The Chalet
by Aiken (c)2000
Chapter Four, Maddy goes to the Fellatio Kiosk
As dresser attendants Fiona and Sandy closed up several lockers, and prepared to
wheel Maddy away from her dressing station Captain Neesha crouched close to
Maddy for some extra words of encouragement. "How I envy you." she whispered,
"Your first time is so special. My first journey to the fellatio kiosk was
nearly five years ago. That day still stands out from all the rest... Now you
just need to be tucked in for your trip."
Neesha took a pair of weighted brass nipple clamps from Fiona and placed them
securely on Maddy's nipples. Maddy's breasts pointed straight downward, as the
inverted L-shaped frame bent her constrained torso 90 degrees forward from the
hips. The clamps had a very firm pinch, and their jaws were lightly ridged for a
secure grip. Shining 6-ounce chrome plumb-bobs dangled from 10 inches of rayon
cord beneath each unhappy breast. Maddy couldn't complain about it though, as
she was denied any semblance of speech. The injection Maddy's duty roster
captain had given her to help accommodate the huge cock-shaped torture gag did
far more than neutralize her gag re?ex. It temporarily paralyzed her vocal cords
along with several muscle groups inside her throat. This made her a compliant
victim for the hours of deep-throat face fucking that lay ahead, and rendered
any sound other than the slightest moans impossible for her. It also acted as a
stimulant throughout her body, making her highly alert to any form of discomfort
and pain, yet resistant to a kiosk virgin's propensity for fainting and going
into shock. Last but not least the potion acted on her pleasure centers in an
exceptional way. The drug took approximately 20 hours to run its course, but
didn't actually wear off. A woman's endocrine system was triggered to help flush
it out of her body, while releasing sexual endorphines and pheromones. A cadet's
glands were literally tricked into giving her an orgasmic rush as the drug left
her system. As her mouth and throat areas were inwardly massaged by such things
as gags or cocks, her recovery process was accelerated, and the pleasure
response was intensified, in stark counterpoint to her painfully overstuffed
throat, and awkward bondage. It was a maddeningly effective therapy.
The drug, code named Vector, was the result of decades of tests utilizing
thousands of Chalet girls. It was Chalet Corporation's most closely guarded
secret. New recruits were never told of its existence, nor were the guests who
took piquant pleasure with these delightful new cadets. Some thought it strange
that new girls were always required to wear gags, or were under strict
instructions not to speak. No one bothered to question those rules, as there
were always more enjoyable matters for clients to attend to. The original goal
of Chalet chemists was to find a way to keep new recruits from strangling, going
into shock and dying during their first horrifying days of work. Losing some
cadets was considered unavoidable in this risky business, and acceptable under
the contracts the girls had signed. But Chalet Inc. wanted it kept to a minimum,
as each death was a loss to Chalet profit potential, and damaged the continuity
of management talent. Research found that the drug would save lives, but
included a tremendous bonus. Administered continuously over a number of days, it
trained girls to associate profound sexual pleasure with strangling, whipping,
or any type of carefully repeated painful abuse. Cadets could be programmed to
crave certain punishments with almost pavlovian precision. If administered
incorrectly it would backfire, paralyzing some women for life, or transforming
them into drug addicts and self-destructive masochists.
Sentinels, teams of captains and attendants well trained in the medical arts,
were always on hand when the drug was in use at the fellatio kiosk, monitoring
cadets' dosages and vital signs, while they drained bladders, purged bowels and
maintained the girls' fluid levels. They always knew their Vector level was
perfect when a cadet's eyes and pussy stayed moist and responsive, her heart
volume was slightly elevated, and her hair shone with the subtle health-giving
effects of measured endorphine release. This was one of the key secrets for
Chalet girls feeling young, looking ageless, and maintaining ideal ratios of
toned muscle and body fat, in spite of the daily abuses they suffered. Thriving
was the code word used for this optimal state, though staff members preferred
the more humorous description: writhing and thriving.
Neesha took two bright orange bungee cords and began affixing them to her
helpless captive. The longer of these half inch thick elastic devices went
around Maddy's neck three times. Neesha started by placing the middle of the
cord against the top center of Maddy's throat near her jawline, and pulling the
ends across the back of her neck, then down in front again for a second loop.
This loop included the chrome steel tube that Maddy's body rested against.
Stretching the cords ends firmly, Neesha pulled them back up from the tubing and
clipped their rubber-coated steel hooks together at the back of Maddy's neck.
