Walter and holly are taken to The After Hours Social Club where they participate in a couple of very interesting contests.
This is a long story at over 9,000 words. The preparation in advance for the visit to the club involves some difficult, almost punishment, enemas, etc, but there is no scat play or anything like that. At the club walter is involved primarily in M/m sex. If any of that turns you off, you can catch the next chapter, Chapter 08, which will be, I hope, the last chapter of this saga.
This story stands on its own, but makes a little more sense if you have read the previous chapters.
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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.
If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.
Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2018 by The Technician.
Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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One day in early August, right after breakfast, Mistress Gloria said to Mistress Sam and Mistress Cheryl, “What do you think about going to the club tomorrow night?”
She didn’t ask me or holly or puddy tat or tracy. Our opinion didn’t matter anyway.
“Do we have the masks with us?” Mistress Cheryl asked.
“New masks for you, weird worm, and tracy arrived yesterday,” Mistress Gloria replied.
“What masks?” I whispered very quietly to holly.
At least I thought I was very quiet. Mistress Gloria turned to me and said firmly, “You will find out soon enough, worm.”
Holly looked at me and shook her head indicating I should remain quiet, so we both just settled back onto our legs and remained kneeling alongside the Mistresses’ table.
The next morning before breakfast, Mistress Gloria summoned us all to the back porch and had us stand at attention. “We are going to the club tonight. You will eat no solid food today. There are special energy drinks in the pantry. You may also drink all the water you want. In fact, I want you to make sure that you are totally hydrated. After lunch, you will come back here and prepare each other while Mistress Sam, Mistress Cheryl, and I supervise.” She looked up and down the four of us and then asked loudly, “Is that understood?”
“Yes, Mistress Gloria,” we all shouted back in unison.
I tried to ask holly several times what prepared meant, but each time she just smiled and said, “You’ll see.”
After we had served the Mistresses lunch, we knelt next to the table while they sat around for a little while talking. Around one o’clock, Mistress Sam stood up and said, “It’s time.”
Holly and puddy tat shot to their feet. Tracy and I did the same and then followed as holly walked back into the cabin and through the kitchen to the back porch. Just off the porch was an open shower that could be used for rinsing the sand off your body, if necessary, before entering the cabin. There was also an old outhouse farther out. It wasn’t used anymore, but was kept as a reminder of more primitive days at the beach.
“Let’s start with cleaning the outside,” Mistress Gloria said with a slight chuckle.
Puddy tat scampered inside and returned shortly with a small plastic storage bin. In it were several cans of shaving cream and a bunch of disposable razors.
“Get each other lathered up first,” Mistress Sam ordered and puddy tat handed each of us a can of shaving cream.
I started to put some on my face, but Mistress Cheryl said curtly, “Not on yourself, worm. You were commanded to get each other lathered up. You put the shaving cream on one of the others.”
“Oh,” I said weakly and turned to where holly, puddy tat, and tracy were standing in a small circle rubbing the shaving cream all over each others’ bodies. I started smearing a thick layer of the cream on holly’s back and ass and legs.
“Everywhere!” commanded Mistress Gloria and I began rubbing the cream between holly’s ass cheeks and between her legs.
Suddenly, I felt a cold sensation as puddy tat began covering my back with the cream. It felt cold as she first put it on and then it felt even colder as the menthol in it started working on my skin. The menthol was supposed to make your hair stand up better, but I think the mistresses used it because it started to get really uncomfortable if it was left on too long.
“Stand for blind inspection once you think you have everything covered,” Mistress Sam said as we appeared to be almost finished.
When we were done, we stood in a line at the edge of the porch with our eyes closed while all three Mistresses walked slowly around us. Before I closed my eyes, I saw that they were each holding one of the cans of shaving cream. Every so often, one of them would say, “Missed a spot,” and squirt a big glob of cream onto our bodies. Holly yelped when they pressed the can against her ass cheeks and sprayed a big blob of shaving cream down her ass crack. I yelped even louder when they covered my prick and balls with a new, thick layer of the menthol-laden cream.
After a while, the Mistresses were satisfied and apparently, at least from the sound of their footsteps, went to sit down on the beach chairs we had set up. They didn’t order us to do anything, though, so we just stood there for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably about fifteen minutes.
Finally, Mistress Gloria said, “OK.”
That’s all she said, but holly whispered to me, “Open your eyes and grab one of the razors.”
I did and then holly said, “We are all supposed to do each other at the same time.”
I looked at her dumbly until she added, “Get in a circle. You do me; I do puddy tat; puddy tat does tracy; and tracy does you.”
“Oh,” I said as I moved to where she had indicated and started scraping the shaving cream– and perhaps a hair or two– from holly’s back. I don’t know where Mistress Gloria got this shaving cream, but it was still thick and foamy even after so long. Tracy, meanwhile, was shaving my back. I don’t have any hair back there, but she was at least scraping away the shaving cream.
“Left side,” whispered holly and we all turned so that our left side was facing the person shaving us. It felt kind of weird to reach out to shave holly while she was shaving puddy tat, but, again, holly doesn’t really have any hair on her body.
“Front,” holly whispered after a while and we again turned, except that we were all, once again, facing someone’s back.
“Walter and puddy turn back around,” holly whispered and we did. “Do me and tracy first,” she added, “then we will do you.”
