Hole

Chapter one.

Hole opened the car door and slipped gingerly into the driver’s seat.  The pain from her much abused pussy and asshole immediately returned her mind to the afternoon and night’s activities.  She started the car and put it in reverse, carefully depressing the accelerator, then drove slowly out of the parking lot.  She squirmed a bit, trying to find a bit of relief.  The pain brought her mind back to the festivities of the day.

It began with her owner’s instructions delivered shortly after she had cleaned up the lunch dishes.

“Hole… you’ve got an appointment to be a movie star again.”  He waited for her to react.  Hole looked up blankly, without displaying any emotion.  She waited as well. He gave her a slight smile and continued.  “I rented you to a friend for the afternoon.  He’s got a flick he’s producing and directing and needs a star.  You’re star material.”   He glanced up and down her body and smiled a bit more.

She looked down at herself, following his lead.  She saw a trim body, with long legs and flat tummy.  Her boobs weren’t huge, but did fill her tee shirt nicely.  They were well formed and high, with nipples that tended to stand erect.  “Constant high beams” her owner often said.  She couldn’t see her ass, but it, too, was quite well proportioned and very firm from many hours of diligent exercise.  Her eyes were wide and slightly almond shaped, not quite oriental, flanked by high cheekbones and supported by a small, delicate nose.  Her blue eyes seemed bright, but belied many years of self-doubt and worthless feelings.  Very fine, light copper colored hair framed her face, falling down to her neck, just above her shoulders.  She was quite attractive, but not more so than many young women that converge in shopping malls in Atlanta, Charlotte or Tampa on any given weekend.  To her, though, she was just plain homely. He handed her a sheet of notepaper. 

“This is the address, you’ve got about 45 minutes to get ready and get there.  Enjoy yourself.”

“Will I like doing this movie?”  Hole asked.

“What does ‘liking’ have to do with it?” He responded. “I said to enjoy it.  If you enjoy it and show how much you enjoy doing everything you’re instructed, then I’ll like it.  If you enjoy it sufficiently I’ll be cruel to you the way you like it.  Otherwise I’ll be very cruel to you the way you don’t. So enjoy it.”  That caused a slight shiver to run through her.  Her owner knew very well how to be cruel the way she didn’t like. 

She returned a flat smile. “I’ll enjoy it then.  May I ask how long I’ll be gone? My time belongs to you but I haven’t prepared any dinner and don’t want you to go hungry.”

“I’ll take care of myself.  In fact I have a dinner date.  So don’t worry about it.  Your other duties are waived for the evening as well.  Just enjoy.” 

That last remark concerned her, but she didn’t let it show.  She just smiled back.  “Thank you for releasing me for the evening.”  She turned around and headed toward the bathroom.  Being released from her duties meant that she would be back when it was over, with no set time.  The thought of how cruel he might be entered her mind.  Like an inverted suspension with her pussy pulled open with a handful of fish hooks run through her labia, the attached line wrapped around her thigh.  Then fifty or so strokes across the stretched flesh with a very roughened car radio antenna.  And his imagination was even more twisted than hers.

She shivered again and turned her attention to the address on the note.  She wasn’t familiar with it, so she knew she would have to check either the Internet or a paper map.  That would steal precious minutes that she needed to get ready.  Hole stripped the tee shirt off over her shoulders, unbuttoned her shorts and dropped them in the hamper.  She turned on the shower and got in before the water got warm.  There wasn’t time to wait and her owner hated for her to waste water.  She ignored the chill and started washing.  Shampoo first, then work down. By the time the water was warm, she was almost finished.  A quick warm rinse for her hair and her body and she grabbed a towel and stepped out. 

Her owner hadn’t specified her clothing so she went with the day’s default uniform.  Another clean tee shirt and shorts, no underwear, as usual.  She slipped on a pair of sandals with 4” heels and glanced in the mirror.  She quickly applied a light film of moisturizer, lipstick and a brush of eye shadow.  She wasn’t allowed much makeup as a rule, unless he was taking her out to a party or some other event.  In this case she expected that the “producer” would provide any other makeup.

