The Mystery at Faldor Hotel Ch. 05

Part one

Having accompanied Nancy on so many of her adventurous mysteries that often demanded travel to some extent, Bess was no stranger to waking up without immediate knowledge of where she was. This time, however, was different because she found that coming to consciousness didn't happen as quickly as it normally did, and her mind's ability to remember where she'd fallen asleep floundered until she was able, with effort, to raise her head from the fluffy pillow it had been resting on.

She found herself in a sitting position, having been leaned forward with her head resting on the pillow that lay across a pair of handlebars. Her leather gloved hands were on the handle grips and, when she tried to remove them, found herself unable to because the gloves were stuck to the grips.

Though mental clarity was slowly returning, she still couldn't remember how she'd gotten there and, rather than concerned, she was more confused than anything. Giving her head a shake to clear the cobwebs from her mind only served to make her a bit dizzy. Her head lolled and that's when she realized that she was sitting on an exer-cycle. Her feet were in a pair of red leather boots with uppers that were zippered to the tops of her calves, the lower portions lashed securely to the pedals. The curved seat was adjusted high enough that it was impossible to raise her posterior or reposition herself on it and, without her skirt and panties, she clearly saw the crystal knob that only barely protruded from the seat, slightly parting the lips of her bare vagina. Her breath caught as her eyes couldn't fail to notice that it was really more of a conical shape with a rounded tip and a wide ridge that topped a shaft that, upon closer inspection, seemed to disappear down inside the seat post.

Then, in just her top and garters, her memory finally delivered the information her mind had been seeking as to what led up to this rather precarious position, the frantic and frightening game of hide and seek in the abandoned department store that ended in her capture a split second before freedom. She gasped and, in a sudden jolt of fear, the leg that was bent kicked downward and the crystal knob was suddenly pushed straight up inside of her tight vagina.

"Uuuaahhhh!?"

Her lower jaw dropped, eyes wide at the sudden sensation. Looking down between her legs again, she observed the length of crystal driven up inside her. There were raised, circular bumps all along the shaft and, from holes at the top of these bumps, some sort of warm, viscous, milky white fluid momentarily oozed.

"Ohhh! Oh my!" she moaned, caught between fear of her predicament and the very real pleasure of how the crystal phallus had felt ramming its way up inside her the way it had.

"Buzzz!"

Her mind almost completely back to normal now, Bess frantically looked up and around herself for the source of the buzzer. She found herself in a warm, dark room, a bright shaft of light from above illuminating her in much the same way as the holes in the ceiling of the department store only illuminated the spots on the floor where they landed. She couldn't see the rest of the room, only blackness, save for a spot-lit apparatus on a black painted wall approximately five feet in front of her.

From it, a belt stretched across the floor towards her before it disappeared in the intervening darkness, reappearing to wrap around the front wheel of her exer-cycle. At the base of the wall, the belt was connected to a double pulley. From the second pulley, another belt ran up the wall to another pulley with a sprocket attached to it. The widely spaced peg teeth of the sprocket were rather long and were designed to contact a lever jutting from the end of a plexiglass box. The box had holes in it so that several large rats inside wouldn't smother as they scurried around, looking for a way out. Another convenient purpose for the holes was that they allowed the rodents to smell the blood dripping steak that dangled outside the box. She noted how the ribs of the rats could be seen under their pelts and understood that they didn't only want out for the simple reason that they were trapped, but to get at the meat that hung maddeningly out of their reach, though they couldn't have reached it even if they were freed from the box. Above the plexiglass box, a camera was affixed to the wall, pointed at her. This particular bit of visual information, however, was quickly and easily skipped over when further study of the mechanism made it clear that, should the lever drop another three notches, the bottom of the plexiglass box would fall away. This would free the starving rats to find food which, obviously, wouldn't be the dangling meat...

To her horror, the lever dropped a notch with a, "buzzz!"

"Oh my gaaaawwd!" Bess groaned as she suddenly understood.

She kicked the pedal down the rest of the way and felt the crystal invader bunt her cervix. She paused with a howl of fear and pain that was somehow pleasurable, but started pedaling again in a jerky, stop and start manner. She gasped and moaned, her lower jaw trembling as her legs continued to slowly, haltingly fuck her with the oozing, crystal dildo.