After we finished them, we all turned around and they did us. That meant that tracy was doing my front, which included my balls and prick. I started to get hard as she was holding me so she could get the hairs on my balls and she giggled.
“This would be a lot easier if I had made the hair removal permanent while I had the chance,” she said. Then she looked up at me and smiled. I just stood there and turned redder.
After we were finished in front, we turned and very awkwardly– at least for me– did the right sides of the next person with our left hands. If there had been any hair, I doubt if I would have really shaved it off, but at least I didn’t cut tracy.
I thought we were finished, but holly whispered, “Wild crack hairs... same as for the fronts.”
I wasn’t sure what she meant, but when she faced away from me and bent over as far as she could, I got it. I very carefully used the razor to get any hairs that might be around her asshole. There weren’t any. I knew there wouldn’t be, but this was evidently what the Mistresses wanted done. Besides, when it was my turn to bend down, tracy did actually shave a few small hairs off of me. She also pulled down on my ball sack and carefully shaved the back side of it. That felt really weird, especially when she kept changing direction to get everything smooth.
After we all stood back up, Mistress Sam ordered, “Rinse off,” and we stepped over to the shower. I had never used it before so I didn’t know that there was no hot water to this shower. Holly jumped in first followed quickly by puddy tat and then tracy. By the time I got to the shower, it was pumping very cold water all over my body. I heard holly giggle slightly as I yelped and shivered while I tried to get any remaining foam off my body.
“Now the insides,” Mistress Gloria said firmly.
Holly went back over to where we had stood for inspection and knelt down facing the cabin. Her feet were actually off the edge of the porch. Then she leaned forward until her head was on the floor of the porch with her hands– and elbows– flat on the boards alongside it. Her ass was pointing almost straight up in the air. Puddy tat and tracy joined her almost immediately. I took my place a little slower, waiting to see what it was that I was supposed to do.
“We’ll start with a warm soap solution,” Mistress Sam said. “And we’ll start with holly.”
She then laughed slightly to herself as she hung an enema bag from a hook under the front of the porch roof. There was a long chain attached to the bag. She changed which link was on the hook a couple of times to adjust the height of the bag.
“I think six inches above your ass should be about right for the first bag,” she said almost laughing.
Her voice suddenly turned very firm and angry-sounding as she barked out, “Forehead on the floor, worm. You’ll know what is happening when it happens to you.”
I put my head back in the proper position where all I could see was the board under my head. I could hear holly grunting slightly. Mistress Gloria said “There’s only a little more. I know you can take it all.” She sounded like she was encouraging a puppy to behave properly.
“There you go,” she said finally. “It’s all inside you. Now all you have to do is keep it there for five minutes.”
I must have risen up slightly in shock because Mistress Sam barked out, “Head on the floor, worm!”
I slammed my head back down so fast that it made a loud “thunk” as it hit the floor. I could hear puddy tat giggling, but I wasn’t about to turn my head to look at her. Then she yelped slightly. Mistress Gloria must have started on her. I could hear her grunting as the warm liquid filled her insides, but she was evidently not having any problems because I didn’t hear Mistress Gloria having to encourage her.
“Good girl,” Mistress Gloria finally said. “You took the whole two quarts.”
This time I forced my head to stay on the floor. There was a loud beep from a timer and Mistress Gloria said, “Slave holly, you may use the outhouse.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” holly said as she jumped up and nearly ran to the little shack. I could hear a thud as she dropped down on the wooden bench with the two toilet-shaped cutouts. I could then hear water splashing into the pit beneath the outhouse.
After a while, I heard the shower running. Evidently holly was washing herself off. Shortly thereafter, the timer beeped again and Mistress Gloria said, “Slave puddy tat, you may use the outhouse.”
Puddy tat must have more control because she didn’t run to the outhouse. I heard a sharp smack and nearly pulled my forehead up off the floor. “Don’t tense up like that tracy,” Mistress Gloria snapped. “You know better than that. Relax and let it flow into your or I will raise the bag all the way up.” She paused and then added in a loud whisper, “... like you used to do.”
Tracy gave a low moan that wasn’t pain and wasn’t passion. All I could think of was that she was questioning whether she was truly a slave. “If you take it all like a good little slave,” Mistress Cheryl said in an exaggeratedly sweet voice, “I’ll let you masturbate yourself to climax while you wait for the timer to beep.”
Tracy moaned again. This time it was passion, or at least a moan of need. I risked turning my head slightly so I could see tracy. She was now rippling her stomach muscles and doing something weird with her breathing. Whatever she was doing evidently helped pull the enema into her intestines because the bag emptied in almost no time after that.
As soon as Mistress Gloria pulled the nozzle out of tracy’s ass, she said, “You have five minutes, starting now.”
Tracy flopped over onto her back and put her hands between her legs. She was pushing the fingers of one hand in and out of her cunt while the fingers of the other hand swirled around, stroked, and tweaked her clit.
She was just starting to thrash and twist like she was going to orgasm when I suddenly felt a pressure in my bowels. Mistress Gloria laughed a couple of times and then said, “Worm, you are still a male. Watching a woman get herself off distracts you enough that you didn’t notice I put an enema nozzle in your ass.”