He had rented her out several times before.  Every other time it was to an individual who made an amateur bdsm flick.  Her high pain tolerance and ready excitability under submission made her an excellent subject.  She was usually whipped, suspended, caned and finally fucked in every movie, usually in every orifice, often more than once.  Whipping she liked, as well as flogging, constricted bondage and cropping.  Canning took a little warming up, but if she were sufficiently prepared she could endure a canning that would leave her aching and perhaps limping, for over two weeks.  Needles and fish hooks, nipple and pussy clamps, speculum play as well as other large, stretching butt plugs and dildos, deprivation helmets and forced piss drinking were all on the list of her owner’s dungeon activities.  What would this afternoon bring?

A loud truck broke her reverie.  She glanced around at the light traffic and noticed the clock.  It was 11:30 pm.  She had been a “star” for almost nine hours.  She noticed the two one liter plastic bottles on the floor and sighed as she considered them – her souvenirs.  This returned her to the replay in her mind.

Hole got to the location – a large empty factory in a mainly vacated industrial park.  There were no other vehicles in the lot and at first she thought she was in the wrong place.  As she drove along the back she saw he brown door with a light over it and a sign next to it that read “Engineering office”.  This was the place.  She got out, locked her door and took her only personal effects – car keys and her driver’s license.  She walked to the door and as she got to it heard a buzzing sound.  She pulled it open and stepped inside.  The door closer shut it behind her and she looked back to notice a large magnetic door lock that insured that no one would get in (or out) easily.  Hole walked a long hallway past closed doors, and then it turned to the right and ended at a large room.  The room looked like it could have been a break room at one time, but now it was empty, dirt collected in the corners and an occasional spider web on the ceiling.  As she looked around a man walked in. 

“Hello!”  He greeted her.

“Hi” was her only response.

“I’m Trace.  I’m running this circus.  You must be the girl that Phil told me about.”  He looked her up and down, liking the view.  He was taller than her 5’7”, probably 6’1’.  His graying brown hair was short and thinning in the front; longer in the back, collecting on his neck.  He was lanky with arms that looked too long for his frame.  Grey eyes looked out under shaggy brows, across a nose that had seen more than too much abuse.

At first she seemed puzzled and then remembered who “Phil” was.  She hadn’t heard or thought of her owner’s name in several years.  He was simply “Sir” to her. 

“I’m Hole” she replied. 

“Hole?  That’s your name?”  He asked.  “Kind of unusual. But hey, that’s fine with me.”  He turned, motioning for her to follow.  “Shooting’s out here.  Let’s go through the release and disclaimer so we can get started.” 

Hole followed him out into a large area with a high ceiling – probably 3 stories.  Windows ran across the walls at the roofline. This likely used to be a manufacturing area, she thought.  She wondered what had been made here. 

A “shooting stage”, a smaller room constructed of 10’ tall frames with drapes hanging to the floor, stood out on the manufacturing floor.  At one corner the drapes didn’t quite meet allowing passage into the stage.  Trace led her into the stage and over to a video camera mounted on a tripod.

“Got your ID?” He asked?  He was getting the camera ready and turned on a pair of lights.  She handed him her drivers’ license and got a look at the stage area.   He handed her a sheet of paper and a pen.

“Sign this, fill in your name and other stuff on the top lines and then step over there on that tape line and read the last paragraph.”  She had to stop to think about her name, but he handed her the license back in time for her to read it.  She filled in the identification lines from her license, struggling to sign her real name.  She had been “Hole” for so long that her old name was lost to her.

“Hold the license under your chin and look at the camera as you read the release.”

She did as instructed while the red light on the camera glowed.  When she finished reading the release, the red light went out and Trace turned out the other lights as well.

“OK.  There’s a makeup table and light bar over there” he waved at the other end of the stage.  “Lots of lipstick, mascara and eye shadow.  Darken your eyebrows and put some rouge on your cheeks and nipples.  Powder your shoulders and tits a little.  It won’t last long but it’s the first impression that counts anyway.  Oh, and Phil said to give you this.”   He handed her an envelope and turned back to moving the camera.

She took the envelope and walked toward the makeup table.  Along the way she noticed 7 or 8 men standing in a group.  Several were wearing masks of different sorts; some had the masks pushed up on the top of their heads.  They were all bare chested, wearing shorts and shoes - some sandals, some sneakers; a few had well worn deck shoes.  Hole continued to the table and sat down in front of the mirror.  A switch on the side turned on the light bar on the top and sides of the mirror.  She opened the envelope and extracted a single sheet of paper.  There was no greeting, just the message.

