The Descent Ch. 05byWRJames©
Do to popular demand, I am posting this next chapter on Literotica. I apologize for the delay -- I was in the middle of writing this when I went off to Tanzania for a couple of weeks. Some of this chapter was written on airplanes and in the Amsterdam airport.
Hopefully, I'll have the rest of the novel completed by year end.
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He was waiting outside, shivering a little in the morning fog, when Karina pulled into his driveway in a little two seat roadster. Like the yacht, he though, if you had to ask the cost ... It had diplomatic plates. That much of her story, it seemed, might be true. Another car pulled in behind it, large and black, its windows so dark they hid whoever was inside. He shivered, even more, wondering who might be inside that car.
He had decided, irrationally, that he didn't want her to see how he had locked the front door and secreted the key under a small rock nearby. No watch, no keys, no wallet. He had even removed his wedding ring. No socks even, just the slip on shoes he used around the yard. He was glad now, that he had been so cautious.
She unfolded herself out of her little car and inspected him. She was wearing a raincoat, not buttoned shut, loosely belted to show that there was nothing underneath it. "Good," she said, rubbing the fuzz that was left on his head, "good." She rubbed her hand across his face, his head, his chest, assuring that they were smooth. She sniffed under his armpits. She put a hand under his shorts, triggering an immediate erection. That hand went back to feel how loose his asshole was, still greased with the lube. He blushed at the thought of his unseen audience, in that other vehicle.
"Very good." She noticed his embarrassment. "What, you are already blushing like a virgin? What do you think you will be doing, once we arrive?"
"Fucking," he said, trying to be cocky.
"Being fucked," she corrected. "You do not understand how you have been trained?"
"You will be fucked in all possible ways. You will be fucked in ways that do not seem possible. You well be well rewarded for your efforts." She paused. "Well, are you getting in the car?"
She had put down a towel to cover the leather seat. "Be careful," she said. "This is my husband's car. He is very protective of it."
"He permits you to drive it?"
She snorted. "None of this is done with the permission of my husband. Come, let us proceed."
"What about Brian?"
"He will arrive on his own."
He had expected that they would turn right at the entrance of the neighbourhood, to go down to the main highway, but instead she went left, back into the woods. There wasn't much up that way, at least not this time of day, this time of year. No snow yet for the ski center. Too chilly for the fair. There had been Halloween hayrides for a few weeks, in the evening, but they were over now.
"You film here?" It was a silly question. As they pulled into the central square of the fairgrounds, there were a dozen people waiting for them.
"What do you think? Take off your shorts." She looked at the muddy ground outside the car. "You can retain the shoes."
Everyone else was fully clothed. Rather heavily clothed, for that matter. She saw his hesitation. "It is tradition," she said. "You will understand." She paused. "I must present you, for evaluation."
"To determine that you will be suitable."
"Your word is not enough?"
"My friend, I do not finance these ventures. I am, how do you say it, an employee? My recommendation has great influence, but I do not make the final decisions." She turned his face so that he was looking directly into those dark eyes. "You will do well for me." He could not tell if it was an assurance, or a command.
He pulled off the shorts, and got out of the car, provoking a few whistles from the onlookers. Karina took his arm and led him over to a large, burly man with a ragged grey beard. He was wearing a chequered beret, smoking a cigar. Impersonating a director, Tom thought. The man had seen too many old movies. He thought he was Orson Welles. The men who had been in the car trailing Karina had joined him -- two burly men in dark suits. The kind of men you imagined with pistols in a shoulder holster underneath that suit jacket.
"Karina," he said, with an accent that seemed Russian, "what have you brought for us today?" He walked up, Tom assumed for a handshake, but instead he stuck his hand under Tom's balls. He stroked enough to provoke an erection. "Not bad." He ran his hands over Tom's arms and shoulders. "Nice smooth muscles. Like a woman. Slap some breasts on him, he'll do nicely."
"Do not be deceived," Karina said, "he is very strong."
"He has used his superior strength upon you?" It was one of the guards who snarled that. She had a swollen lip from where Tom had slapped her. Karina winced, Tom blushed. "Bastard!" The slap hit Tom's face so unexpectedly that he was simply stunned.
"Sergei!" the director snapped.
