Aunt Phoebe's Masturbatorium Ch. 04

"Lower it all the way down!" Marie laughed joyously.

"No!" the man screamed as his feet touched the hot liquid.

Within seconds the lower half of his naked body was below the surface and he cried out in pain.

"It's hot! It's hot!" he yelled over and over again.

"Shut up you son of a bitch or we'll leave you under there forever!" Marie threatened.

I looked quickly at Yvette to see her reaction. There was none.

"How can you remain so indifferent to all this?" I asked.

"You must remember that this is only a vision of what might be, not what will be."

"I don't care. I still find it repulsive."

I had always found cruelty in any form extremely distasteful, but seeing these women, these supposed "enlightened" Sisters, behave in such a barbaric fashion made me view them as far less evolved than the men they were persecuting. In my view, punishment never seemed to be a very effective tool for getting people to act ethically. A system of rewards based upon support and encouragement seemed to be a far more fruitful approach to the age-old question of social conditioning.

The lever had now been lowered so far that the man's entire body below the neck was submerged in the hot, steaming vileness. His face was contorted in pain and tears were running down his cheeks.

"Let me out! Let me out!" he pleaded.

Marie's answer was to lower him further into the pool.

"Drink!" she ordered as the lever descended.

The fluid rose up above his chin, and as it reached his mouth I saw him inhale a great draught of air even as the sperm rose up above his nose and eyes and finally over his head entirely, completely submerging him.

"Ten, nine, eight..." Marie began counting as the others joined in. "seven, six, five, four, three, two...one! Lift him up!"

The Sister at the control panel pressed a button that slowly lifted the lever out of the pool as the entire assemblage cheered and applauded. As the man's head came up out of the wash, a great stream of sperm shot out of his mouth. He coughed and spat up even more of the milky effluence as though his mouth had become a lotion dispenser. His entire face and body was awash in semen and I watched as he took in great gulps of air, grateful to be removed from the awful liquid.

"And again!" Marie announced gleefully.

The man's face grew horrified at the thought of a second dunking as he tried to free himself once again.

"No, please!" I've learned my lesson," he implored. "I'll never do it again!"

On and on he went, hurriedly trying to get the words out even as the lever once more made its way down into the pool.

"I promise Sisters," he shouted as the liquid once again cascaded over his body. "I promise to obey! I promise..."

It was too late. The sperm had now covered his mouth and nose and he was once more totally submerged.

The women were delirious with joy as they heard the man's final words dissipate into the molten glue that now covered his body. Again Marie led the countdown and the man was then released up into the air, his feet resting on the pool's surface.

Before the man could utter a word, he found himself once again on his way into the pool, still coughing up sperm and screaming in agony. And the more he screamed, the more pleasure the women seemed to take from it.

"Not again," I uttered, shaking my head with disbelief. "It's disgusting."

I watched in horror as the man's body once more disappeared into the brackish liquid. This time he didn't even have enough time to utter a single word before being submerged. This, of course, made all the women cheer all the more loudly, and to their delight, Marie let the count go to twenty.

"They'll kill him," I said, feeling great sympathy for the tortured man.

For what seemed like an indeterminable time, they kept the man submerged. Only when I heard Marie say, "Let him up!" did the lever finally rise above the surface, but this time the man barely moved. Layers of thick, creamy sperm dripped off his body in disgustingly huge clumps, hitting the surface below with loud smacks. His eyes were closed but from his mouth poured out rivulets of semen. He tried to cough up as much of it as he could, but he must have swallowed several pints of the horrible brew. It appeared the punishment was over.

"Can we please go now?" I asked Yvette. "You've made me sick to my stomach."

"I'm sorry you had to see this, but it was necessary."

"What kind of people could allow this to happen?"

She looked at me in her cryptic fashion but said nothing.

With the punishment now concluded, my guide led me to another set of stairs leading to the floor below. She warned me that from here on in, the things that I would see and witness would take on an ever more disquieting appearance, but that I should not allow myself to be troubled by them but only to watch and learn. This was little comfort to me after what I had just seen, but I nevertheless wanted to accommodate her wishes, as I felt that I had something to learn from it all—something she felt compelled to teach me.

