Hole

Hole

 

Chapter 4

 

 

Hole drove through the night, driving carefully so as not to draw any attention that could get her stopped.  She was also exhausted and driving on mental autopilot. Her thoughts were about her owner; how the afternoon and evening was set up; how the day’s events impacted her feelings both for him as well as about her.  Every small bump in the road made a sore spot call out and refresh her memory of the earlier scenes, each ache instantly recalling the stroke that created the pain.  Her mind was a jumble of feelings, of trying to think while brain dead, of recurring images, of smells and tastes, of blackness from the hood.  Her jaw felt like she had stood up to Mike Tyson and let him punch the side of her face.  She had to drive carefully because of the pain in her feet, pressing the pedals too hard returned her to the set, the rod striking her instep, the crop slapping each toe.  She changed lanes and one of the plastic bottles sloshed and rolled toward the passenger door.  Instantly her memory rewound, returning her to the set.  

 

Hole lay there, sorting out the various aches and pains, trying to determine where she hurt the most.  Trace’s assistant, Freddy, came back over with another large bottle. 

          “It’s Aloe and other soothing oils.”  Freddy told her.  “It’s supposed to help.” Hole smiled slightly and nodded.

          “It does. Just be gentle, ok?”  She asked.  Freddy nodded and started pouring the lotion on her shoulders and gently spreading it around.  It was chilled, so to help take the sting out quicker.

          “MMmm.  That’s better.  Thanks.” 

Hole sat up so Freddy could get to her back.  When he was finished there, she turned so he could get to the other side.  Her tits were covered with fine vertical lines over a background of solid pink.  Her nipples were a darker red, with a hint of purple.  Several welts stretched across the top of each tit, marching like ladder rungs down to her nipples and under to her chest.  As Freddy touched each welt, Hole winced slightly. 

“Sorry.” He apologized. 

“It’s ok.  You didn’t do it and I agreed to it.” She replied.  Freddy paused then looked up at her face. 

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Freddy inquired

“Depends on what it is.” She replied.

“I’ve helped on a bunch of shoots, but not one like this one.  The rest were pretty much either straight sex or gangbangs.  The women were pretty loose about the whole thing.  This one is kinda kinky.  Do you like doing this?   ‘Cause I don’t want it to come back on me later.” Freddy explained.

“You won’t have any trouble later.  Liking this is hard to explain…I’m not going to try.  Let’s just say some of it excites me even though it hurts.  Some of the other things…and some that I haven’t done yet… I do because I’m supposed to.” She answered.

“Supposed to?” Freddy look puzzled.

“I made promises that I have to keep.”  Was her reply

“Lose a bet?  Must have been a big one!”  Freddy remarked.

“Not exactly,” Hole laughed.  “It goes further than that.  But, don’t worry; you won’t get into trouble about me.  Now how your boss distributes this is a completely different issue.”

“I’m out of that loop.  Once I leave here, I’m clear.”  He said.

Freddy resumed smoothing lotion on Holes’ body.  She carefully and slowly laid back and opened her legs so he could apply some to her pussy.  She seemed rather nonchalant, which she might as well be.  Freddy found it a little strange for a prefect stranger to just spread her legs open for him to anoint her pussy and asshole.  He proceeded, acting like he put lotion on strange women’s private parts every day.  He worked down her legs to her feet.  She winced again as he gently massaged her soles and toes.

“Sorry.” He said again.  Hole just shook her head slightly while he worked, stretching the leg he wasn’t massaging, wiggling

          her toes. The lotion helped, she sipped on another bottle of water while he worked.  Freddy finished and took the empty from her. 

“You might want to walk around a loosen up again.  We’ll be getting started pretty soon.”  Freddy turned away.

Hole was about to ask about a rest room when Trace walked up. 

“Feeling any better?”  He inquired. 

“Some.  The lotion definitely helps.  It’ll take more than that tomorrow.”

“Great.  We’re about set up now.  We’ll be shooting in the other set.”  He told her.

“Other set?” She asked.

“Yeah, it’s a little different…to accommodate the next scene.” He answered.