"I do not like men who use their strength upon women. Perhaps," the guard snarled, "it would be of interest to see how well you fare against the strength of a real man."
The guard made another swing, but this time Tom was not as unprepared. He stepped inside the blow and delivered a knee to the man's belly. The guard doubled over in pain and surprise, and Tom was about to kick the inviting target his nose presented, but Karina stepped in between them. The other guard had his gun out. It would have been pointed at Tom if she had not been in the way.
"Stop it!" Karina repeated. She seemed very calm, but no one else was breathing. One of the staff was filming. She shifted position to get a better angle, and the gun wandered over in her direction.
"Sergei, my friend, I know you are attempting to defend me, but you are not being helpful. Perhaps," Karina added, seeing how Tom was bristling still, "we should proceed with the initiation. It could possibly assist in working off this excess of male hormones."
That, at least, was enough to convince the second guard to put his gun away. The two of them were laughing, trading remarks in Russian, words that Tom had never learned in his class in high school. They were starting to take off their clothes.
"Initiation?" Tom asked. "What initiation?"
It was, at best, a rhetorical question. The guards had removed their suit jackets, revealing, as he had expected, holsters underneath. They were in the process of pulling their pants down, forcing them off with some difficulty over clunky, mud stained shoes. They were both wearing boxers underneath, which they had pulled down just enough to reveal their genitals. Actually, it was a blessing, he thought, that they had not removed more clothing. One was slightly obese, the other enormously so -- huge bellies, legs like hairy tree trunks, the rest mercifully hidden by their white dress shirts.
My God, he thought to himself, what am I doing here? He had loved playing the woman for Karina -- beautiful Karina, even more enticing with that big purple cock jutting out of her. And Brian, smooth, thin, almost delicate, with those lovely little breasts. Women, he liked women, and if the woman happened to have a dick, all the better. But an actual male -- fat, hairy, ugly, smelly -- how could anyone want that?
You are being paid as a woman. That's what Karina had said, and he had shrugged it off. He hadn't thought about the implications. Well, hadn't he watched enough clips of pretty girls being fucked by disgusting looking men? Why had he thought this would be different? But he had imagined Brian, or Karina, or some really well built guy, one of those muscular porn stars who looked like -- him. Not these burly, surly ... God, there was no way he was going to submit to these cheap bullies. He'd die first.
Karina was pushing him down to kneel in the mud. It was all too obvious what the initiation was going to consist of.
"This is bullshit!" He tried to get up again, and she kicked him, knocking his legs out from under him. "I never agreed to this!"
"Tom!" she was whispering harshly in his ear, "what did you think you would be doing! You are here to accept penises within your body, to promote ejaculations. You are being paid to do that."
Paid to do it. Paid to be a woman, not even a woman, a cheap whore. Well, maybe at least not so cheap. "Show me," he snarled, "the fucking money!"
"Ah, that is a good one!" The director was enjoying all this. "The fucking money! The money, literally, to be fucked. Here my friend!" He pulled out a wad of bills. Tom riffled through them. Twenty five twenty dollar bills, all worn and dirty.
"These cannot be traced," the director said. "They were contributed to the G-strings of young ladies. Or, in some cases, directly to their cunts!"
Tom realized he had no place to put the money. He handed to Karina, who handed it back to the director.
"You must pass the initiation first," she said. "After that, you will receive half."
"On your knees, petuh!" The guard slapped him again. "Beg me for my cock in your mouth!"
"Tom!" Karina hissed. "This is not a game! You must do this properly!"
A motorcycle roared into the square -- Brian with a girl, or what appeared to be a girl, behind him, both in leather jackets and jeans. "Great!" the girl said, "we missed it!"
"We have not begun," Karina said. "Tom here is about to beg Sergei for the honour to suck his cock. Are you not Tom?"
Tom was weeping with shame. "Relax," Brian said. "We've all done it."
"It is a tradition, a ritual," Karina whispered. "The guards must make it hard on you. You must prove that you are worthy."
Tom took a deep breath and knelt down on the mud.
"Ah Karina," the director sighed, "you have bewitched another one. It must be the gypsy blood."
The guard was scowling at him.
"You must beg him," Karina whispered. "It is, how do you say, customary."
"Sergei, will you allow me to suck your cock? Please?"