The staircase was much like the one we had used to arrive at the floor above, except that it formed one, huge, winding arc that seemed to go on forever. When we finally set foot on the rocky surface at the end of the stairway my feet were actually tired.

During our descent the strident cries of people in distress greeted us, with an occasional jeer or command rising above the rancor. It sounded to me like there were hundreds of voices echoing throughout the gloomy stairwell, some wailing, others laughing, but all tainted with the sound of some otherworldly malignance. At some point during our journey I began to experience a profound fear, and I startled Yvette when I suddenly grabbed her hand for reassurance.

"Do not be afraid," she said in a soothing voice. "Nothing can harm you here."

"It's the voices. They sound so awful."

"Let us see," she said, dragging me reluctantly behind her.

I was not prepared for what now loomed before me—a vast subterranean chamber that was more than twice the size of the one from which we had just exited, and filled with hundreds of men and women positioned in various places within the immense cavern. The men of course were completely naked. Some were chained to the rock face, spread-eagled and left unattended. Others were being tortured with the lash or forced to act as living furniture for their mistresses, one man's body even used as a human bridge to span a three-foot gap between two adjacent platforms over which the women constantly trod.

I saw all kinds of devices being employed in which to entrap the men, some of which I had never seen before. Some, like the rack or the Iron Maiden I had seen in history books, but the bulk of the other contraptions were something that could only have been invented by some demented and perverse genius. I could not fathom their design or purpose other than those poor souls who were trapped inside them appeared to suffer great agony, and Yvette had to use all her healing skills upon me to keep my mind from delving into madness.

The women seemed to go about their torturing business with great relish, salivating over every wound inflicted upon their foes, either verbally or by physical attack. Many of the men's backs were a disgusting mosaic of open wounds and welts that formed a canvas of black, blue, and red—testament to the unbridled rage of their whip-bearing tormentors. Bodies were torn on racks, stretched on the wheel, and, worst of all, cut into tiny fragments on a thing called the "harrow," a device with hundreds of exquisite, razor-sharp blades that made machine-like incisions into the epidermis and then worked its way by degrees downward into the deeper tissues. It was so gruesome that I was felt like I was going to retch.

"What in God's name did these men do to deserve this?" I cried.

"These are the men who employed physical violence upon the Sisterhood. It is the second greatest offense a man can commit."

"The second greatest offense?" I asked bewildered. "What's the first?"

"You will see."

"Are they going to die?"

"I suppose that would depend upon the severity of their transgression."

In one corner of the cavern a man was being forced to sodomize another man, while another was sitting bent over at the waist, his long penis with its tip firmly planted in his mouth while two women furiously masturbated him.

"He called me a whore," one of the women said menacingly as she roughly tugged away at the swollen shaft.

"And he called me a bitch," said the other woman. "Can you imagine that? This little piece of shit calling me a bitch?"

The two angry women were almost twice the size of the man, and while one of their hands was occupied with jerking him off, their free hands kept both his legs up toward his midsection and simultaneously forced his head down upon his cock so that they could force as much of his prick into his mouth. The more buxom of the two women, a brunette with a very beautiful face, grabbed his hair and began to shove his head up and down very quickly once she sensed he was nearing orgasm. The other woman responded by gripping his cock firmly under the corona, pushing the tip of his cock as far up as she could into his gasping mouth.

"Hey girls!" the brunette said to several women standing nearby. "Come and watch this. The son of a bitch is going to pop!"

Six or seven women quickly ran over to watch the spectacle, leaning in closely to observe the forced milking.

"We're going to watch you eat your own sperm," said the brunette. "And I hope you choke on it you fucking bastard!"

With several more vicious pulls on his hair, she forced his head down and held it there while the other woman fisted him with a series of rapid bursts. I watched as his huge balls convulsed and rose up in toward his body, and knew that the sperm was now on its way up through his tortured shaft. The women knew it too and laughed mercilessly as the man's face turned red in his effort to breathe between the unrelenting stroking.