“ Do everything you’re told.  Every cock should get a thorough blowjob every time one is presented to you.  NOT a gentle “Wifey” style bj. A full - throated, face slamming skull fuck that would amaze Annette Schwartz. Oh, I may have forgotten to mention that there might be some ass fucking.  If you didn’t get a chance to give yourself an enema, I don’t want to be embarrassed by you having a dirty ass.  As soon as any cock that might find it’s way into your ass is withdrawn, give it a thorough cleaning.  Complete licking and a full throat sucking to make sure it’s clean.  And swallow every drop that gets into your mouth. Make sure Trace understands what you are to do. NO EXCEPTIONS!  And remember to enjoy yourself.”

It wasn’t signed, but it didn’t need to be.  She knew his handwriting and wasn’t necessarily shocked at receiving the note.  The contents, however, caused her to pause.  “Forgotten to mention?” Hardly.  That was why he had gotten up much earlier than usual, which changed her daily schedule.  She hadn’t had time to tend to her normal daily toilet rituals, rushing around to serve her owner.  The instructions to leave had further distracted her and an enema was hardly on the top of her to-do list.  Furthermore her bowels were even more full than normal, thanks to an especially large dinner the night before.  And anal sex (NO! She reminded herself.  People have anal sex.  Property gets ass fucked) always stimulated her bowels anyway. 

Maybe there was a restroom she could sneak off to.  She quickly applied the makeup.  The colors weren’t correct for her pale skin and copper hair, but it was what she had.  Lots of eye shadow to run down her cheeks.  Bright lipstick to smear. Bright color for her nipples, maybe too bright. Tough, she thought.  She ran a brush through her hair, though it would be mussed soon enough. 

As she stood to look for a rest room Trace walked up to her. 

“You look great!  Wonderful!  The guy’s will be even more turned on than before.  Come on over to finish your prep.”

“Uh,” she started. ”Is there someplace to..” Hole started.  But Trace was walking off toward a box on a low-wheeled cart. 

“I could use a rest room,”  She called to his back.

Trace looked back at her as he walked on “Don’t worry, there will be ample opportunity in a few minutes.”  She followed him over to the box.  He opened the lid and turned to her. 

“I understand that you get off on tight bondage.  Phil said the stricter, the better.  Said that it really gets the juices flowing, so to speak.  He gave me a few ideas to start with.”  That figures, she thought.  This is getting to be tough to “enjoy”.

“What is the theme of the movie?” she inquired. 

“The working title is Asstravaganza.  That’s been used before so the final title will be different, but it’s focused on anal sex, in this case forced anal.  Also oral.  And he said you’ve never had it too rough, that you’re always asking for more.  These guys are guaranteed not to disappoint you.  Plus most of them can cum several times an hour.  I don’t know what they take.  Probably Viagra by the handful.  Oh, he also said you’d rather drink piss than water, so there is some of that written into the scene notes.”  He held up a handful of pages stapled together.  ASSTRAVAGANZA was printed across the front.  

She knew now what was to happen.  The cocks were definitely going to “find their way into her ass.”  Probably like a train wreck.  She had no limits, she was property.  She did what she was told by her owner.  But they had never explored this area.  She had assumed (wrongly, apparently) that he wasn’t interested in going to this extreme.  Then she corrected the thought.  “He’s not going to this extreme, I am.  He has me do it with someone else so he can watch it without getting soiled himself.  What you bet he does atm with me next time he decides to fuck me,” she thought,  “Better get it over with.”

“Trace,” she begins. ”Uh, I didn’t know all the details..uh I guess I wasn’t paying close attention.  I haven’t had an enema; so whenever one of the guys pulls out of my ass, make sure that he puts it to my mouth so I can clean it.  OK?”  This was delivered as lightly and as nonchalantly as she could, though her stomach was flipping over.

Trace looked surprised.  “You’re sure?  I could find some towels or something so they could clean up before..”

“No.”  She smiled, but not too brightly.  “Just make sure they move from my ass directly to my mouth.  They can fuck my mouth too, after I’ve cleaned them.” 

“That’s pretty heavy..” he replied.

“Well, ass to mouth is supposed to add some intensity by doing something a bit nasty,” She said.

Now Trace was incredulous.  “Phil said you could be surprising. I guess this is what he meant.  All right, then we change the scene progression.  Hey, that’s gonzo film making.  Always be ready to change to fit the opportunity.  I’m sure that my loyal fans will appreciate the added intensity.” 