Hole looked at him a little suspiciously, wondering what was coming.  She had a feeling of dread; that this next scene would be the     toughest yet.  She wouldn’t be disappointed.

         

Trace helped her to walk slowly, limping slightly around the corner to another square built of frames and drapes. 

                    “He must have gotten a little too carried away with that rod.” He told her. Hole nodded.

                    “Yeah, they both did a fair number on me.  The other guys all added up too.” She replied.

          “I wanted it to appear real without doing any damage.  Are you going to be alright?” He asked.  Hole looked up at him.

                    “In a few days.  It’s going to hurt like bitch tomorrow.”  She sighed.

                    “Phil said you were used to this…you did it all the time.” Trace said.

                    “Let’s just say this is a bit more intense than usual.  Things happened at a faster pace than I’m used to.”  She answered.

                    “But you’re ok?” He asked as they moved along.

                    Silence.

                    “Look, if you can’t…” he started.  Hole waved her hand.

                    “No.  I can. I’ll deal with it.” She replied.

 

Trace guided her to the other set, set up behind the first one.  As he directed her into the set, she had to step over a shallow curb.  The entire floor was covered in heavy black PVC plastic film.  There were two constructions set up in the middle of the set.  The first was a small, tiered platform.  It was about half again wider than her shoulders and just shorter than her torso.  The middle was raised to just under waist high.  Both sides of the lower level had a line of rings along the edge.  The middle raised portion had a locking belt across it.  A metal rod rose off each side, stopping half way between the levels, each culminating in a ring.  One end had a larger rod, a pole really, just lower than the upper level. The pole had a hinged flat ring, split horizontally.  Each half had a locking clasp on each end to allow a lock to keep it closed.

 

The second construction was another raised platform with what looked like a child’s wading pool on it.  It didn’t have pretty fishes and shells on it; it was a plain dark blue.  The “Toy Box” had been moved from the first set over to the side of this one.  The guys were standing around, one or two were smoking, most had a beverage of some sort in their hand.  Hole noticed water, a couple of beers, a bottled iced tea.   It didn’t take much imagination to figure out what was to come.  Trace walked over to the toy box and drew out the head harness again.  He had a different set of dental blocks in his hand.  Hole recognized the blocks as being larger than the first set, but the harness was the same.  The larger blocks would strain her jaws as the harness pulled against the fulcrum of the larger blocks.  The longer she wore the harness with these blocks, the longer her jaws would hurt the next week.  But the larger blocks made sure that none of the cocks would be denied access to her throat.  Trace walked up to her, holding the harness.

          “I hope you’ve got some kind of lubricant.  Albolene, Astroglide, even petroleum jelly if nothing else.” She asked.  Trace gave a lopsided grin.

          “You don’t think saliva is sufficient?” He said, half joking.

          “Look around.  Would you want nine cocks that size slammed up your ass using only spit?” She asked.  Trace looked around at the dangling rods, some starting to come back to life.

          “Ummmm….no.” He answered.

          “When was the last time you had your ass fucked?  Or do you swing that way?”  She inquired.

“I’m straight myself, don’t have a problem with the other persuasion…but I prefer women.  As to the last time…let’s say I was real young.  Many, many years ago.  I get the point, and yes, I’m not that cruel.  I’ve got all of the ones you mentioned and a couple more.  Which do you prefer?”  He asked.

“Astroglide is my first choice, then Albolene.  Just make sure that they use enough.  As in plenty.  Put a personal perspective on it.”  She said.

“No problem,” he chuckled, “I was just joking.”

“If it’s YOUR ass, then you can laugh. If it’s mine, I refer lube.”  She answered.

 

He handed her the blocks and she slipped them inside her mouth.  He held up the harness, she put that on and he fastened, then locked it.  She still had the cuffs on, so he helped over to the tiered platform.  She climbed up, putting her knees on either side of the raised middle section and pressed her abdomen down on it.  Trace locked her ankles to rings on the back corners and brought out a pair of straps.  Each one went around a knee and locked onto a ring part way up the edge.  Her hands were pulled back and locked onto the rods on either side.  She trembled as the belt was pulled across her back and locked.  She trembled more when she put her neck onto the bottom half of the ring, the other half was swung over, clasped and locked.  Trace noticed, but said nothing. She was now ready for a serious fucking.