I hated to admit it, but she was right. With tracy squirming and moaning right next to me, I didn’t notice when she started the enema.
Then the timer beeped.
“That’s five minutes,” Mistress Cheryl said firmly.
“No, no, noooo,” moaned tracy.
“I’m in a good mood,” Mistress Gloria said. “You can finish yourself off in the outhouse.”
As slave tracy ran for the outhouse, Mistress Gloria smacked my ass lightly and said, “Then you won’t have anything to take your mind off the business at hand.”
She then pulled the nozzle out of my ass and said, “Five minutes.”
I’m usually pretty good at telling time, but I could have sworn that five minutes were up at least seven times while I was kneeling waiting for that timer to ring. Finally it beeped and Mistress Gloria said, “Slave worm, you may use the outhouse.”
I immediately took off running except there was a little problem. Tracy was still in there trying to get herself off a second time.
Luckily, it was a two-holer. Tracy was using the smaller of the two holes, so I plopped down on the larger one. You would think that sitting right next to a girl who is frigging herself to a big orgasm would be exciting, but between getting that soapy water out of me and keeping my skinny ass from falling through into the shit pit, I really didn’t notice. By the time I was finished, she was gone. I went over and rinsed myself off and then stood in line on the porch with the others.
We stood there facing the cabin until Mistress Gloria said, “Second round.”
Holly dropped to her knees and the rest of us followed. It was the same procedure except
Mistress Gloria moved the chain that held the bags up a couple of links and it was warm, clear water. It went in a lot easier since there was nothing left in there– or so I thought until I got to run to the outhouse and empty myself. A lot more than just water came out.
The third round was hot clear water, with the bag again up a couple of links. It wasn’t burning hot, but it was close. It was as hot as I could stand and a lot hotter than I would have done myself– ever– but I was able to hold it in for the required five minutes before running to the outhouse to expel it. Surprisingly, it still felt really hot on my asshole going out. Another surprise was that there was still stuff going out with it.
I figured we were done after that, but Mistress Gloria yelled out, “Round Four,” and we all again knelt on the porch. I heard her telling Mistress Cheryl, “Remember, oil holds and transfers heat a lot better than water so you have to be more careful with the heat.”
I knew she was talking to Mistress Cheryl, because Mistress Cheryl replied, “I know. I was on the other end of the nozzle last time, remember?”
Mistress Gloria just laughed and said, “But you weren’t looking at the thermometer. Don’t let it get above eighty-five for round four and one hundred for round five.”
I knew it was going to be oil, but I didn’t know how warm it was going to feel. It wasn’t hot, but it stayed warm inside me and the warmth seemed to be moving up... and up... and up inside me. I really wanted to get it out of me and was sort of moving my legs as I knelt there waiting.
“I should tell you to keep still,” Mistress Sam said, “but your little ass looks so cute when you are wiggling around that I think I will just let you move.”
That kept me quieter than anything else she could have said. I think I was able to remain almost totally still for the rest of the time until Mistress Gloria said I could run to the outhouse.
Round five was really hard. That oil was hot. Again, not burning hot, but HOT and it stayed hot for the whole five minutes. On top of that, Mistress Gloria set a plastic five-gallon bucket on the ground next to the outhouse and told us that we had to put the oil in there first.
I wasn’t sure what she meant by first, but I soon found out. After holly sort of sat / squatted over the bucket and emptied the hot oil into it, she picked up the bucket and carried it over to Mistress Sam. Mistress Sam looked in it and said, “Clear.” Then she ordered, “Dump it in the outhouse and sit in there for five minutes to make sure you are empty.”
Puddy tat and tracy did the same, but when it came for me, Mistress Sam looked down into the bucket and frowned. “Sorry, worm,” she said softly, “you need a round six.”
I stood there with my mouth and eyes wide open looking at her. The oil looked clear to me.
“Snap out of it, walter,” she said firmly, “empty the bucket and get back in position.”
I walked over to the outhouse and poured the oil down the larger hole. Tracy was still sitting there on the smaller hole watching me. Then I went back to the porch and knelt down. In a few minutes, Mistress Gloria was again inserting the nozzle.
The oil was again hot, and this time it was even harder to hold in. I know I was almost dancing on my knees by the end of the five minutes. Meanwhile, the three Mistresses as well as holly, tracy, and puddy tat were watching me and giggling.
At the end of five minutes, Mistress Gloria said, “You can go straight to the outhouse, walter.” That’s when I knew that they had made me do a round six just so they could watch me squirm. I maybe should have been mad, but they are the Mistresses and I am their slave. If I thought it was really going to damage me in some way, I could have used my safe word, but it was just the Mistresses having a little fun.
By the time I finally came out of the outhouse, holly, tracy, and puddy tat had everything cleaned up and put away. We were then given a few hours of free time, which we spent swimming. After an early supper for the Mistresses, Mistress Gloria told us, “Make yourselves presentable for tonight. I want you dressed in just your collars and a black coverup.”
We hurried and cleaned up the kitchen and then went to our rooms. “What does she mean?” I asked holly.
Holly giggled at me and said, “She means proper makeup... at least around the eyes and mouth.”
“What?” I sputtered. “I don’t know how to put on makeup!”
“I’ll do yours,” holly replied.
