own body responded in kind, adjusting to the rhythm, thrilling with her as the fluid released by one orgasm after another drenched my balls and spread across my stomach. My cock was on fire. My sac contracted, engorged cunt lips slapped my balls, shooting bolts of pain through me which intensified with every stroke...... What the hell..?

Through the mist in my eyes I saw her in the mirror -- Angie had returned. She stood at the foot of the bed, in action pose. I watched in fascination as the whip fell, then recoiled in agony as pain coursed through my aching balls and spread through my entire body. It bucked and weaved trying to avoid the tails of that whip, but Mary held on. Her hands pressed my chest into the bed, my cock was trapped within her cunt, which rose and fell on my cock in perfect syncopation with the sting of the whip.

"Your safe word is 'chicken'."

Angie's voice cut into my confused consciousness. Dimly, I understood. This was not meant for Mary, it was meant for me!

Angie had not missed a stroke. And she did not miss one either as she continued,

"Understand?"

I suppose I must have nodded, or given some sign of assent, because the whip rose and fell, rose and fell, and the lightning bolts shot through me in rapid succession.

I fought down fear. How much of this could a guy take without injury? I recalled her words. 'Trust'. Her pussy may be 'trained', she knew my balls were not. She would not rely on me to use my safe word, because if it had been up to me, I would have used it already, for fear of injury. But I knew that Angie would not injure me. My safe word referred solely to the level of pain I could take. And there was no way I was going to say 'chicken', was there? The vixen!

At a barked command, Mary switched position, revolving her body and placing her hands on my chest, all the while keeping my cock embedded in her cunt.

The whip continued to descend with awful regularity. Now, though, the tips of its tails struck Mary's exposed vulva as well as my balls and the underside of my cock, the bit that was exposed. Mary writhed, but not only in agony. Even through the pain I could feel her come. Again and again.

Mary's body began to sag,

"Present!"

then resumed its position. The whip descended, and I descended - into a kind of trance. The pain in my groin was excruciating. But there was no way I was going to say 'chicken', was there.

Dimply I became aware that Suzi had replaced Mary. Perhaps only because the force of the whip intensified. My whole being was consumed with one thought and one thought only -- no 'chicken'. Yet this is not quite true. I endured, that's for sure, but amongst the pain was also pleasure, the exquisite pleasure of cunt walls vibrating, contracting about my cock as Suzi began to orgasm, and did not stop.

I have no memory how this bizarre session ended. Maybe I lapsed into merciful unconsciousness. One thing, though, I am sure about. I did not say 'chicken'.

"You did well."

Ravenous, my head was too full with pizza to allow a response.

"And don't worry. There's no permanent damage."

"I fucking hope not," I think I spluttered.

"Trust, Ron. Remember?"

"Sure. When your balls are being ripped to shreds."

Swollen to gargantuan proportions my ball bag was one huge sphere. That there were still two balls in there, I would believe when I could see them. Or feel them, beyond an almighty, all-consuming ache.

"I gave you a safe word, Ron."

"Oh sure! Like, I'm going to say 'chicken'?"

I washed down the pizza with a healthy mouthful of the red wine, which I had to admit was as delicious a wine as I have ever supped.

Angie laughed lightly. But I forgave her instantly because she also replenished my glass.

"I had wondered about that," she said. "Whether a gamma-male would actually bring the word over his lips."

"Gamma male or not," I responded, "you knew damn well."

Another tinkle of a laugh.

"Shame I had only two slaves," she said. "Five or six may have done the trick."

"Don't even think about it!"

The full-size pizza had disappeared. The wine carafe was empty.

"Time to take care of those aching balls," I think Angie said as she led me back to the room where it had all begun.

Oil. Warm. Soft hands. OhmiGod.

She fellated me as though my cock was her entire universe. It was certainly mine. Such exquisite pleasure. Perhaps it is only possible after intense pain. Who knows? Who cares?

She brought me to the brink five times, or was it ten, before release. That there was still stuff in there, never mind pints of it! Three times she made me come, or was it six? I sprayed my seed into her mouth or her cunt, whichever orifice she chose.

This exquisite being, whose body and bearing had enamored me even while hidden beneath the cloth of business. She consumed me totally.

If there is a heaven, let it be this.

I drove home in my Morgan still quivering. Had this been real, or was it but a dream? My groin appeared to know. But my brain could not get itself around the conundrum. Surely I would awaken, oh so reluctantly, and find it was but another fantasy. And if it were not, how could I possibly go about my business in the office, knowing she was there.

As it turned out, I couldn't. I chickened out. Called in sick. And the next day. Wednesday, I dared, and was summoned immediately by Pat.

"I'm so sorry, Ron," she said. "But someone has to go. And you know your work over the past few weeks - well, Ron, you'll understand, I'm sure, why it has to be you."

I looked for her. Even as I packed my few things prior to departure, tail between my legs. But she did not show herself. And, under constant supervision, I could not go looking. From the highest of the heights to the lowest of the depths.

I slunk out of there like a man who deserved what he got. Chicken.

It took a while. But eventually I believed it was her voice on the line.

"Think future, Ron. Not past."