"That's better," the guard growled. For all that buildup, he was tiny and flaccid. It seemed that the crowd around them was making him nervous. The smell of him was enough to make Tom gag-- the sharp bitter smell of sweat, not from exertion, but from terror. The man was trembling, not visibly, but Tom could feel the belly shaking, the heart fluttering.
"Back off!" Kari motioned the onlookers back with a harsh whisper. "Give them some room! Tom, lick his balls!"
"What?" Tom mumbled, with that cock still in his mouth, and was rewarded with another slip.
"Lick my balls, petuh! Put your fingers there," the guard put his hand over Tom's, guided it back to press against his asshole. "Yes, like that, just gently,."
"Ah, Sergei," the other guard jibed, "does your wife does this for you?"
"No, but your wife does." That made Tom laugh, and he was rewarded with another slap. "Pay attention to your work, petuh. Our conversations are of no concern to such as you."
Tom stuck that finger in a little, he wiggled it, and the guard sprang to attention, to roars of approval from the onlookers. "Give it to him!" someone yelled, and Sergei tried to cram himself down Tom's throat. The angle was wrong; Tom had to crouch down even lower to get his head turned up. He couldn't get himself relaxed properly. And the tip of the guards cock was rough, almost calloused. It was like a rasp trying to bore its way into the back of Tom's mouth. It was battering against him, bruising him, choking him, gagging him.
"Sergei," Karina's voice was urgent, "back off a little. Give him a chance."
Thank you, thank you, Tom thought. He took a deep breath, he stuck out his tongue, he yawned. He closed his eyes and imagined that it was Brian, lovely Brian, that was invading him. His throat parted, the penis slid on through. It's okay, he thought, it's going to be okay. But it wasn't okay. Brian had been hairless, but Tom now had his nose jammed up against that fat, hairy belly. The guy was trying to pull him by the hair -- but it was too short. So his ears were grabbed instead, holding his head in place as that belly beat frantically into Tom's nose. Tom could feel his oesophagus bulging as that cock went up and down within it. His throat wasn't designed for that kind of abuse. Something was going to rupture, and he was going to die like that, with a penis halfway down to his stomach.
"Boje moy!" The director was staring at that vibrating bulge, "Karina, you have trained him well! My God, I wish my wife could do that!"
"Send her to me, Andrei. I will be glad to train her."
"Oh no, I will not let you put her under your spell!"
"Are you afraid she will make you learn to take it like a man?"
The guard gave one last thrust. Tom gagged as he felt the hot cum against the rawness of his throat. The guard did not withdraw, he was straining, and Tom braced himself for a second shot, this time of urine. But nothing happened. The guard gave a grunt, it was hard to tell if it was disgust or satisfaction, pulled himself out, and tucked his cock back into his boxers. There was a round of applause. Tom started to choke, to gag, and then he was puking, dry heaving into the mud. That provoked more cheers.
That, Tom thought, was really, really disgusting. The applause from the onlookers was not helping a bit. He drew himself back up to his knees to wait with horror as the second guard waddled towards him. The man was enormously fat, his hairy belly hanging down under his shirt, so low it almost covered his cock. Getting his face anywhere near that was going to make him puke again. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, opened his mouth. He was rewarded with another slap.
"No," the man growled. "Not so easily. I want to fuck you like the petuh that you are. Turn around." Tom did that, gratefully, crouching on all fours, but a kick sent him sprawling into the mud. "Lie there like the pig you are." The guard jumped on him, knocking the wind out of him, and grabbed his balls to pull his ass up. A grunt, and the man attempted to impale him. Thank goodness, he thought, that he had prepared for this. But he was tense. In spite of himself, he resisted, and it hurt. It hurt a lot. He let out a yelp, and the guard gave a grunt of satisfaction. His sessions with Karina and Brian had not prepared him for this. Relax, he told himself, relax. He'd had a dildo twice the size of that prick inside him half an hour before, no problem. But now his inner ring was in spasm. He was gripping so hard the guard lost his erection. He was forced back out, to the derisive laughter of the onlookers.