 

Trace walked over to the group of men.

“We’re going to start the anal portion of the shoot.  In fact, it’s going to be ATM, that is ass to mouth.  Ahhh, she might get kinda messy.  Is anyone squeamish about getting his dick dirty?”  Trace looked around.  Don was grinning, holding the base of

 his cock like a bat, his hips thrust out while he wagged his shaft around.  Trace couldn’t suppress a grin and a chuckle.

“You’re always ready for anything, aren’t you?” Trace asked.  Don didn’t reply, just grinned and bounced up and down on the

 balls of his feet.  He swung his cock around, thrusting his hips back and forth.

“Well, you didn’t get a chance to do her throat, so you can have first shot at her ass.  Anyone else want to go second?”  He looked around.  A taller, blonde haired guy with a long, medium thickness cock spoke up.

“Works for me. Won’t be the first time I’ve had a little shit on my dick.” He said.

“Ok.  Don you start at her ass; you,” he pointed to the other guy,  “start in her mouth.  This time we’ll be a bit less energetic.  Just some easy, deep stroking.  Then you swap ends. We can build up the tempo as the shoot progresses.  Got it?” He asked.  Both of them nodded.

“The rest of you line up in what ever order you’re comfortable with.”  Trace walked over to the box, reached in and retrieved

something, then walked over to Hole.  He reached down between her legs and pulled her labia down slightly.  He applied a curved spring clamp to the outside of her pussy lips and let it clamp them together.  He waved Don over and showed him her clamped pussy.

“When we start the shot, the camera will be framed tight on her cunt.  We’ll pull out slowly, then you put the clamp on her pussy.  I want to make sure that all the action goes up her ass.  The clamp makes sure of that.  Got it?”  He asked.

“Sure.” Don replied.  He reached down and removed the clamp, then reapplied it.  He looked to see exactly where the clamp

sides came together.  The spring didn’t hold excruciatingly tight, it just had small teeth to make sure that it stayed put and maintained a constant reminder of its’ presence.

 

While Trace spoke to the rest of the cast, Hole’s mind was churning like a blender.  She was frightened, both by what was about to happen as well as how she would react.  Her relationship with her owner was based upon trust.  The decision to submit her ownership to him was born out of a true phobia of responsibility.  At first she disliked being responsible for anything; this grew to hatred.  Then she abhorred it; then was terrified by it.  Her craving for humiliation - especially sexual humiliation - her desire to be used and abused made her a perfect subject for a man who wanted a pretty little fuck toy he could abuse however he wanted.  First, however, he had to expand her boundaries.  She had had many previous casual lovers, but never a true relationship.  Her sexual exuberance delighted most of her partners, but her defensive nature prevented her from forming any continuing relationships.  She was passionate and creative in bed, astounding her partners with her enthusiastic participation in anything they might suggest.  But her passion for acts that others might consider deviant kept her true desires under control.  She was torn, emotionally convulsed, by what she desired but was terrified to reveal.  She occasionally fucked two guys at a time, a few times a guy and another woman.  She was careful not to get too involved in the swinger circuit, afraid that she would lose control in the wrong circumstance.  She met the man who would become her owner in a threesome.  She was invited to join another woman in a three way with a man.   The other woman had recruited Hole as a partner as a sexy gift to her lover.  Her lover had recognized something in Hole that intrigued him, a yearning that was suppressed, a desire denied.  He carefully pursued her and shared with her his desires, his dark passions.  He related his fears and reluctance to form a truly loving relationship.  He revealed his desire and ability to control and inflict pain but displayed no sociopathic tendencies. He wanted a subject.  She wanted to be subjected.