"If I see one drop of sperm," said the brunette, "just one, we're going to do it all over again."

The man made some feeble gesture of understanding and prepared himself for the onslaught.

"He hasn't ejaculated in two weeks," said the woman pumping his prick to the other women standing around. "We made sure the fluffs got to him several times each day without giving him release so that his sperm buildup would reach its maximum potential."

"Oh, boy," said a young girl of about nineteen. "So he's really going to get a mouthful!"

The others laughed at her comment but stopped once they saw the man's throat begin to convulse.

"Here it comes!" laughed the brunette, as the first ropes of creamy sperm began to splash about in his gulping mouth.

The brunette held his head in place as the other woman kept stroking his climaxing cock. I could see his eyes bulge out of his head as the torrent of hot, liquid seed shot into his mouth, and in between swallowing his own semen he had to fight for a second's worth of air to breathe.

"He seems to like the taste of his own goo!" a voluptuous blonde offered, unable to take her eyes from the scene. "I love it!"

"Drink it all down you miscreant!" a middle-aged Sister rasped. "We don't want to see one drop!"

It must have been extremely difficult for the man to comply with his tormentor's wishes, seeing that his position was not conducive to keeping the sperm from escaping his mouth. But comply he did, managing to swallow so quickly and effectively that not one drop of cum was visible. This seemed to gratify the Sisters to no end.

"That's it, keep swallowing," the brunette said, looking pleased.

"Mmm...I'll bet it tastes like vanilla pudding!" the woman masturbating him squealed with joy, as her hands brought forth yet another creamy eruption.

As the man continued to swallow load after load of cum, the women derided him without mercy, some even offering to squeeze his balls or help masturbate him to get the most sperm from his cock into his mouth. His orgasm must have lasted almost thirty seconds, but it seemed to have lasted much longer. Nowhere was there to be found a trace of sperm.

Finally, his throat stopped contracting and the brunette released her grip on his head.

"Get up and go back to your cell, you fucking pig! And if you ever speak to anyone of us in that tone of voice again, I'll make sure you find yourself there on the rack!"

The man cowered before his female superiors as he made a quick and ignominious exit out a nearby doorway.

"I never thought that women could do such things to a man," I said as I watched the group disband.

"Why?" Yvette replied. "Men have done far worse to women."

"Yes, but it doesn't make it right."

She didn't reply but I saw her mouth curve up into a slight smile.

"What?" I asked. "What is it?"

"Nothing. Come, we must leave now."

Taking my hand, she led me to another flight of stairs not far off from where we were standing. I was puzzled by that enigmatic, Mona Lisa-type smile she had given me, but she would not divulge what it was she was thinking, even when I pleaded with her to tell me.

"Some things are best left unsaid," she finally replied. "Leave it at that."

"Why? Did I do something to offend you?"

"No," she laughed. "You have behaved exactly as I expected you to behave."

"What does that mean?"

"Don't you know?" she replied, as if I possessed the power to read her mind.

The flight of stairs that led us to the next floor comprised all of twenty steps, for which my tired legs were most grateful. It was rather disconcerting to find that instead of an immense cavern-like environment, such as that which existed on the upper floors, this area was no larger in dimension that a small banquet hall. In fact, the room was laid out much like a dining room with tables full of all different kinds of food, prepared in such a way as to be reminiscent of a medieval feasting hall, and replete with a long dais upon which sat all sorts of delicacies. Lit torches adorned the marble walls and tapestries hung down from the rafters, emblazoned with the emblems of some unknown character. There were three chairs positioned on one side of the table facing us, and in them sat three men busily feeding themselves. They were, like their counterparts above, completely nude, and they said nothing to each other as they feasted in a most rapacious manner upon the food in front of them.

"Who are these men?" I asked Yvette.

"They are the betrayers," she replied solemnly. "By their treachery many Sisters have met their deaths."

"Why are they being treated so well then? I don't understand."

"You will."

Several women bearing whips then entered the room and began instructing the men to eat quickly.

"Hurry, hurry," one of the women said. "Your Mistress will not be pleased if you don't eat enough. Eat! Eat!"