"Uhh! Uhhh-hhh! Ohhhhh! Ohh-hhh!"

However, as Bess realized, her problems weren't quite solved yet. The pulley system was geared in such a way as that the sprocket moved rather slowly and, as she watched, the lever at the side of the box dropped once again with a terrorizing, "Buzzz!" There was only one more buzzer left before the bottom of the box would give way and, in a panic, Bess immediately started to pedal much faster.

"Ahhh-hhhhh! Uhh-hhhh! Aww-www-ww-wwwww!!"

As for the gearing of the crystal phallus, each complete cycle pushed the fluid seeping rod up inside her, then retracted it once. In her panic, she was suddenly averaging two cycles per second, moaning with pleasure and fear while the head plunged in and out, in and out, stretching and pounding her to a sort of surprising, painful enjoyment that she never would have imagined.

Keeping her eyes on the more quickly moving sprocket, she was soon further rewarded with a, "Pinggg!" as one of its pegs kicked the lever back up a notch.

"Yes! Yes! Ohh-h, yes! Uhhhhhh, yeaaaaaahhh!"

The warm lubrication that oozed from all the raised dimples of the crystal phallus was now running down the insides of her thighs, tickling her amidst a building pleasure as she kept pedaling to increase her comfort margin. At the same time, a sustained pleasure was building within Bess as her braless breasts jumped and jiggled in her top, erected nipples being brushed so pleasurably against its fabric.

It was the same pleasure she'd felt in Annabelle's, and a pleasure she'd felt while touching herself in bed at night, but was afraid to explore further as her parents were sleeping right across the hall, both bedroom doors wide open as usual. In addition, and as much as she wanted to, it seemed such a dirty and forbidden thing to touch one's own genetalia, stroking and poking like a naughty girl to make such new and previously unknown sensations. Now the level of these sensations had surpassed the intensity that she'd previously dared to achieve in her bed, even those that Ned's penis had given her at Lookout Point. What was more, her mind thrilled to how she was forced to do it to herself, how her control over this forbidden, exhilarating and horrifying sensation was subject to her fear of what would happen if she were to exercise that control and stop pedalling.

But this was an issue she couldn't examine at the moment, one that her mind wasn't capable of dissecting as said pleasure increased more and more until her upper body swayed back and forth, back arched as she groaned loud enough to almost miss the next "Pinggg!"

Without realizing it, she'd begun pedalling faster as she squeezed the handgrips, fucking herself as hard and fast as she could with no more thought to what was proper, what her parents would think. Soon, the rats all but forgotten and the last "Pinggg!" completely unheard, her eyes rolled, body flopping forward and back as though it were a whip as she found herself on the verge of the very first orgasm of her life.

And then, suddenly, Bess's excited vagina seemed to send an explosive signal to her brain, completely scrambling any sense it was capable of making and blotting out reality as she repeatedly cried out in climax.

"Ohhhh-h, gaaawwwd! OHHHHHH, GAAAAAWWWWWWD!! AHHHHH!! AHHHHH, FFUUUUUCK!! AHHHH-HHHHHHH!! OH MY FUUUUUUCK!!"

It was the buzzer that brought her out of her post orgasmic lull, the sound at once reminding her of her precarious situation as her head once again lifted from the pillow. Her mouth was open and she was drooling on her top, eyes focusing on the re-emerging reality of the plexiglass box and its contents. Somehow, she'd let two buzzers go by without even hearing the first one, leaving only three to go before...

Bess knew what had to be done. Her whimper of fear and helplessness was cut short by a halting moan as her legs started jerkily pedalling again, slowly at first until she again realized this wouldn't do. Already sensitive from her first orgasm, her vagina was even more susceptible to the pumping of the crystal Phallus, it's large head and all those wonderful dimples that so effectively lubricated and stimulated her insides.

"Uhhhhhhh! Ohhh-hhhh, ga-aaaa-aaawwwwd!