Hole though to herself, “His fans would watch me get gun nailed down to a bench while a herd of Angus bulls fucked my ass and skull fucked my face for six hours without missing a stroke.  Probably wouldn’t even spill the popcorn.  Much less drop the Albolene.”    

Trace was now stirring around in the box.  Hole slipped over and took a look inside.  She wasn’t surprised at what she saw.  About half of the contents, she had experienced before.  Not just that they were similar to the “toys” her owner used, they WERE the toys her owner used.  Apparently Trace had obtained a selection from her owners’ dungeon.  She wondered when that could have happened, then remembered that she spent many hours in her “trench box”, her private torture cell.  There could have been plenty of opportunities while she was languishing in torment. 

Trace pulled out a collection of straps she recognized as her body harness.  He held it up trying to decipher how it fitted. 

After a half minute she said “Give it here.  I’ll put it on.”  She stepped into the round enclosed bands and pulled them up her thighs. Next came the waist belt, connected by two straps to each of the thigh rings. It buckled on the side with a locking ring.  At the top were shoulder straps and collar.  Attached in between was the open bra.  She squeezed her boobs through the opening of the bra rings and shook her shoulders to adjust it. She stretched around, pulling and tugging to get all the straps aligned correctly.  Then she reached up and buckled the collar and turned her back to Trace. 

“How about buckling the back,” she asked.  Trace pulled the buckle halves together and noticed that there wasn’t any adjustment.  The harness fit perfectly, though tightly.  It obviously had been tailored just for her. 

“Locks?” she inquired. 

Trace looked blank for a second, then said “Oh, yeah.”  He picked up three locks from a tray in the box and slipped them into the locking rings and snapped each hasp. Then he picked up two small bags with metal rings around the ends.  She held up one hand and started working it through the ring and into the bag.  Trace held the other one so she could get that one on as well.  Once on, her hands were folded into loose fists.  When a strap or cuff was secured around her wrist between the ring and her fist she wouldn’t be able to open her fist to withdraw her hand. He put a metal cuff around each wrist, locking them as well.  Each cuff had a short chain attached with a flat ring on the end. Trace picked up an arm pouch.  She crossed her arms behind her back and he slipped the pouch over her arms.  He fished the ring from each cuff through an opening above each elbow.  The ring was pulled around under the arm through a matching flat bracket on the underside of the pouch.  Yet another lock secured the rings. An attached belt in the middle of the pouch was pushed through a slot, around her arms and buckled tightly together. 

The top of the pouch was fitted with a strap that connected to the collar.  Another belt went around her chest, just under her tits and was buckled, then locked.  That rendered her arms folded and compressed against her back. 

Trace then picked up a small bag and extracted a harness and two small rubber blocks.  Hole automatically opened her mouth.  Each block fitted between her molars.  The blocks were slightly soft and pliable on the outside but solid inside.  The pliable rubber conformed around her teeth, keeping her from working them out with her tongue. The hard centers prevented her from closing her mouth.  The harness had a split chinstrap with ends that went up alongside her cheeks.  They met at the top where a top strap ran from a strap around her forehead down the back of her head to another collar.  Trace put the chinstrap under her chin then stretched the head straps up over her head and locked the collar around her neck.  The harness pressed tightly against her face and scalp, insuring that the blocks weren’t coming out; and neither was her mouth going to close. 

Ankle cuffs were locked around each ankle then Trace picked up the box and put it on the floor.  He gestured to the cart and she kneeled upon it.  He pulled each ankle up to its’ thigh and locked the ankle to the band.  She sat back on her feet while he fitted a spreader bar between her knees to finish her bondage.  Then he reached down into the box and withdrew a pair of weighted, toothed, flat spring clips.  He held them up to her and looked quizzically at her. She sighed and nodded her head.  He flicked her right nipple with his finger several times and rolled it with his finger and thumb.  She was already getting hot, her usually hard nipples perked up even more.  He put the clamp on it and repeated the process on the left side.  She closed her eyes and took as deep a breath as the harness allowed and slowly released it. 

The pain was pretty intense, but she had experienced these clamps many times.  Her adrenalin and endorphins were already ramping up, so the pain in her nipples blended into her restriction.  Her mind started moving to a more private space.  Hole felt her heart beat in her ears and throat.  She felt her pussy getting wet; she knew it would be dripping in a minute.  Both her natural proclivities and her conditioning started pushing her along a familiar path.  She breathed as deeply as she could through both her nose and mouth.  The added oxygen helped to calm her pulse.