"Fine talk, Angie. Thanks a bunch."

"I mean it, Ron. Meet me at 'Baldie's' at seven."

"You mean, 'If I dare'."

"Just be there."

The line went dead.

How could I not? 'Baldie's' was a local bar run by a guy who was, well, somewhat thin on top. One of those bars in LA that are neither up-market nor down-market, though it did cater to, shall we say, a wide market. Of course, I was early. And of course, I was sure she would not come. A fool's errand.

So the tap on my shoulder as I sat hunched over the bar came as a genuine surprise. She took my hand and guided me to a remote, darkened area of the bar -- couples only; anything goes. I groaned inwardly. She sensed my mood.

"Don't worry, Ron. I'm no more into public fucking than you are."

"So why are we here, Angie. Tell me. This is not my kind of joint."

"Mine neither. But it's private. I have a proposition. A bit unusual, shall we say."

She angled her gorgeous head and I knew. It had been no dream. I was bound to her as long as she wanted it so.

"So why here. Why not someplace else, like your place. Or my apartment."

"Because you know what would happen there. We'd just start fucking, and that would be that."

As a statement of fact, it was hard to fault this, but, personally speaking, I was not entirely convinced that this would be a bad idea!

"If it's any comfort to you, Ron, I got fired too. Well, I quit. Same thing."

"You quit? Why?"

"Because of you, Ron. You don't seriously think my ambition in life is to be a junior office clerk, do you?"

"No! Indeed! I had wondered about that. The fancy house, an' all. It didn't hang together."

"There, you see then. So it won't come as a surprise that I only took the job because I was on the troll."

"Troll?"

"Yes. Trolling for gamma-males. I told you already. You're a rare breed."

My brain was churning now. What the hell was coming down? I did not know, but I was fairly sure I would not like what I was about to hear.

"So once I found you," Angie continued, brightly, "there was no need to stay."

"Well fine for you, Angie," I fired back. "For me, well, I've just lost my only source of livelihood. With my record, the chances of finding a slot are not good."

"Ah! Maybe because you're thinking wrong about this. You have to use what you have in this world. And you are a gamma-male."

Yes, this was definitely going somewhere I was sure I didn't want it to go.

"The fancy house, for instance. It isn't mine, you know. I do have a nice place of my own, but not that fancy."

"So whose is the fancy house, then?"

I knew the answer before I asked.

"Mistress Oxana."

"Aha! The elusive Mistress Oxana... You know, Angie, I think I'm going to finish my drink and get the hell outa here."

Those eyes. She knew I couldn't.

"Before you hear my proposition?"

"It's that I'm sure I do not want to hear."

"Well, if you're afraid....."

She made as if to collect her bag and vamoose. It was more than I could bear.

"OK. Let's hear it, then," I heard my stupid mouth say.

"Are you sure? I mean, you said you were afraid to even hear it...."

"I didn't say that. I said ... Oh to hell with what I said. Come out with it. What is this proposition?"

"Requires a bit of explanation."

"OK. I'm listening."

"Well, Ron, Ok. Here it is. This is LA, right. And in LA there are a lot of strange people with a lot of strange tastes, fancies. Right?"

"I suppose you're right. You would seem to know."

"I do, Ron. And it's not bad. There's nothing bad that is entered into willingly by all parties and does not harm anyone. Agree?"

"I suppose so. Depends, maybe, what is meant by 'entered into willingly'."

"Think of Suzi and Mary, then. You were there. D'you think they were unwilling? Even as they got the hell whipped out of them. D'you think there was a single second when they thought they were being coerced?"

She laughed lightly. Because she knew I would have to agree. Nothing I had observed led me to any other conclusion than that Mary and Suzi where more than willing participants.

"And how about you, Ron? Even when you were tied to the bed and your balls whipped to hell, was there a single moment when you wanted to be someplace else?"

I had to think about that, but in all honesty I had to admit she was right. It had hurt. By God, it had hurt. But at no time had I wanted to be someplace else.

"So there's your measure of 'entered into willingly', Ron. You had your safe word, Suzi and Mary had theirs. I was the only one of the four of us who used a safe word. You made me submit, Ron. And the moment I did, you stopped. You had your safe word and you did not use it."

"Well, hell. 'Stop' is not quite the same as 'chicken', I said indignantly.

Again that tinkle of a laugh.

"I'll admit that was a bit mischievous. But still, Ron, if you were seriously wanting outa there, you could have used it. No-one on God's earth would ever have accused you of being really 'chicken'. Hell, I haven't seen a man absorb that much punishment for years!"

"Now she tells me!"

"Seriously. You can take it. And you can hand it out. And you do both the way a gamma-male does. You are perfect."

"Perfect. For what?"

"To join our team."

Big eyes. Team?

"You're gonna have to slide that by me some more, Angie. Team? What team?"

"Think of it this way, Ron. You had a helluva weekend. You enjoyed yourself like never before. Correct me if I'm wrong."

I was silent. She was not wrong.

"So what would be the difference if there was an audience?"

"An audience!?"

"An invisible one. They can see us, but we can't see them. Believe me, Ron, there's voyeurs in this town would have paid through their eye teeth to watch us."