Through exposure to various other people in discrete parties, constant manipulation and reassurance, his ministrations succeeded in convincing her that he was the solution to her dilemma.  He could fulfill her craving while protecting her from her phobias; he would be rewarded with her possession.   Love was never a part of the equation.  Love requires the greatest amount of responsibility.  The responsibility of maintaining an emotional relationship was the most terrifying of all.  She needed simply to trust.  She agreed to pushing her limits. He provided an assortment of videos; from skewering Scandinavian lovelies, to German piss and cum gangbangs, progressing to petsex involving dogs and even horses; then as she participated in a variety of marathon sexual escapades with her owner, her mental boundaries expanded.  Violent BDSM videos were a frequent background to their activities, as well as a wide variety of other visual erotica.  Hole spent many a weekend afternoon or evening locked in tight shackles, her mouth secured to her owner’s cock, or locked into a buggering bench while his cock stroked incessantly into her asshole.  With both of them facing a large screen tv, videos playing, they both were temporarily satiated. She had a reasonable pain threshold already.  Combining various increasingly stringent chastisements with the physical and vocal humiliation that excited her raised her threshold.  She wasn’t turned off by the depictions of various tortures, of whippings, of the piss play and gangbangs.  Animal sex didn’t repulse her, neither did cock or pussy worship; in fact all of these seemed to have at least a mild attraction, some a major excitement. Her limit seemed to be scat play.  While watching the other videos she could put herself into the action; with the right encouragement would find them hugely stimulating.  She just couldn’t involve herself in the scat vids. Hole would watch, distant from the action.  This seemed to be a contradiction, even to herself.  After all, accepting the contents of another person’s bowels was pretty much the ultimate in either submission or humiliation.  Short of giving up her life, this would be the completion of her craving.  Being Hole, being a virtual inanimate receptacle of someone’s effluvia without regard to her humanity, this was the humiliation that drove her.  But becoming a personal sewer scared her.  It aroused a smaller curiosity, a desire lingered underneath the fear, but the fear remained.  Her owner had been able through progressive practice to reduce this reluctance.  It certainly wasn’t reluctance for anal sex.  That excited her.  Even when being the “party favor”, providing sexual entertainment for multiple couples by receiving cocks in all her holes, having freshly fucked pussies thrust into her face for cleansing while a succession of cocks filled her ass, Hole could generate streams of viscous goo from her cunt.  Piss play seemed a normal progression of her tendencies. She readily took to drinking her owner’s piss, even serving occasionally as a personal urinal for his friends, male and female. But it took many cleansing enemas first with continual encouraging humiliation for her to accept a cock into her mouth after it had filled her ass.  She didn’t know if it was the smell, or the concept, or some memory hidden in the recesses of her past that triggered her response.  But the response wasn’t just a mild reaction; it was palpable, bringing sweat to her brow and upper lip, trembling in her gut. 

Now she was about to endure the creator of her limit.  Ass to mouth sans enema, without cleansing, complete with the smell, taste and texture.  She was terrified.  She was afraid she couldn’t do it.  She was afraid she would disappoint, even embarrass, her owner.  She was most terrified that this event would break her trust in him.  But she had agreed to stretch her limits.  And he wasn’t here; his voice wasn’t telling her to do this thing, his frown wouldn’t be in her vision.  He had instead created this proxy.  She could refuse this without directly refusing him.  But this proxy…wasn’t it him?  He had written the note.  He knew what would happen.  How could she?  How could she not?  She trembled.  Sweat dropped from her nose.  Her hands were fists, clenched white, fingernails cutting into her palms.  Her throat was filled with dust, her ears roared, her heart sounded thumpa, thumpa, thumpa in her ears and neck.  She wanted to scream, but had no voice; to run, but was locked in place. Perhaps if she shook her head as hard as the collar would allow; or squirm frantically.  But that would be betrayal.  Betrayal to her owner.  Betrayal to herself.  She couldn’t refuse.  SHE COULDN’T DO IT!  SHE COULDN’T REFUSE! She had no responsibility in this debasement, she had only to accept it; but she couldn’t do this. Under the fear and trembling, her desire betrayed her.  Her craving to be Hole screamed out. Time seemed to slow, then -

Trace called:

         “Action!”