“Ok, it’s time to shoot.”  Trace started pushing the cart towards the center of the stage area.  By this time the men had all put on their masks and removed their shorts but not their shoes.  The group watched as Trace brought the lovely package to the scene.  A couple of the guys started fondling their growing erections.  Hole counted nine.  All were well muscled; obviously they each spent plenty of time in the gym.  All of them also sported impressive cocks.  Some were starting to stand at attention, the rest were showing signs of interest.

“Line up and just hold it while I get the hardware situated.” Trace told them.  Suddenly lights positioned at the top of the drape frames and mounted on stands around the edges came on.  They weren’t terribly bright and everyone’s eyes quickly adjusted.  Trace went over behind the camera, the red light came on and he called out “Action!”

One of the hunks walked over and pushed the cart carrying Hole in front of the first cock in line.  Sitting back on her feet helped; he was tall enough that she didn’t have to duck her head much to reach the level of his cock.  He stepped up to the cart then grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to the edge.  Holding her head with one hand he grabbed his dick and pushed it into her mouth.  What she did next surprised him.  His cock was close to 10 inches long, but of a diameter that could easily pass through her open lips.  As he started to ease it into her hot, moist cavity she thrust her face upon the shaft, then backed her head slightly away and did it again.  By the fourth thrust she had impaled her throat upon the cock and began to face fuck herself vigorously. 

“SHIT” he exclaimed.  He could hardly believe what he was feeling; much less what he was watching as her copper colored hair flew around his crotch.  He held his hand on the back of her head, but she didn’t need either help or encouragement. As she pushed her face forward she sucked hard on his cock, as she withdraw she pressed her tongue on the bottom of the shaft, being careful not to push it onto her upper teeth. She kept it up at a remarkable rate for a minute, then two.  Before he could fully process what she was doing he took a deep breath, pulled her face forward until her nose was pressed tightly against his pubic bone and blew his load down her throat.  He shook all over as his close cropped pubic hair tickled her nose.

“Hey, hey, hey,” one male called out, another added “ WHOO HOO!” and several applauded.

The first one released her head and stepped back, stumbling slightly. 

“WOW!  Damn, this cunt is serious!” His face was red; sweat had popped out on his forehead.  The next “customer” stepped up quickly, his cock now harder than it was before.  He placed it in her mouth and she started over.  She felt the cock pounding against the back of her throat, this one a bit thicker, about as long as the first. 

She used the same technique, sucking hard and wiping her tongue along the bottom.  She breathed between every four strokes, taking a quick gasp before ramming her face back into his abdomen.  Hole began to feel like her name.  A hole for a cock to fill.  A semen receptacle.  Her frequent self-loathing began to morph into a feeling of something like satisfaction, or maybe completion. Like this was what she really deserved, this is what she was destined to do.  With the feeling of personal completeness came the realization that she was using her mouth to violently fuck a cock while bound beyond any movement other than her head.  The humiliation of reducing herself to nothing more than a human masturbatory appliance pushed her further into her valueless mindset.  Her hunger for further degradation began to grow.  Her actions became almost automatic, getting into a rhythm not unlike a bobble headed doll being shook vigorously.  The second one came quickly as well.  Neither man had had such an experience.  As the second one stepped back, the third stepped up.  His cock was about the same size as the first one.  He knew what to expect, so he just stuck his cock in, flexed his knees a bit and leaned back to watch.  The bobble head surrounded his cock and he felt engulfed by her heat. 

“Mmm hmmm.  MMM HHMM” he repeated.  The results were the same as the first two.  Three minutes later, he exclaimed “Whew!” falling back from her sucking throat.  Even as he had trembled and spasmed into her mouth, she had kept going until he pulled himself away. 

“Cut” Trace shouted.  “Hold up.  I’ve got to get this thing mobile.”  He quickly released the camera from the tripod mount and strapped a mobile harness around his waist and chest.  He attached the camera to the frame, checked his battery and sound level and shouted “And… Action!”  And so it continued.