Maddy couldn't understand it. The heavy elastic cord was stretched tight,
digging into her throat enough to choke her. It seemed so unnecessary and
unfair, as she already had to deal with a ten-inch cock buried inside her
throat! She quickly realized the bungee's choking effects were only
psychological, since the gas-permeable torture gag still allowed her to breath
through her nose, albeit very slowly. If anything, the gag sustained her,
keeping her throat open against the pressure of a bungee cord, which under
different circumstances would have been powerful enough to kill her. It was a
terrifying feeling nevertheless, and quite painful. Together with the weights
biting into her tender nipples, she couldn't believe how much it hurt....
But this wasn't enough pain to satisfy Neesha, who took the much-shorter
remaining cord and connected one end of it under the two hooks already linked at
the nape of Maddy's neck. She carefully worked the other end of this short
bungee through the girl's hair underneath her ponytail knot till it emerged from
her thick mane halfway up the back of her head. Smoothing out Maddy's hair as
she went, Neesha pulled the elastic cord taut against Maddy's scalp, and forward
until it stretched across the middle of the girl's forehead. As the bungee
entered her field of vision, Maddy could see the hook at this end was formed
into two separate hooks about a half-inch apart. Each rubber-coated prong folded
back steeply for an inch or so. Neesha pushed a glistening dollop of sensitizing
mint lube into each of Maddy's nostrils, surprising the girl. She then quickly
hooked the two bungee prongs into Maddy's nasal passages and released the cord.
Maddy's eyes snapped open in astonishment as the bungee-prongs jerked painfully
upward against the small and sensitive openings of her nose. Her nostrils had
never experienced such intrusions. The shape of her beautiful face was distorted
by the tension of the strong cord, and she knew it. She could feel it making her
into a ugly pig-faced thing. It was a rude and awful sensation, rising above
even the pain in her throat, nipples and rectum. She shuddered in misery and
anger.
"A bit much for you to comprehend, isn't it, my dear?" her captain cood,
studying Maddy's eyes, and almost reading her thoughts. She stroked Maddy's hair
as one would do an animal, "It is a lot to learn, so I will try to explain. You
see, the torture gag has become your best friend now, protecting you from a grip
that would otherwise be deadly, though it would probably take all day for the
bungee garotte to asphyxiate you. And the nasal hook is the perfect extra touch.
How singularly unpleasant it is to have the nostrils invaded and deformed, and
one's face made gruesome looking. There's nothing as humiliating as wearing one
in public, not to mention your coming-out party. Knowing that it's only a
temporary violation doesn't help much.... you absolutely detest it, don't you?
All the girls hate it. I certainly did. But customers just adore it. The nasal
hook is a favorite technique of Oriental bondage masters who know a little bit
about mistreating women, and how devastating it is to take away a girl's facial
dignity. Our asian clients love to fondle the girls' nostrils, tickling and
pinching them around their hooks while having their cocks sucked. Your
bungee-garotte has several purposes I should also tell you about... First off,
it's placement around your neck massages chemically vectored areas, so
endorphines are elicited more quickly, and in close association with pain and
pressure at your throat. That's very important. Second of all, your bungee gives
pleasure to customers, not only visually, but also by helping you grip their
cocks more securely. It replaces muscle pressure that is lost while your throat
experiences the paralytic qualities of the medicine. Last and most importantly,
It just hurts."
Maddy gave her captain a wounded look. Of course it hurts, dammit, her look
seemed to say. Maddy's expressive brown eyes were all the poor girl had left to
communicate with.
"But, um... I guess you already know that by now," Neesha added, smiling, "You
see, cadets are required to arrive at amusement rooms in grand fashion, in
creative bondages, and in substantial pain. The Knobs and Nellies up there
really go for that. You might as well know about the unflattering terms we
sometimes use for customers here. And these names must never leave our dressing
rooms, or it's grounds for your termination. Male customers are called Knobs
because that's what the poor men arrive with, erections that can't be erased the
whole time they are here. Their hard knobs do all the thinking for them too, as
they throw away credits for pleasure until they've spent all they have. Nellies
are rarely as intense as the men, but generally tip you twice as much. Sometimes
nervous, sometimes not, many arrive in female groups to partake of your sex and
your pain. Bolstered by the alcohol in their systems, and ladyfriends nearby,
some of them sign contracts to begin their own Chalet girl careers. Other
Nellies enter clinging to their men, aroused and curious, yet always a little
startled by what we dispense here. A bit worried about it too. They've heard the
wives tale of women being sold into a dark world of bondage and slavery to
absolve their husband's debts. Employees are encouraged to joke about that
story. It often amuses and relaxes the crowd, while raising the Nellies' anxiety
another notch...what they don't know won't hurt them, will it?"