The lipstick was OK. The eye shadow and eye liner wasn’t too bad. But the mascara was terrible. I’ve never had anyone put anything on my eyelashes before.
“I don’t need mascara,” I protested. “I have big, dark, eyelashes.
“Besides,” I continued, “it will just end up smeared all over my face.”
“That’s the whole point,” holly replied. “Mascara– especially the cheap stuff like this– will run when you cry. You end up with big dark splotches running down your face... or whatever.”
“I don’t get it,” I said.
“How else,” she continued, “can the audience know that you are actually crying and not just yelling in pleasure?”
“Oh,” I said. Then it hit me. “Are we going to be on stage tonight?”
Holly laughed. “We will be part of the featured entertainment,” she said, continuing to laugh. “I wonder what they have in mind for tonight?”
I was going to ask holly more about the club, but Mistress Gloria shouted from the other room, “Are you two ready yet?”
“Sorry, Mistress,” holly replied, “but walter has never used makeup before and I had to put it on him.”
“I want you dressed and ready in two minutes,” Mistress Gloria replied. She didn’t sound angry, but she did sound upset.
Holly and I hurried to finish. It wasn’t until holly pulled a black dress-like cape over herself that I realized what I was supposed to wear.
“Am I supposed to wear a dress in public?” I asked. I think my panic showed in my voice.
“Not exactly,” holly replied as she picked up our masks from the mattress. She quickly put hers on, then turned around and said, “Zip me.”
There was a zipper down the back of the mask. I pulled it into place and she turned back around to face me. The mask was white leather of some sort. On the top of her forehead, the number 173 was branded into the leather. It appeared as a dark brown against the white. All that showed of her face were her eyes and mouth.
She held up my mask. It was identical, except that my number was 341. Reaching up slightly, she slipped it carefully over my head and then said curtly, “Turn around.” I did and she zipped the mask closed in the back. It fit very closely against my skin and came under my chin and fit close against my neck. There was no way it would accidentally come off.
While I was still facing away from her, holly slipped the black coverup over me. I don’t care what you call it, it was a dress. I thought for a moment about arguing about it. Then realized that my face was totally concealed, and with the makeup on my eyes and lips, I probably looked like a girl anyway. I gave a deep sigh and said, “Let’s go.” We made it out to the living room with just a few seconds to spare.
Puddy tat and tracy were already in the living room. They were kneeling in the at ease position so I was able to see their masks as I scampered into the room. Puddy tat was 203 and Tracy was 359. I was surprised at first that tracy’s number was larger than mine, but then I realized that they must have ordered my mask before tracy fell from Mistress to slave.
“Time to get going,” Mistress Sam said almost angrily. “We are running late.”
Mistress Sam has this van that is outfitted as a camper. We all piled into the back, except Sam. She got into the driver’s seat. She was dressed in a dark pantsuit of some sort. Mistress Gloria and Mistress Cheryl were dressed in black leather. Mistress Gloria was wearing a full catsuit. Mistress Cheryl was wearing what looked like a leather one-piece swimsuit with dark, fishnet stockings. The black thread of the fishnets really didn’t show against Mistress Cheryl’s black skin, but they were very tight and created a diamond pattern that did show. Both Mistress Cheryl and Mistress Gloria were wearing full masks very similar to what holly and I were wearing except that they were black. The numbers on their masks were imprinted in gold. Mistress Gloria was number 011. Mistress Cheryl was number 219.
It took us about forty-five minutes to drive into town. We pulled into an underground parking garage and Mistress Sam said, “Our ride’s already here.”
There was a small bus sitting in one of the parking places. It pulled out and she pulled in, then we all transferred to the bus. Mistress Sam took a few minutes in the back of the van to change into her leathers for the night. When she came out of the van, she was wearing a leather catsuit similar to Mistress Gloria’s. As fast as she had changed, I think she had it on under the pantsuit. She was also now wearing a black mask. Her number was 009.
“What’s going on?” I asked holly once we were sitting in the back of the bus.
“Secrecy,” she whispered back. “No one is supposed to know who any of the other members are.”
“Quiet in the back,” Mistress Sam barked, so I didn’t ask anything else.
The windows were very darkly-tinted, so I couldn’t tell where we were going, but we rode for an hour or more in silence. It wasn’t until much later that I found out that the whole name for the club is The After Hours Social Club and it is located way out in the middle of the woods about fifty miles from town. It used to be some super-secret government installation. Once I knew where it was, I looked it up on a network map program. There is only one road leading out for miles through the trees to get there. I even used the satellite view, but all I could see was trees... except there were these strange square paths cut in the trees all around the house. Zooming in closer, I could see that those cut areas were actually fences, one inside the other. There were four of them. The last one was strange-looking. It was smooth wire on slanted wooden poles. The house itself was blurred out with a little message that said, “Restricted Area, do not enter. Lethal force authorized.” That was all left over from when the government owned it... I think. Mistress said that some really powerful people were members.
Like I said, I found out all of that later. That night, all I could see through the tinted windows was blackness. Once we got away from the lights of town there was nothing. As far as I knew as we were driving out there, we could have been on the dark side of the moon. Then, looking up through the front of the bus, I could see some lights up ahead. We pulled up to a large covered portico and the bus driver opened the doors. “Masters and Mistresses first!” she said gruffly.