Hole

Chapter 2

          This wasn’t the first time Hole had participated with multiple partners.  But every other time it was at a party or other gathering with her owner present.  He provided a semblance of security; she expected that he would prevent any serious harm from occurring.  Besides, all those present were members of a group that met infrequently but were at least familiar.  This time her owner had whored her out to an anonymous group, unidentifiable expect by size and taste (hardly an orthodox criteria.)  This was better than a bunch of bikers in an alley or the back of a third class bar.  The stage provided organization, the men were certainly interested, but not unruly.  She became what she unconsciously craved to be: an eager, enthusiastic orifice; a warm, wet, depository of the men’s bodily fluids; unable to protest, unable to resist. Her endorphins climbed, her adrenaline rose.  She truly became Hole.

The fourth in line had been watching, knowing what to expect.  He wasn’t interested in getting off quite as fast.  As she moved to begin her rapid fucking motion, he stopped her by holding the top of her head.  He tilted her head back so she could see through the mask into his eyes.  The mask was similar to a hockey goalies’ mask, but had been painted with red and orange flames. 

          “Nope, babe.  Not me.  I want a little more slow and deep action.”  He released her head and thrust forward into her throat.  She began again, barely slower than before.  Regardless of what the owner of this cock said, her owner was specific.  After a few more fast strokes, the cock was pulled from her mouth.

          “SLOW DOWN!” He commanded.  He then held her head just above her ears with both hands and began to slowly fuck her throat.

          “That’s better.” He said. “I want enough time to enjoy this.  Your mouth is a dream.”  This cock was longer than the others. He kept controlling the pace, taking long, deep strokes, reaching down into her throat. After a few minutes he looked away from Hole and noticed Trace holding up his right index finger and waving around in a small circle.  He realized that he needed to “wind it up” so released her head.

          “Ok, do your thing.  Or, maybe I should say, do MY thing.”  Immediately Hole began her frantic self impalement, taking the cock all the way down until her nose pressed against his abdomen.  She sucked hard, her cheeks hollowing on the out stroke, catching a breath through as much room as she could find around the cock as she pushed forward.  It didn’t take much longer.  He stiffened, then –

          “Oh, yeah.  OH… yeah.  OH…. YEAH…. BABY!”  He clutched the back of her head and slammed it into his belly, quivering, his knees shaking.  He jerked once, then twice then put his hands back on each side of her head and slowly pulled her back off of his cock.  

          “Now THAT was a blow job!”  He exclaimed, then stepped back. “Next!”  Number five stepped up to her mouth.

By the time the seventh cock had deposited its’ load down her throat, Hole was to feeling the effects of her bondage and the pounding of the cocks down her throat.  Her thighs were burning, her arches starting to cramp.  Her shoulders felt pinched.  Being bound for long periods was a standard condition for her, but still, the physiology doesn’t change.  The constant thrusting into her throat was bruising her palate as well as the back of her tongue.  Her mascara was running, both from perspiration as well as the tearing that results from slamming her face into each male’s abdomen.  Drool dripped in strings from her mouth and chin, collecting in her cleavage and forming a puddle between her knees.  A string of pussy drool stretched from her now open labia to form a pool behind the puddle from her mouth. Her lower lips were pink and gapping.  She had managed to catch almost every drop of semen that had been squirted into her mouth and throat.  What few drops didn’t go down were diluted by so much drool that none was identifiable, so at least so far she had obeyed her owner’s instructions.

          The eighth cock presented a problem.  The dental blocks she wore were sized for her owner’s cock.  Too large and her mouth wouldn’t deliver sufficient contact with the cock sliding in.  Too small and the space between her teeth would be so small that her teeth would scrape the cock as it slid in and out – which was totally unacceptable.  The blocks also insured that too large a cock wouldn’t be forced down her gullet and incur damage. She had endured many a skull fucking, sometimes for hours, so the process wasn’t so debilitating as to cause panic, even when her air was cut off by an over-excited, hard thrust ejaculation. This cock was the same length as her owner’s, but significantly larger in diameter. This cock just wouldn’t fit.  The head and part of the shaft would pass her teeth. She licked it and sucked on it as much as she could reach. She stuck her tongue as far out as she could reach.  But it wasn’t going down.  And His instructions were quite clear:  EVERY cock had to go down her throat.  Catch 22.  Her owner had set her up again.  There would be hell to pay, plus interest.

          “Cut!”  Trace called out.  “Let’s take a breather.  While our star here catches her breath, let’s set up an alternative scene.” 