"Petuh!" A slap against his ass, so hard it made him gasp, a finger shoved roughly within him. Then, the penis was inside him, all the way, in one stroke. That provoked another cheer from the crowd, as he felt that huge belly hit his buttocks. It was like being beaten on the ass with a two hundred pound down pillow. The force of it was bruising him as it crushed him against the ground. He couldn't even feel the cock inside of him, but the force of that belly was unbearable. And the guy couldn't come. He had started out so hard he got winded, running out of steam, drenching Tom with sweat
Finally, there was a grunt of satisfaction or exhaustion, and then he had three hundred pounds, at least, lying motionless on top of him. There were little bits of gravel mixed into the mud, and they were being imbedded into his skin. He couldn't breathe.
There was the sound of a kick, hopefully to the guy's balls, and the weight was gone. He stirred and got up. His back was drenched in the guard's sweat, the front of him was completely covered with mud. He was shivering. He was, against all logic, sporting a huge erection. Cheers were greeting him.
"Ah, my friend," Karina said, "you have done well! Come, let us clean up and get some refreshments." She reached behind him. He realized that there was something stuck in his ass. Wipes, like in the doctor's office. No -- it was a bill, a twenty dollar bill, soiled somewhat with shit and semen. Karina sniffed at it, made a face, and placed it gingerly into a pocket of her raincoat. "A tip," she said, "from Sasha."
At that point, Tom knew that his degradation was complete. In less than a week, he had descended completely, to the very lowest level of hell. In a way, the thought gave him comfort. There was nowhere to go but up.
He stepped onto a paved sidewalk, and one of the crew sprayed him with a hose. That was what passed as a shower -- well, why not? No need for modesty. The water was not as cold as he might have expected, but it was not particularly warm. No towels. No clothes, either. He went inside a barnlike structure they were using as the staging area, wet and naked. Someone handed him a cup of coffee. Everyone else was sitting on picnic tables scattered in a rough semicircle. He looked for a spot without too many splinters, and sat down, gingerly. His butt was sore, his throat was chafed. The day had barely started.
"This morning," the director was saying, "we will shoot two episodes. The first will feature Tom and Brian. The second will feature Tom, Karina, and Brenda." He nodded to the girl who had ridden in on the back of Brian's motorcycle. Girl friend? Girl at all? She was tall, skinny, long red hair, jacket open now to reveal a tank top. Boobs, yeah, she had them. So did her boyfriend.
"Now," the director said, "for the first scene, Brian is going to be a little girl. Please, Brian, open your shirt. Yes, those budding little breasts will be perfect. We will provide you with a pigtailed wig, false braces, white blouse and chequered skirt, white socks, and sneakers. Yes, yes, put them on. Tom, you will be a dirty old man. It should not be a difficult role for you. You will have this grey wig, this beard, yes, and this raincoat. Your own shoes should be adequate."
Brian had already gotten himself into costume.
"Isn't he the perfect little school girl?" The director was chortling with delight. "Open your blouse, show us your budding little tits. Yes, you are perfect."
"That is really, really sick," Tom said.
"Oh, my friend, you will enjoy this. Now, Brian will be sitting innocently on a bench, on the side of the square. You will approach him, and offer him a piece of candy. But of course, he will discover something else to lick.
"Now, Brian, it is important that you remember to open your blouse, so that we can give the full impression of your pigtails, your braces, and those tiny little tits. You will give Tom a very impressive blow job. Tom, it is required that you do not ejaculate at this time. Do you understand?"
"Very well. You will, upon my signal, decide that you wish to fuck the little girl instead. You will lift up the skirt, and discover that all is not as you expected. You will content yourself with fucking the orifice that is available. Again, it is important that you continue until instructed otherwise, without ejaculation. Brian, if you wish to ejaculate during this time, you may do so, in fact it would be desirable, but you must be able to do so again later on."
"No problem," Brian said.
"Good. Now, at my signal, Tom, you will withdraw from Brian. We will then do some makeup, if needed, to ensure that your penis appears to be quite stained. You will then place it back into Brian's mouth. Brian, I want to see that penis bobbing within your throat, the way Sergei's was within Tom's. It is a quite impressive thing, that you are able to accomplish. However, Tom, when you are ready to ejaculate, you must withdraw and splatter on to his face. Can this be done?"
"Good. It is really very simple. After that, of course, the two of you will reverse roles, following much the same pattern."
"What are we doing?" Brenda asked. She had been following Tom's and Brian's script with great attention.