Mistress Sam was the first to get off the bus. I heard someone– a man– call out, “Mistress Nine! What a pleasure to have you with us tonight.”
Then the same voice continued a little less loudly, “Mistress Eleven, Mistress Two Nineteen, welcome to the club.”
He then added, “I understand your slaves will be part of the entertainment tonight.”
I looked over at holly. She just shrugged her shoulders and pushed me toward the door. As I stepped down from the bus, I could see that there was a uniformed doorman standing with the Mistresses. His uniform looked like he could have been standing in front of any major hotel or apartment building, but his head was covered with a gray mask. I noted that there was no number on the forehead of the mask. Instead, there was a nametag on his uniform which said, “Max.”
Neither Max nor the Mistresses paid any attention to us as we got off the bus. Instead, a man and a woman in what looked like bell hop uniforms hurried over to us. Both had gray masks over their heads. The nametag on the man said, “Bad.” The nametag on the woman said, “Worse.”
Bad said roughly. “Take off your covers and follow me.”
We followed him to a side door and down a long hallway. Worse followed behind us. At the end of the hallway was what looked like a narrow cloakroom with clothing hooks on the walls. There was a small white board above each of the hooks.
“Find your number and hang up your covers,” he growled, “then follow Worse.”
I leaned over to holly and whispered, “We just went from Bad to Worse.”
I expected her to at least smile, but instead she leaned close to me and whispered, “That’s not a joke. That’s the truth.”
She smiled when my eyes went wide beneath my mask.
Worse led us down another long hallway into a fairly dark room with some really strange machines in it. They were huge and looked like giant wire mesh wheels. Worse opened a door on the side of one of them and pushed me inside. She then strapped my hands to the center axle of the wheel and attached stick-on electrodes to my chest right over my nipples. When I whimpered slightly she said very curtly, “You’ve got it easy. The girls have weighted nipple clamp electrodes.”
There was also a small computer screen attached to the center that showed six vertical bars labeled one through six.
“You’re number three,” Worse said sharply. She tapped my hands and the electrodes on my chest. “The power of the pulses depends on your place in the race,” she added. “First place gets level one pulses; second gets level two; and so forth.”
She then got out of the wheel and pushed holly into the wheel next to me. She was strapped in the same way I was... except for the nipple clamp electrodes. Puddy tat eventually ended up on the other side of me. I never knew where tracy ended up or who the other two were in the wheels, but after about a half-hour or so standing there in the dark, a curtain opened in front of us and I was suddenly blinded by very bright spotlights.
A very tall, very thin man in a tuxedo– and, of course, a gray mask– stepped out onto the front of the stage. “For your entertainment tonight,” he called out in a very smooth, almost singing voice, “our first presentation shall be a hamster race.”
He waited while the spotlights flashed back and forth across the six of us. “Remember,” he continued, “this is a timed race. It will last for fifteen minutes. That means there are two classes of betting. One is to bet on who finished in first place... and second... and third. The other bet is to guess how far the winner ran before the end of the race.” He paused and then added, “There are, of course, some specialized bids for the more adventurous among us tonight, but you can see all those posted at the betting windows.” He pointed over to a side wall.
“Or,” he said, turning back to fully face the audience and pointing to a naked young woman walking between the tables, “you can check the bet sheets hanging from the tits of the in-house runners who will carry your bets to the windows.”
He stepped over to the first wheel and said, “Each wheel is eight feet in diameter, so each rotation of the wheel is approximately twenty-five feet. That means it takes two hundred ten rotations to make a mile.”
He laughed a very deep laugh. “For those of you who want to just watch the hamsters jump and twitch, eight pulses are delivered during each rotation. That means for every mile, there will be over sixteen hundred pulses.”
I was pulling at the restraints holding me to the center axle, but it was useless. There was no way I could escape. I was strapped to some sort of tube so that my hands could slip as the wheel rotated, but I was held fast. The display was also attached to a tube with a big weight, possibly its battery pack, sticking down below and keeping it upright. I looked over at holly. She was all calm, taking deep breaths, relaxing herself like she was about to go out for an evening run.
“Just so our hamsters have the proper motivation,” the emcee crooned out, “this is a level one pulse.”
I jumped slightly as I felt a mild shock go through my hands and feet.
“And this is level three,” he said.
I twitched even harder. This time I felt the shock all the way through my body, especially around my nipples.
“And this is a level six pulse,” he said. His voice was very firm and didn’t sound at all musical.
I yelped as my entire body went stiff. I felt water on my feet and legs as I lost control of my bladder.
“Of course,” the emcee said with a slight laugh, “if the hamster is running, the shock is nowhere near as severe.”
He then turned to us and said, “While the bets are being placed, it would be best if you kept walking so your muscles are warmed up for the race.” He chuckled slightly and added, “the computer controller is set to warmup so the pulses will be locked at level one until the start of the race.”
I really wanted to say “Thanks a lot” in a real snarky voice, but I knew that would embarrass my Mistress so I said nothing. Instead, I started walking slowly. Every two or three steps I felt a slight tingle on my hands and feet. I tried timing it and skipping up just as the pulse was about to occur, but I ended up almost being dragged around by the wheel.