And with those words she, and the rest of the women, began to whip each man in order to make him eat faster. It was a sickening sight to see each man gorge himself without restraint while being continuously whipped. I had never seen such an example of wanton gluttony in my life.

"How can they stand the pain?" I asked.

"Their need to eat is greater than their fear of the lash," Yvette replied.

Before my horrified eyes each man soon began to expand under the watchful eyes of his tormentors. In cartoon fashion, the huge gulps of food soon manifested themselves as increases in bodily dimension until all normal appearance had been lost, and all that remained were three human-looking beach balls.

"How can this be?" I uttered.

"Time is condensing," Yvette said with some alarm. "The vision is dissipating."

"This can't be real," I uttered, willing myself to wake up from this horrible nightmare. I forced myself to turn away.

"No! Don't look away!" she admonished me. "Keep your eyes open!"

Even as she spoke, the scene began to waver. Light, color, dimension...all were blending into each other in kaleidoscopic fashion until all that was visible was one great wash of white. But in that one instant before the final dissolution occurred, I saw someone, no...something jump out from the midst of it. A great golden thing that moved within the miasma, its huge jaws wide open and ready to engulf the naked prey below. And then I suddenly heard myself calling out to the unsuspecting men to flee. But, as they were now nothing more than oversized beach balls, all they could do was roll around on the floor in a mindless display of fear. And as I saw the great jaw close down upon the terrified victims, the whirling vortex began to increase with each second, and my screaming continued until I found myself face to face with the loathsome Beast, its hideous face half human and half something else, reaching out with its many arms toward me.

"No!" I screamed, instinctively raising my arms up to protect my head.

Suddenly my guide's hand swept before my face and the frightful apparition, so close to swallowing me up, withered away. And I heard Yvette's voice—distant, hollow, but still audible, as if the words were being carried on a breath of wind.

"Remember what you have witnessed..."

And then the white backdrop of condensed time exploded into a thousand tiny fragments and my eyes opened to stare into the blaze of the rising sun.

************

All of it had been a dream. As I lay in my bed, half my body straining out of the disheveled covers, I noticed that my pillow was wet with perspiration and my heart was beating rapidly in my chest. My arms had been thrown above my head as if to ward off a blow, and I knew that had I not woken up just then, I might have died in my sleep from the sheer fright of the powerful vision. Every sight, every nuance, every pitiable scream now came back to haunt me in vivid detail. And as I shielded my eyes from the harsh light of the morning sun, I was nonetheless glad for its brilliance, as it provided me with a welcome measure of solace for one who had just awoken from a dark and hellish nightmare.

I rose out of bed and prepared my bath, deciding that I would take my time and enjoy the feel of the water against my skin. As I bathed I thought about the poachers who had been apprehended in my dream. I could not fathom why I had dreamt such a thing until I remembered that my aunt Phoebe had complained to Lenore that she had been having trouble recently with poachers, and that my aunt had found an effective way of dealing with the problem. What solution she arrived at she never mentioned, so in my dream I must have filled in the gaps with my own idea of how to handle the problem. But no. I distinctly remember Angelique making a reference to people she referred to as "hired men" whom she had enlisted to trap these poachers, but this statement was made during the excitement of the night before, when my attention was being constantly diverted. I couldn't be sure if I had heard her correctly or if I had imagined the whole thing.

When I was finished dressing I went downstairs and found my aunt and Lenore sitting in the kitchen eating breakfast. My aunt was wearing a pair of white shorts, tennis sneakers, and a simple, blue blouse. Lenore was similarly dressed but she was wearing a pale pink halter-top. Two tennis racquets lay side by side on the counter top, and half-eaten eggs and toast remained on their plates.

"Well, you're up early today!" my aunt proclaimed as I made my entrance into the kitchen. "What would you like for breakfast?"

"What you're having is fine with me," I said, giving my aunt a kiss on the cheek.

My aunt told the cook to prepare breakfast for me as I sat down beside her.

"Good morning, Holly," Lenore said cheerfully. "Did you sleep well?"