"Bungee garottes are always color-keyed," the smiling captain continued
excitedly, "The bright orange ones you have on introduce you as a kiosk virgin,
and a first-month cadet. Medium yellow is the color for the rest of your cadet
service time, until it changes to green for the cadet's 18th and final month.
When attendants wear them, they use blue for their first month, changing to
white until the last of their 18 months, when they wear purple. Captains'
garottes are usually worn in public only for ceremonial purposes, and are always
black. Bungees play an important role in Chalet Girl income, since the
excitement they create helps break down the customers' wallets. For knobs who
love to take on new girls, nothing commands as high a price as the lady in the
orange bungee. One knows at a glance she's fresh, innocent, and ready for
raping. At your kiosk upstairs men will surrender more than a month's income
just to have a go at you. But they must pay even more to have your nose and
throat bungees kept in place. Otherwise we unclip them during his time with you.
Knobs aren't doing you any favors by being cheap, either. When they do that you
are punished in two ways. Number one way is you get less pay. Cadet bonuses are
based solely on the sale of extras, those fees that are added on to basic
charges. A cadet gets 30 percent of any extra credits her customer buys, plus 60
percent of his gratuity, but only when extras are purchased. Otherwise her tip
share drops to 30 percent. Our studies have shown that girls without bungee neck
and face restraints get less than half the tips than the girls whose necks and
nostrils are corded. The psychology of extras is cumulative, and so are the
profits; the hornier a customer gets, the more they snowball. So we promote this
process in many ways. Daily prizes are earned by cadets who get the largest
credit values of their team, upsell the highest ratios of customers, and have
the best increase in extras sold from the previous day."
"Number two way the conservative knobs hurt you," Captain Neesha concluded, "Has
to do with pain. Bungees are quickly reattached between customers along with the
torture gag, and mystery penalties are assessed, so in the long run it ends up
being much worse for you than leaving them on in the first place. The girls are
ready to take you upstairs now, dear. You'll be in the expert hands of
Entertainment Captain Lauren and her beautiful staff of sentinels and maids.
Have a good time, darling, and make me proud. I'll see you in the break area in
about 6 hours."
Thru a haze of pain and conflicting emotions, Maddy blinked twice to her
beautiful captain as the two dressers wheeled her away toward a large freight
elevator at the far end of the room. The platform she was fastened to was
sturdy, but not smooth-rolling. She could feel every bump and wiggle being
transmitted from its wheels to the plumb bobs swinging from her sore titties.
The steel tube running behind her legs and beneath her tummy and chest was good
for holding her in her bent-forward position, but little else. It offered no
stability at all. The rubber straps that attached her to it at the calves,
knees, thighs, waist, and chest had enough stretch in them to let her slip a
little from side to side as they pushed her along, straining her leg and back
muscles continually, and putting more stress on her neck bungee than she knew
how to deal with. Maddy couldn't decide which area hurt worse, her packed and
garotted throat, her armbindered shoulders, her clamped and weighted breasts, or
her mercilessly arched feet which, clamped inside their steel shells, placed her
body weight squarely on the tips of her toes. Finally she decided that above
this tapestry of pain her nose hook was the worst. Somehow, it remained
uppermost in her thoughts, as it pulled against her tiny nostrils. It did worse
than hurt her physically. It distressed her emotionally. She could feel it
cancelling out the erotic beauty of her sumptuously madeup face, degrading her
with each passing moment, and for all the world to see. As they waited for the
elevator doors to open, bitter tears ?owed from Maddy's eyes.
When the elevator doors reopened, Maddy was embraced by the distinctive chimes
of slot machines and other casino games, and the busy babble of excited
customers. Amusement room 4 was a brightly lit ballroom with beautiful red
carpets and sparkling chandeliers. It was barely eight o'clock in the morning,
yet a good crowd of people was already on hand, crisply dressed in formal
evening wear. The eager smiles and soft whistles surrounding her told her that
she had been the first to arrive. The dressers pushed her up to a large round
table in the center of the room and turned her until her back faced it. She
could see the elevator door reopen a moment later, and another latex-bound girl
was wheeled out by two sticker-suited dressers. This girl was a petite blond
whose large blue eyes registered the same depths of pain and humiliation that
Maddy felt. Maddy recognized her as Petra, a beautiful Belgian girl who tested
out of school early and falsified her age when she applied to Chalet, Inc. Maddy
discovered her secret as they studied together during orientation. Petra's
predicament appeared to be identical to Maddy's, and her nose hooks were
bracketed by the same tears of resentment and shame.