Everyone laughed as I struggled to get back on my feet properly and start walking again. The emcee came up to my wheel and said harshly, “Try that again slave three-four-one and your wheel will be set at level six for the whole race.” I figured it was best to not reply, but just keep walking.
We kept walking for at least fifteen minutes. After a while, I barely noticed the shocks at all. Then there was a loud “Thunk!” and all the wheels stopped turning.
“Are you ready for a race?” the emcee asked the audience. They responded with cheers and shouts.
He then turned to face us and said loudly, “Three... two... one... RACE!”
I started running as fast as I could and to my amazement, the screen in front of me said I was in first place. My joy quickly evaporated, however, as I realized that I was running full out and couldn’t keep up that pace for very long– definitely not for fifteen minutes. I slowed down to a pace I could maintain. As I slowed, I fell back to second, and then third, and then fourth place.
With each position I lost, the pulses became stronger. I again tried to time things so that I might get both feet in the air at the same time during a pulse, but all that did was cause me to stumble slightly. By the time I got back to running properly, I was in sixth place.
I tried for a burst of speed and made it back up to fourth place. Then I decided that if I pushed myself up on the axle bar and got both feet off the wheel, I would get a short respite from the shocks.
That was REALLY the wrong thing to do. Evidently, the very center of the axle bar where the display sits is somehow connected to the wheel itself, so the next time the pulse hit, my feet were off the wheel, but my groin was against the axle bar.
I screamed, dropped my feet back onto the wheel, stumbled, and then got back to running. I could hear people laughing at me. I could also see through the wire of the wheel that several people were pointing at me. I didn’t think it was funny and besides, I was back in sixth place.
I knew I couldn’t win, but I wasn’t going to lose. I forced myself to speed up and kept pushing myself until I was in third place. Then I concentrated on staying at that pace. My lungs were on fire and my whole body hurt. I decided that if I went into the pain like I did when Mistress Gloria was punishing me I might be able to keep running at that pace.
I thought it was working, but then I heard a loud bell and my wheel started slowing down real hard like someone was applying a brake. I looked down at the computer screen and it was flashing a final order. Even though I had kept running at the same pace, everyone else had sped up as we approached the end of the race. I had finished dead last.
They took us out of the wheels and brought us out into the audience to be with our Mistresses. I immediately knelt down in front of Mistress Gloria with my forehead flat on the floor. “I’m sorry, Mistress,” I wailed out. “I failed you.”
“Don’t worry three-four-one,” she said with a laugh, “you made me quite a bit of money.”
I looked up at her in shock.
“I’ve seen you run,” she said, still smiling, “and I knew you couldn’t run for shit.” Her face hardened and her voice became rough as she continued, “And I knew that despite now being a slave, 359 is as competitive as hell. So, I did a first-last bet. Everyone thought that because she was a degraded Mistress, she wouldn’t try. And they thought that because you were a male, you would run faster... or at least wouldn’t lose ” She laughed slightly again before saying, “I knew better.”
I knelt there with my head down as the emcee said with great enthusiasm, “Our winning hamster this evening was slave three-five-nine.” He then lowered his voice “And our loser was the wimp, sissy slave, three-four-one.” He voice then became very contemptuous as he practically spat out, “If it were up to me, I would make him the club’s slave zero.”
“But it’s not up to you,” Mistress Gloria said loudly and firmly. “He is my slave; he is loyal to me; and he is an important part of my slave network.”
I looked over at holly and mouthed, “Slave network?”
She giggled silently and mouthed back, “You keep me happy and I keep the Mistress happy.”
There was a loud snap and both holly and I looked up at our Mistress. She was glaring down at us and holding her hand like she had just snapped her fingers.
She smiled a very cold smile at us both and said, “And they will both do much better in the beautiful butt contest.”
She watched as holly gasped and I looked back at her wide-eyed, not knowing what she meant.
“I wasn’t going to enter them,” she said evenly, “but they have just displeased me and I will enjoy seeing their beautiful butts displayed for everyone’s amusement.”
Actually, it was called, “The Cutest Ass Contest,” and like about everything else at the club, there were six contestants. I have no idea who the others were... except holly. But I didn’t even know which one she was because I couldn’t see anything once they got me prepared. When we went backstage, Mistress Gloria was leading holly and Mistress Sam was leading me. They had attached leashes to our collars just to add to the humiliation.
Mistress Sam strapped me into this really strange-looking thing with a lot of padded shelves. I’m not exactly sure how it worked, but I ended up strapped over one of the shelves with my knees on another and my arms crossed above my head on another. Then they cranked a bunch of handles and turned me almost upside down so that my ass was really high in the air.
At that point, Mistress Sam said, “Time to add a little decoration to help you win.”
She came around in front of me and showed me four paddles. One had really sharp ridges on it that stuck up almost an half-inch from the paddle itself. Those ridges would really cut and bruise your ass. The second was divided long-ways into three segments. The center segment was leather while the outer two segments were wood. The center segment was slightly longer and had little pyramid-shaped metal things near the end of the leather. Evidently the wood would hit first and then the leather with the metal. That one would really tear up your ass. The third paddle had holes of various sizes drilled through it. The smallest was about a quarter inch. The largest was at least two inches. Those holes would cause welts and blisters with every swat. The fourth paddle had a heart carved into it. It wasn’t quite a hole because it was only cut about half way through the wood. Mistress Sam flipped that one over so I could see that there were two smaller hearts carved into the other side.
