Mme Sylvie's Special Event

The day of Madame Sylvie's Charity Fuckathon dawned. During the afternoon, the troupe of performers assembled. They tried on their costumes and made any adjustments that were found to be necessary. Mme Sylvie inspected the state of her ladies' pubic areas and sent them off to shave again if their smoothness was not of the required standard. Early in the evening, dressed again in their street clothes, they transferred to Le Club Chatte Noir.

The club usually held two sessions, one in the afternoon, and another in the evening, extending through to the early hours of the morning. During the two-hour break between sessions, the club was set up for the Fuckathon. Normally, for the spontaneous events that happened from time to time, the more private areas upstairs were used. However for this evening the dance floor of the main bar area would be the arena. The floor was cleared, tables and chairs stacked away. Six gynaecological examination couches that had been acquired and modified for the evening were set up in a circle. All the head ends facing towards the centre, and each with sufficient space around them to allow free circulation of the participants. The heights of the couches were adjusted so that a man of average height could comfortably stand to perform. A number of low boxes were also provided so that gentlemen of lesser stature could reach without straining. The head ends of the couches were lowered so a man or a woman could easily position themselves at the head of the performer to receive fellaito or cunnilingus. The rest of the club was left to function as normal, although it was not expected to be getting much use during the main event.

The rules of the event were simple. Each of the participants would be given a number and they would indicate on a sheet next to their number the amount of donation they would give. Fifty Euros per orgasm was the suggested amount, but each could give within reasonable margins, as much or as little as they could afford. The idea after all, was not to try to rip-off the participants, but to get them to donate to charity. Stewards, found by Henri, would supervise and mark off on the lists each orgasm achieved, and then calculate the donations to be collected.

Cardinal amongst the rules of the Fuckathon were hygiene and safety. All participants, male and female must be showered and clean before entering the arena. All men must, and this was an absolute rule, be wearing condoms, freely provided by the club, before attempting penetration, oral, vaginal or anal.

On the part of the performers no holds, or holes, were barred. The entire troupe was willing to perform anal sex, although this was generally less favoured in France than other places. Each would prepare themselves before the event with douching and copious amounts of lubricant.

In terms of security, the club was pretty much self-policing. Anyone appearing unsuitable was barred entry to the premises. Inside, an unspoken but generally agreed etiquette was applied. Any unwanted advances would be gently but firmly repelled. It was expected after that the rule of 'look but don't touch' would be respected. Anyone being a nuisance or consistently 'not taking the hint', might find themselves black listed and refused entry in future.

Henri had raised the door price of Le Club Chatte Noir for the evening. That extra and a percentage of his normal take would also be donated to the cause. To help the party atmosphere he was also providing a limited amount of free, cheap, champagne.

All was now set, the couches that the performers would be using had been draped in cloths to disguise them, and the 'arena' surrounded by extendable barrier tapes. These barriers would remain in place with two entrance and exit routes opened, and manned by stewards during the performance, to ensure the orderly progress of participants in and out of the arena.

Madame Sylvie and her troupe, ten in all, had changed into their costumes, all except one item, which would be donned immediately before the main event began, and covered up with sarongs. They now relaxed either at the bar or in the room upstairs that had been set aside to be their 'green room'.

Why ten in the troupe you may ask? The answer is simple, although only six of the troupe would be performing at any one time, the object is to clock up as many participants' orgasms as possible in the allotted time. This is not a trial of endurance for any of the performers. Over those four hours, it was expected that all ten girls that made up the troupe would enter the fray several times.

The doors of the club were opened at the usual hour and the premises began to fill up. There would be another two hours before the Fuckathon was scheduled to begin. They hoped by then that the club would be full, and the sense of anticipation would be running high.

During this waiting time it was discovered that someone was taking side bets on the outcome of the Fuckathon. Just how many people could be serviced by six women in four hours? The side bets would be tolerated as long as the bulk of the pot was also donated to the cause. This was greeted with a certain amount of grumbling by those involved in the betting, but soon was settled amicably and every one was more or less happy.

The start time arrived, and the bar was heaving. All ten of the troupe had withdrawn from the bar a few minutes before the allotted time. Now, they donned the half mask that was the final element of the costume Mme Sylvie had devised, adding an extra element of mystery and anonymity to the whole ensemble.

There was a blast of triumphant music and Henri announced over the PA:

"Mesdames et Messieurs! Madame Sylvie's Charity Fuckathon is about to begin! It is with the very greatest of pleasure that I present for your delight and orgasmic satisfaction, Madame Sylvie's Pussycats!"