By the time she'd raised the lever back to the top, Bess was well on her way to a second orgasm, and this was when a thought managed to burst through the heavy, mind numbing curtain of her own forced self-pleasure. The only resistance the modified exer-cycle offered was the weight of the belt and pulley apparatus, which wasn't much at all. Conceivably, she could go on pedalling herself to these explosions of pleasure for... a while. Bess was no stranger to bicycles, still owned and rode one at home in River Heights and, thanks to her efforts at losing weight, was no stranger to exer-cycles either, the kind that had tension dialed into the front wheel. Despite this advantage, though, how long would it be before her legs got tired of simply pedalling? How many of these explosions of pleasure would she be forced to pedal her way to?

These thoughts and the reasoning required to answer the questions they spawned were soon blotted out by another orgasm. Again, she cried out in helpless ecstasy, tears of pleasure and fear running down her cheeks as perspiration began running down her forehead. The shocking waves of pleasure overload finally subsided enough that she could begin pedalling again, this time only having one buzzer to make up for.

Her snatch and the insides of her thighs were soaked with the ever oozing lube from the raised dimples of the crystal phallus and she could even hear and feel her feet squelching as it leaked down inside her boots. Looking down as she pedalled, she saw the stuff briefly squirt from the shaft, soaking the pillow and the base of the exer-cycle before the erupting dimples disappeared up inside her.

And it felt so good. The pain of the thick, far reaching crystal phallus had lessened now that her opening had adjusted to it and she found herself grinding her crotch into the seat, groaning and pedalling as fast as she could to her next mind bending orgasm.

By the time Bess got to pedalling again, she had two buzzers to make up for. More importantly, the question regarding how long she could keep this up had returned to her temporarily useful mind as she now moaned loudly and unendingly without even noticing the sound of her own voice. The first and immediate answer was that she'd go on pedalling as long as she had to in order to keep the starving rats secure in their plexiglass cell, until they starved right to death if need be. Her second answer was that it was a moot point because the frequent pleasure overloads she was giving herself were so good that she really didn't want to stop anyway. The third answer was borne of a more realistic place within her and stated that, even without any real resistance on the wheel of the exer-cycle, her legs would sooner or later get tired, too tired to go on pedalling her way to pleasure overload whether she liked them or not. When this happened, despite all the incredible self-pleasure and willpower she could muster, the rats would win. The only way this could be averted was if the person watching via the surveillance camera either got what he needed, or had enough of entertaining himself in this way before her legs finally gave out. However, this assumption depended on whether or not the person in question would have any mercy, whether or not this whole affair was to eventually see her attacked by the rats in any case.

It was the sobering possibilities embedded in Bess's third answer that gave her mind something to combat the joy of the crystal phallus with. Once she pedalled the lever to the top of the box again, allowing a full five buzzers until the rats could be released, she slowed her cycling to where the speed of the sprocket would only just maintain the lever's position. This slowed her legs, hopefully allowing them to last much longer, but she noticed with some guilty alarm that she had to force herself to maintain this speed, to not speed her way to another enjoyable pleasure overload. Having been keeping her eyes from the plexiglass box, she now forced herself to look at it, this being the only defence against her strong temptation to exert herself to a sexual frenzy by pedalling faster.

However, her slower pace didn't prevent more orgasms, but only slowed down their frequency and made it possible to think a little more clearly between them. The new question on her mind was of who would want to do this to her? Was it Billybob, the inbred, local yokel? Perhaps the tall man in the denim overalls? Were they recording this whole thing to use as a rental video at Annabelle's Boutique?

The last question was the one she really didn't want to contemplate, that being the unthinkable possibility that whoever was on the other end of the camera wanted to see what would happen once the rats were freed. In the back of her mind, Bess knew that even her slower pace could only put off the inevitable exhaustion that would force her to stop or pass out. It was only a matter of time.

Three more orgasm's later, her hair was plastered to her head as her perspiration soaked top clung to her chest and back. It was getting harder to think straight and her moans had taken on a deeper tone, a more husky quality that turned to a mindless, broken wail upon climax. Worst of all, her legs were starting to get tired. She had no idea how long she'd been pedaling and had lost count of how many pleasure overloads she'd experienced. Sometimes it seemed like a stretch of time would go by that she couldn't remember, lost in bucking, squirming, groaning ecstasy until some semblance of awareness would return, no matter how briefly.