“Which one should I use?” she asked aloud.
I thought she was just thinking to herself and didn’t say anything. Then she slapped me with her hand, low on my thigh.
“They all will hurt,” I said quickly.
“They’re supposed to hurt,” she replied curtly. “Which one do you think I should use?”
I was thinking fast. “If my ass is supposed to look cute,” I answered, “then you shouldn’t use any of the first three. They would make me all bruised and bloody.”
“So you WANT me to use this one?” she said, holding the heart paddle up in front of me.
“Y.. Y.. Yes,” I sputtered back.
“Say it!” she hissed in almost a whisper.
“I want you to use the heart paddle on me to make my ass look beautiful,” I said quickly.
“Good,” she answered with a smile, “because the rules of the contest say that we can only whip your ass for display if you want it.”
“I... I... I...” I started to sputter, but then I dropped my head and my voice and said, “Yes, Mistress.”
She patted my ass with her hand and said, “I think a big heart with two small hearts underneath on each cheek would look nice. What do you think, worm?”
“Yes, Mistress,” I answered carefully. “That would look nice.”
She held the paddle very carefully and then snapped it down in one quick motion. It made a loud “Smack!” and I made a loud yelp.
“Quiet, worm!” she said sternly and popped my other asscheek.
“That takes care of the small hearts,” she said cheerfully. “Unfortunately, I think the large hearts require greater force.”
I don’t know if she expected me to object, but she immediately slammed the paddle into my ass. I grunted loudly, but didn’t cry out. “Good boy,” she said and slammed the paddle into my other asscheek.
This time when she ran her fingers over my ass, I could feel the sting as she touched the hearts. She ran her fingers slowly around the two large hearts before saying, “I think you’re ready.”
Someone must have been helping her, or at least standing by, because she quickly threw a large black sheet over me and pushed it down on all sides. After that, I couldn’t see anything, but I could tell that someone was tying it in place. I could also tell that my ass was sticking out through a hole in the sheet.
“Good luck, worm,” she said as she patted my ass one more time. I could hear her high heels clicking as she walked away.
Someone, I guess stage crew or something like that, wheeled me around a little and then I heard a clunk as my frame was put up next to another one. A short while later, there was another clunk on my other side. Then a voice said, “Ready,” and I could see that there was a lot more light on the floor– the floor was all I could really see.
I could hear the emcee saying something, but I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Then I heard a strange rattling noise and the emcee shouted, “Welcome our contestants!”
There was an unbelievably loud roar of hooting and hollering. I heard a couple of voices cry out, “Number five is a sissy.”
That upset me. I’m a submissive, but I’m not a sissy. I don’t dress up in women’s clothes and stuff unless Mistress orders me to. And nobody is putting one of those cages on my cock. Well, Mistress Gloria has never done it, and I hope she never does.
I heard the emcee walking down the line. He was making comments about each of the asses as he walked past. I felt him stroke my ass as he walked by. His finger traced one of the larger hearts on my ass and then he patted me gently.
He walked on to the next ass and then said loudly, “You all know how this is done. Your applause and cheers determine the winner. We will take the two lowest contestants off stage at the end of the first and second votes. Then you will decide between the last two for the winner.”
There was again a round of loud shouts and comments. “OK,” the emcee yelled, “let’s hear it for contestant number one!” The audience responded with applause, shouts, and whistles.
He repeated that with each of us. It was really hard to tell who got the loudest response, but after he finished, he said, “Our judges say that numbers six and three should be removed.”
There was some jostling as they moved us around and then after about ten minutes, the emcee shouted, “Time for our second vote.”
This time it was pretty obvious that number one was lowest, but I wasn’t sure whether I was one of the two highest. After a minute or so of silence, the emcee gushed, “The judges say remove numbers one and four.”
I had thought I was four, but after everything was rearranged, I was still on stage, so I must have still been five. “We are down to our last two contestants,” the emcee crooned, so we need a little more information.”
I didn’t know what he meant, but then he said, “Let’s check number two to see if she’s wet.”
I heard a soft moan and then he said, “Look at that! Wet and slippery. I’ll need a towel to wipe off my hand.”
Then I heard him behind me. “Obviously, he isn’t wet,” he said with a snicker. Then he poked me right in the middle of my asshole. I couldn’t help it. My asscheeks tightened up trying to keep him out.
“Look at that,” he exclaimed. “I’ve seen snapping-turtle pussy before, but this sissy has a snapping turtle asshole.”
Then he started laughing. I wasn’t sure why until he said with almost a giggle, “And my poking him has started something.”
That’s when I realized that I was getting hard. It wasn’t his finger... exactly. I guess it was the fact that I get off on humiliation and there isn’t anything much more humiliating that being there in front of a room full of people with your ass literally hanging out and having someone goose you.
“Are you ready to vote?” the emcee cried out after a while and the audience yelled back a loud, “Yes!”
He evidently walked over to number two and pointed out something. There was a loud round of applause and shouting. Then he walked over to me and lightly stroked my ass. I couldn’t help it, I got stiffer. I heard a couple of comments about my prick. One woman almost shouted, “My God, he’s bigger than any sissy I’ve ever seen.”