Over and over the elevator door reopened, and another Chalet girl emerged. All
were dressed and bound identically, with their orange-bungeed throats gagging on
ten-inch columns of latex, and their eyes streaming silent tears. Each was
greeted appreciatively by noisy customers whose numbers were growing. The girls
were wheeled up to similar positions just outside the ten-foot perimeter of the
glass-covered table. Finally, twelve cadets were equally spaced around the
table, arranged like spokes from the center of a wheel, each with two dresser
attendants standing alongside them at stiff attention.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," an announcer's voice boomed across the ballroom, "We
proudly present to you our newest class of Chalet-Boston Cadets, Class 15 of
year 2066. Fresh from orientation, these ladies are ready to begin their arduous
Chalet Girl careers. Each one has met our exacting standards for beauty,
intelligence and complicity. Each of these lovely ladies has given their
complete and unconditional consent. You will be the very first ones to
experience them in this way. And remember, each cadet has been painfully bound
in a fashion that they themselves could not have imagined just one short hour
ago. Please... give them a warm greeting and enjoy them in good health, because
...you....WON'T be disappointed!"
The crowd erupted with applause and cheers. They were excited already, but
watching the beautiful kiosk virgins being delivered to them one by one in
excruciating bondage had them at fever pitch. Hearing the announcer recite
Chalet International's famous motto sent them over the top. Printed countless
times in glossy magazine ads and recited for years on sultry TV and radio ad
campaigns, the phrase "You WON'T be disappointed" had become the most
recognizable business slogan on earth. A gorgeous woman emerged from the edge of
the turbulent crowd, dressed in a captain's day suit and collar. It was Captain
Lauren. She clapped her hands twice, and the 24 tightly-gagged dresser
attendants went into motion. They pushed their sexy prisoners' platforms back
simultaneously until the cadets' latex-coated bottoms met the center post
beneath the table. Dressers busied themselves with the central post, which was
an instrument-laden metallic cylinder about three feet wide. There were 12
docking stations at the table's hub, one corresponding to each cadet's
posterior. The red and green tubes emerging from their ass plugs and urethra
plugs were connected to corresponding color coded tubes on the hub. A nine-inch
steel prong was lifted up and inserted thru a hidden slit at the crotch of each
cadet's catsuit, located directly over the girls vaginal openings. The tubular
prongs were mounted on adjustable metal pivots, and once pressed deep inside the
girls' vaginas, were angled upward to hold each girl in position. After this
fitting was complete four special clips at the base of the prongs were engaged,
snapping onto the outer labia of the girls vaginas. These clips had serrated
jaws, and were astonishingly painful. They were designed to hold the girls'
pussies fully onto the prongs and to make any rear movements or struggles futile
and highly unpleasant for the kiosk captives.
After the girls' pussy-plugs were properly aligned and secured, their dressers
engaged several switches, powering up special devices inside the docking units.
Dressers clipped round devices to cadets' earlobes connected by slender wires to
thick waxy ear plugs. Resembling the large plastic ear jewelry that refreshment
maids wore, these earpieces were called earwires, and served a dual function.
Sounds were transmitted and regulated into cadets' ears through a system called
the sentinel relay. One sentinel captain and a corresponding sentinel attendant
were responsible for every two cadets during kiosk duty. Sitting in control
rooms with small windows overlooking the enormous glass covering of the kiosk
table, sentinel captains communicated with both cadets and attendants from their
headsets, giving them orders, admonishments, and encouragements, as well as
income updates or any other type of information the captains deemed necessary.
At the same time, the earwires gathered and transmitted vital information back
to the sentinel captains, who continually tracked their two cadets'
temperatures, heart rates, fluid balances, blood pressures, etc. Adding once
again to the poor cadets' cacophony of pain, these two-way radio devices
utilized sharp jaws similar to their pussy clips, but much narrower so as to
focus more pressure on the sensitive lobes of their ears. The earwires currently
emitted white noise, a sufficient amount of it to cancel out any discussion or
sounds in the room. Until they were removed, the only sounds the cadets would
hear were the ones that their sentinel captains wanted them to hear.
"When will they ever finish?" Maddy thought despondently, her body a quivering
riot of pain signals, twinges of excitement and pangs of raw fear, "When will
they be done with these endless preparations, and leave us alone to suck these
men off?" Her medication was doing its work, keeping the nerves at peak
sensitivity throughout her body. In spite of the pain she was feeling, the
Vector drug had piqued her pleasure centers beyond belief, and she desperately
needed to come.