On one of these occasions, the sharp sound of the buzzer snapped her back to attention and, looking at the plexiglass ratbox, she realized that she only had one more buzzer to go before the bottom, figuratively and quite literally, fell out. She looked down to discover that she'd stopped pedalling altogether and had been just sitting there in a sort of delirium. With a high pitched whimper, she got going again, the whimper turning to a wail of pleasure as her sudden high speed cycling began just as suddenly fucking her fast and hard. Her legs seemed a little rested but, by the time she's worked the lever to the top of the box again, having two more orgasms in the process, they felt as tired as they had been. Resolving to keep her eyes on the ratbox for motivational purposes, she once again slowed down to a sustainable pace.

From here on, Bess's only reality was pleasure overload and fear. Rational thought existed as an ideal in her locked up mind, a quality that she half remembered and prized, but was no longer able to claim for herself.

Sometime later, after her legs were finally burnt out, after losing her ability to even remember why she was cycling in the first place, she simply sat on the exer-cycle, staring at the ratbox. Sweat soaked, slack jawed and drooling, she watched the lever fall notch by notch, buzzer by buzzer until, once again, there was only one buzzer left. It seemed an eternity as she waited for it, glassy eyed and knowing what would happen, but no longer fully able to appreciate the horrifying, personal ramifications of the final buzzer.

"Buzzz!"

With the last audio warning, the lever fell and... nothing happened. The starving rats continued to drool over the hanging meat as the bottom of the plexiglass box stayed fixed to the sides of their transparent cell. She could hear someone laughing, at first a mere, mindless giggling, but soon turning to mad gales of hysterical laughter. Only when she was losing consciousness, her upper body flopping forward so that her head could again rest on the pillow, did she realize that the laughter was her own.

Part two

When Bess awoke, she was reclining in cool darkness. Unlike waking up on the exer-cycle, her senses and awareness returned to her mind almost immediately and, with a start, she bolted upright, eyes wide and searching her surroundings for some threat. By the starlight, she found herself outside, behind Ricki's Supermarket and surrounded by the abandoned carts and other junk she'd seen there earlier, lying on a cheap, foldable lawn recliner. The sun had gone down and, other than distant wind chimes, the world seemed eerily still and quiet.

When her memory of the exer-cycle leaked into her mind, she almost refused to believe it was real, that it wasn't some twisted dream. Looking down, the fact that she was wearing her skirt seemed to prove it and, until she swung her legs over the side of the recliner, she almost did believe it all to be a dream. They were sore. Very sore, as were her buttocks, and she knew the cause of their condition. While she couldn't remember every detail of her experience in the warm room with the rats and the dreaded buzzer, she remembered enough to get her the rest of the way off the lounger, stumbling around in the debris littered, semi-darkness and around the corner.

She had no idea what time it was but, by the time she reached the front of the supermarket, she found her mind to be more and more occupied by the returning memory of multiple orgasms. Taking a rest with one hand on the corner of the building, the eighteen year old blonde swayed a little as the fear and humiliation of what had happened were equalled out by the memory of extreme pleasure. Even while pedalling on the exer-cycle, that forced self-pleasure had taken her mind from the perceived, clear and present danger of the rats. Incredibly, staggering away from the supermarket, she found herself to be aroused by it. And it wasn't just the incredibly intense physical feel of the crystal phallus, but also the fact that it was forced, that she was forced to do it to herself and love it.

As though the event were from another lifetime, she then remembered what had happened in Annabelle's Boutique, that establishment now closed and as dark as all the rest along the silent road. Recalling how the two men had fondled her while stroking their hard penises, she became even more aroused, once again wondering where all that would have led had she not stopped them.

Finally, when she started ascending the wide concrete steps of the Faldor Hotel with legs barely able to make the climb, something else occurred to her. She seemed to remember talking to someone. Or were they talking to her? It was in a different room than the one with the exer-cycle and the rats, and she had the distinct impression that this conversation had happened after those events, but she couldn't recall exactly what all was said. Pausing at the top of the steps, once again resting her legs with her hand on the door handle of the great, heavy door of the Faldor to help support herself, she searched her memory for clarification.