"So that's the proposition, eh?" I said, scornfully. "Live sex shows for perverts."

"Nothing perverted about it, Ron. We've agreed. Anything entered into willingly is ok. If there are people prepared to pay -- and there are, hugely - to watch us have fun, why not? Where's the harm done to anyone?"

I was silent.

"And the S&M bit, Ron. That really brings them in. And you can't say it's perverted unless you admit to me, straight in my face, that you weren't turned on."

I did not look her straight in the face because I could not in all honesty so admit.

She left me then with my thoughts. Which were all over the place. Eventually they settled down.

"I can't do this, Angie," I said. "I wouldn't be able to if I knew people were watching."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Not even if I tell you that everything we did over the weekend was watched?"

"You gotta be joking!"

"How would you know, whether I was or not? There were mirrors everywhere. How do you know they were what they seemed?"

Horror struck.

"Angie! You didn't do that to me. You wouldn't. You couldn't."

My anguish was palpable.

"I'll be upfront with you, Ron. There was one person. Just one."

"Don't tell me, let me guess."

"Mistress Oxana" we said simultaneously.

"Without this you would not be here," she continued calmly. "Mistress Oxana runs the show. Naturally she vets all potential candidates."

"So that is what it was, Angie. A goddam audition. MiGod! To think -- well, what I thought. That's it for me. I'm outa here."

And so saying I lurched out of my seat. The guy in the next booth was getting a blow job from a petite blonde. Amongst the moans and groans of sexual pleasure that greeted my ears from down the aisle as I prepared to head for the exit was her voice

"Ten, twenty grand a week....and me."

We went to my place.

In the morning, I asked,

"So when do I get to meet this Mistress Oxana then?"

"When she wants to meet you."

"No more auditions, then."

"Not yet. Maybe later."

"Later?"

"When we move up a notch."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, there are levels, you know. You're at level 2. Pretty good for a beginner."

"Indeed. So how many levels are there?"

"No-one knows."

"So where are you? What level?"

"Four."

"So how do you get to level four - from level two?"

"Training."

"What kind of training?"

"You'll find out, when the time comes. If the time comes. First things first."

And that was as much as I could get out of her.

The room was candlelit and mirrored on all sides. This time, no illusion. These were not ordinary mirrors. Behind them were .. Who? Whoever, they had paid dearly to watch.

I stood in the center of the room. Suzi and Mary were in 'attendance'. Their role was to keep me erect. They were good at what they did.

At each corner, a girl was bound to a frame. The frame was adjusted to stretch her splayed legs, displaying her pubis and vulva to full view. Her back was arched so her ribs showed through milk white skin. Her breasts were small, but their nipples were elongated because they were held in clamps attached to a chain under tension. Her hands were tied behind her back, a blindfold covered her eyes and she was gagged. Spot lights highlighted her breasts, her thighs, her pussy, naked, like that of a young girl.

Dressed in thigh boots and nothing else, Angie patrolled the room in the manner of a lion tamer. She selected a whip from a rack and flailed the air with it, its swish causing the tethered girls to tremble in anticipation. She approached a girl, and drew her fingers across the trembling flesh, stroking, stomach, breasts, neck, thighs. Slowly she stroked an inner thigh, caressed vaginal lips, opened them out and stroked their pink insides. She did this to all the girls in arbitrary order, multiply, focusing more and more on their pussies, bringing them more and more into attention. She was very good at what she did.

No girl knew on whom the whip would first be laid, nor where. One received a lash to the stomach, another to the side of her breast, a third on the inner thigh. Angie wandered seemingly haphazardly from one girl to the other, lashing seemingly at random. Thighs, stomachs reddened. Clamps were removed so breasts could be reddened, nipples fondled, twisted, pulled. The whip descended with greater force causing the helpless naked torsos to wriggle in their bonds, silent screams to rent the cool air.

Four naked helpless stretched out torsos writhed in hapless unison. The blows fell, harsher, six strokes on the thigh where two had been before, then ten. Then came the nipple whip, swishing through the air, pausing only as Angie stretched to twist and pull cruelly at tortured nipples.

Everything was stage-managed brilliantly. Not that the girls were simulating. Far from it. But the manner of their torment, the timing, the slight pause before the stroke, the slight shift in angle - training?

It seemed the girls where at the end of their tether. Their bodies writhed uncontrollably. Then came out the pussy whip.

Around the square Angie marched, firm now of purpose. Ten strokes directly on each exposed vulva, then ten more. Then stroking, probing, gentle fingers. Gags were removed. Sighs, gasps, whimpers, then screams as the pussy whip resumed its work. Twenty on each, eighty screams. Then back to fondling,. Twenty more....

I know not how the order was determined, just that one girl was unbound, dragged to the center of the room and cast at my feet.

"You want to be fucked?"

"Yes! Mistress."

"Louder."

"Yes! Mistress."

"Say 'I want to be fucked hard'"

"Yes, Mistress. I want to be fucked hard.

And that was where I went to work. No half measures. I rammed my cock in and out of the girl's gaping cunt like there was no tomorrow. No quarter given, no quarter requested. Each girl, in turn, came instantly and kept on coming.