It was just as captain Neesha had told her. Maddy's pussy tingled and dripped
with unbearable arousal, and her throat ached with more than the unnatural pain
and pressure of her torture gag and garotte. Maddy burned with a supernatural
desire to feel something stroking and rubbing against the walls of her mouth and
throat. If that meant a man's hard cock, or twenty men's hard cocks, then so be
it. It was a maddening itch she couldn't scratch. The cold steel prod in her
pussy made her shiver, and the labia clips felt like snakes biting her. But they
still brought welcome reassurance. At least now she knew that when her customers
finally appeared she would have something to bear down on to achieve orgasm, and
hopefully, distract her from her chemically-induced oral cravings. But when?
When would their cocks arrive? She couldn't wait..
As if answering Maddy's silent prayers, and those of other girls alongside her,
the dressers stood proudly and marched to the far end of the room for Captain
Lauren's inspection. The beautifully crimson-lipped, auburn-haired captain
walked slowly past the row of 24 women, appraising their appearance and
composure, pulling this, and checking that. "Well done, ladies," she said at
last, "Everyone here did their jobs correctly today, and should receive four
less stickers in their suits on their next shift. Except for you, Theresa, and
Marie. Your gags and neckropes aren't on tightly enough, and some of your hair
has come undone. I won't tolerate sloppiness in my room, girls. Everyone report
immediately to your costume captains for a five-sticker increase, and two hours
of restroom cleaning. Theresa and Marie, you are to report for three hours of
personal duty to captain's lounge number 2 at eighteen hundred. Be in groomer's
suits. Properly fitted. You are all dismissed to return to your departments
now."
The attendants blinked and nodded respectfully, and marched single file to the
elevators. From a doorway on the opposite wall, twelve women entered the room at
the same time, much to the delight of the crowd. Six of them were lovely
refreshment maids, flashing radiantly red smiles and shuffling along in their
shining steel enclosures. The other six were sentinel attendants, usually called
sentinel maids. They wore peach-colored lycra suits stretched over the same type
of sticker-equipped rubber suits that the dresser attendants wore. Other than
the color difference, their attire was identical to what the blue dressers wore,
except in two ways. Sentinel maids had the painfully clipped-on earwires that
kiosk cadets wore, and were not required to wear gags. Sentinel maids wore the
same head harnesses and neckropes as refreshment maids and dresser attendants,
but like the refreshment maids, sentinel maids needed unfettered mouths to do
their duties. Their heavily lacquered lips were on full display at all times,
adding to their customers' pleasure, and their tip tally, as they smiled,
answered questions and requests, managed the flow of knobs to their cadets, and
responded to the directions of their sentinel captains upstairs.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Captain Lauren called enthusiastically, "These twelve
lovely Chalet girls are now ready to pleasure you. We first need to get everyone
into their proper lines. Seven of you are reserved for each of them this
morning, meaning that during the next five hours, 84 customers in this room will
get to experience an incredible 40-minute session with a true kiosk virgin. Some
of you have a ticket in your hand with a number on it that you've paid a
handsome price for. Hold onto it carefully and line up over there where a large
star in the carpet has the same color as your card. There are twelve stars that
match your 12 different ticket colors. Line up in the order of your ticket
number beginning with numbers one through seven. Chairs will be made available
for those of you who want them. We've all been having fun up until now, and the
noise was not a problem, but I require everyone in line to be quiet now, because
we are managing sound files and making high-resolution videos today. I know it
can be disappointing to have to line up more than forty feet away from the
action, but the quality of time each of you receives during your turn with a
cadet is well worth the effort the rest of us makes not to crowd anyone or make
distracting noises. Video screens above the wall nearest to you will provide the
benefit of live close ups, and attendants will bring you complimentary food and
drinks orders while you wait. I trust the time will pass pleasantly for you. If
any of you has a question or a special request, tell your attendant to notify me
and we will look into it. Everyone not holding a reservation ticket must leave
the ballroom now. All the rooms adjacent to this one have plenty of seating and
large live-action screens that you will find very enjoyable to watch. By the
way, in this room my word is law. Anyone not obeying me will be asked to leave
Chalet-Boston immediately and permanently. Let's go, folks."
The excited crowd followed her instructions quickly and to the letter. She
whispered something to a pair of pretty sentinel maids, then looked up to the
sentinel captains, whom she outranked, and winked happily. Moving smoothly on
their high-heeled boots, the two maids traversed the large room to inform twelve
lucky customers with the number one on their cards that it was their time to
come forward. The bizarre spectacle was about to begin....
END OF CHAPTER FOUR
(c)Aiken, 2000