The troupe paraded in to roars of approbation from the crowd. The six who were to start proceedings entered the arena, the other four assembled by the bar, ready to relieve their sisters when need arose. The six cast aside the coverings of their sarongs, revealing for the first time their full costume.

They were clad almost identically. Torsos were covered with black satin basques, cut away at the bust to support but fully expose their breasts. The basques terminated at the hips, leaving a bare expanse of naked smooth flesh encompassing their genital areas and the tops of their thighs. All of the girls wore lace topped, black, very sheer, hold-up stockings and red four-inch stiletto heeled shoes. Their arms were covered to just above the elbow with off-white lacy, fingerless, long gloves. The whole ensemble was finished off with the black Pussycat half-masks. The only thing missing was the pussycat tails, but these were rejected, as they would only have been a hindrance.

The overall effect of these six semi-naked women posing in the arena, with the dance floor lights playing over them was jaw-droppingly stunning, and instantly triggered even louder applause from the assembled crowd.

When the applause had died down a little, The Pussycats assumed their positions. Lifting their legs onto the stirrups of their gynaecological couches, they settled back and signalled they were ready to begin.

Proceedings started slowly with the first few men admitted into the arena. Most were sporting full erections, and at the stewards' suggestion, had already donned condoms to aid the smooth flow of the events. Other men needed a little manual help to bring them up to full speed. It was quickly decided to bring on a couple of the reserve Pussycats to provide a little 'fluffing' service, so that all the male participants would be fully ready when they entered the arena. The procedure was simple: each man would start at the hand, move to the mouth and then to the vagina or anus to go for the gold. If any man could not stay the full course, well that was just too bad. His orgasm was counted and another eager participant quickly replaced him. When the women started to enter the play, this slightly complicated matters. The Pussycats knew that they would need their mouths and at least one hand to successfully service a woman. This still left one hand free to ready the next man who would replace the one pounding away between their legs. Soon a steady rhythm was established, and men and women were joining and leaving in an almost constant flow. Even the loud music that was being played could hardly drown out the moans, groans and ecstatic screams of all those involved in this monumental gangbang. Some men were just too eager to join in and were masturbating furiously while they waited their turn. Some of these took their self-manipulations just a step too far, and had to drop out and re-await their turn once they had recovered.

After about twenty minutes, the first of the Pussycats signalled that she needed relief. One of her sisters replaced her almost seamlessly, having spent a little time rehearsing the changeovers before the club had opened. The retiree went to the bar to rest. The girl who relived her had been on 'fluffing' duties, so another of the reserves stepped up to take over that role.

Mme Sylvie's careful planning had paid off and the event was running like clockwork. Pussycats came and went smoothly as each reached the limits of her endurance. Mme Sylvie herself managed more than the others: six half-hour sessions over the four hours, with just short rest breaks in between. She was one of the first in and the last out. Also, with her special little tricks seemed to be processing more of the participants than any of the other Pussycats. Nobody could keep count of how many orgasms were achieved in that mighty Fuckathon, except that is, the stewards whose job it was to keep tally.

A sudden final rush with all ten of the Pussycats joining in to push up the final score, Mme Sylvie's Charity Fuckathon drew to a close. With the last of the participants serviced and ushered out of the arena, the Pussycats stood wobbling slightly on their high heels, joined hands and took their bows to tumultuous applause and cheers of all gathered. Their curtain calls over, the Pussycats walked rather unsteadily out of the bar and upstairs to their 'green room', where they collapsed in elated near exhaustion, for a very well deserved rest.

Henri sent up champagne, his good stuff, and sandwiches which he had held in reserve to aid the ladies' recovery.

Eventually the club began to clear. The Pussycats, the for-one-night-only troupe of sexual superstars, showered, redressed in their street clothes, said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

A couple of days later a new piece of gossip was heard in Puy Saint Martin.

"Did you see Madame Sylvie on Sunday morning?"

"No, should I have?"

"Oh yes, she was walking like a duck!"

"I wonder what depths of depravity she has sunk to this time?"

If only they knew the reason for Mme Sylvie's discomfort for those few days. When the final figures came in, she could see that all the discomfort and stifled sniggers from the village gossips were more than worth suffering. In those few short hours spent on her back, she and her Pussycats had raised much more than she had hoped for: almost twenty-five thousand Euros!

Not bad for one of the poorest regions in the whole of France, in the middle of a recession.

*14 July, Bastille Day is the French equivalent of the U.S. 4 July, Independence Day and celebrated with fairs, feasting and fireworks.

Finally I would like to thank RedHead*Muse for her help with editing this story for me