Then the audience started clapping and yelling... really loud. The emcee shouted, “I don’t think we need the judges for this. Our little sissy... or should I say big sissy... is our winner.”
There was some noise as they rolled the other frame off stage, then the emcee said in a rather normal voice for him, “Now it is time for our auction.” He paused and then said, “We will start the bidding at five hundred dollars.”
To my surprise, he then went into a professional auctioneer’s voice complete with the cadence and patter. I could hear the bids rapidly going up. It sounded like it was down to three people, and then two, and then the emcee shouted, “Going once... going twice... Sold to Master three-five-one for two thousand, three hundred, fifty dollars!”
I sort of expected whoever it was to come up on stage and claim me, but instead two stagehands rolled me down a ramp and then onto an elevator. After more rolling, I heard a male voice say, “Just leave him right there. I’ll unwrap him myself.”
I thought the voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t place it. Then he leaned close to the black sheet and said, “Hi, Walter. Ready for some not Fourth of July fireworks.”
I gasped. It was Master Jeremy. He softly stroked my ass and said softly, “Kristi recognized Mistress Gloria and Mistress Sam and asked if she could play with them. I made a deal with Mistress Gloria that if she would back me in the auction, I would give her kristi for the night.”
He stroked my ass again and said, “And here you are.”
He continued to stroke my ass as he said, “You know, walter, I discovered several things about myself the Fourth of July. One was that I was a natural Master. The other was that I was bi.” He chuckled and said, “Well, maybe not totally bi, but I found that I really wanted to fuck you in the ass.”
“Yes, Master,” I said softly. “Will you please release me from this contraption so I may service you?”
He laughed. “You didn’t see the whole device, did you, weird worm?”
Then I felt the whole thing lowering so that my face was almost on the floor.
“This could be the ultimate anonymous fuck,” Master Jeremy said as he pushed some lube into my asshole. Then he started sliding one finger, and then two, and then three into my ass.
“Looks like you’re ready,” he said firmly. I felt the tip of his penis line up with my asshole and then I felt him start pushing.
I was surprised at how easily he went in, but I wasn’t tensed up and I wasn’t trying to fight him. I don’t really like receiving anal, but the whole situation with me encased in a black shroud with just my ass exposed and being fucked was a strange turn-on.
After only a few minutes, I felt him erupt into my bowels. He stayed pushed up against me for a while and then pulled out.
“Time to unwrap my purchase,” Master Jeremy said, almost laughing.
The lights in the room weren’t all that bright, but I still had to blink several times before my eyes got used to the light. After he had unstrapped me, he told me to walk around a little to make sure my arms and legs weren’t cramping. Then he lay down on the bed and said, “Time for round two.”
He was lying face up and he ordered me to straddle him facing away from him and to impale myself on his prick. To my surprise, he was already back to almost full stiffness.
I did what he said and then he said slowly, “I want you to stroke yourself almost to climax to get your asshole really tight. Then I want you to bounce up and down on me until I cum.”
I was still stretched out, so it was easy to mount him. I was also hard and really didn’t need to stroke myself very much to get close to popping.
I started bouncing up and down on him, or more accurately, I started raising and lowering myself on his prick. I started slowly at first and I could feel him squirming and thrusting slightly beneath me. It was really weird. I was the slave getting screwed in the ass, but I was the one in control. I could see why some girls like riding cowboy during sex. I was able to set the pace and even how deep a thrust his prick actually made into me.
I could also move myself so his prick would massage my prostate more... or less. I started speeding up. He wasn’t cumming yet and I really wanted to pop. I knew that I could only go a couple more times up and down when I felt his prick starting to twitch really hard. I slammed myself down and then pulled myself up as far as I could go and not lose him. I slammed myself down one final time. He erupted into me with a great yell and sort of thrashed and quivered under me. Then we both just lay there breathing hard.
“You are fabulous,” he said between deep breaths. “You would have made one hell of a girl.”
“No,” I said. “I’m just a submissive boy with a nice ass.”
He laughed. “Yes,” he said. “That’s what you are.”
I was sitting there waiting for him to deflate fully so I could pull off of him when a voice came over the intercom. “We will have to be leaving in about twenty minutes,” it said. It was Mistress Gloria.
“Do I need a pillow for three-four-one on the way home?” she asked.
“No, Mistress,” I answered. “But I might need a towel. I think I might be leaking for a while.”
She just laughed and said, “Won’t we all.”
About fifteen minutes later there was a light knock on the door. It was holly. “Mistress told me to come get you,” she said. She sounded upset.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, as I came out the door.
“You should know,” she answered.
“How would I...” I started to respond, then it hit me. “You were number two?” I said.
“And they chose your ass... a boy’s ass... over mine!” she replied.
“I think the competition was rigged,” I said softly. “How else would someone with such a very cute ass as yours not win.”
She smiled at me and said, “It’s hard to stay mad at you when you know exactly what to say.”
The ride back on the bus and then in the car seemed even longer than the ride there. The Mistresses took pity on us and told us that we could sleep in an extra hour the next morning. I still had trouble getting up, so holly threw some cold water on me.
“I liked it better when you woke me up with a blow job,” I said as I jumped out of bed.
“Blow jobs are for when we have time,” she answered and dragged me toward the kitchen.