Hole was thankful for the break.  Her breath had gotten short, leaving her slightly light-headed.  As she replenished her oxygen level, her cramping limbs reminded her that her muscles were even more depleted. She squirmed around, trying to get some relief, but consigned herself to the fact that it would be a while before she would be allowed to stretch. She snorted back some of the snot that had accumulated in her nose, wanting to spit, but deciding that with what she had swallowed already (much less what she expected to come later) that just getting a clearer air passage was paramount.

          Trace collaborated with the guy whose dick wouldn’t pass her teeth.  Rather than changing the bondage they decided to intensify the situation.  They repositioned everyone to about where they had been at the end of the previous shot and Trace moved down to get a closer facial shot.  While they talked, Hole looked around.  She rolled her shoulders as best she could, trying to loosen them up.  She noticed that several of the guys had bottles of water, a couple had iced tea, a couple were drinking beer.  She watched one tip the bottle up, finish it and toss it into a large trashcan.  By the sound, the can was far from empty.

          Trace finished with his consult, motioned to the group to move a bit closer. 

“Ok.  We’re segueing into the next scene.  Don will set the tone.  Charles, you pick up after Don finishes so you can get your rocks off, then we reset the stage.  Everybody ready?”  He asked.  Everyone seemed comfortable, then:

“Action!”  He called, and the over width cock was again presented to Hole’s mouth.  He struggled a few times while she licked at the bulbous head.  He grasped her hair at the back of her skull then pulled her head back hard, giving her a look at the ceiling.

          “Don’t like it, bitch?  Don’t want my cock?” He growled at her.  “All right, let’s see if I can get your attention with this.”  He produced a thin three-foot long fiberglass rod.  He flexed it between his hands then swished it through the air several times right in front of her tits.

          “Like this any better?”  He asked while slicing the rod into the top of her boobs.  It wasn’t as hard a stroke as she was used to, but it was hard enough to sting like hell.  Another cut caught the bottom of her boobs.  Trace was on the floor, catching the strokes and her face framed behind her tits.  Another stroke swished from above the lens, seen through the viewfinder it looked like it came from the camera itself.  Again, the top of her tits produced a stripe. He repeated one on the underside, then reached in and the removed the clamp from her right nipple. The returning blood and feeling made her stiffen, then he removed the other one.  The two points of pain distracted her, briefly.  As she seemed to recover from the sudden pain the rod swished down and caught both of her nipples.  This one made her gasp and screech.

          “Oh, you like that, huh?” He sneered.  “ Have a few more.”  The rod delivered three more welts, on the top and bottom of each areola then another through both protruding nubs.  She gave a high-pitched squeal after each impact. He paused, considering his next target.  He walked around behind her, Trace following with the camera, maintaining a low view.  He swished it through the air again then planted a stroke across the top of her ass cheeks.  Two more landed almost on top of the first.  He changed his angle and brought the rod down vertically between her cheeks.  He dropped the rod and grabbed her by the shoulders, moving her back on the cart and laying her face down, resting on her now bruised tits and her left cheek.  He picked up the rod again and stood to her left side so she could see what was coming.  The soles of her feet as well as the middle of her ass now stood out as new targets.  He struck the bottom of her left foot, not as hard as on her butt, but the tender flesh didn’t require as much force to sting just as much as her boobs had. 

She inhaled sharply and an “EEEE!” exited her mouth.  Again the rod landed on the left sole, then two to the right side.  Her shrieks matched each strike. He changed his angle to deliver a harder cut to her ass just under the ends of her toes. This earned him a moan. He worked his way up to the stripe that he had first delivered at the top of her ass. Her eyes were now closed, as she tried to get into the pain.  The rapidity of the lashing, without any time to react and absorb the pain, interfered with her normal reactive process.  Thankfully he stopped, walking around, choosing the next spot to be punished.  He stopped directly behind her and delivered a stripe to the left side of her crack, just inside the curve going down to her pucker.  Another matched it on the right.  Then another on the left, just inside the first one.  He alternated sides, keeping the stripes close together until the next obvious target was her asshole itself.  He walked around to her side and kneeled down, placing his face close to hers.  The mask was made of fabric, like silk, stretched across his features.  It was almost possible to make out is appearance, but it was mottled in blue and green streaks, breaking up the dimensions like camouflage.   His eyes searched her face, then settled on her eyes.

“Guess where I’m going to hit you next?  Got it figured out?”  He waited, then, she nodded.

“Ready?” he asked. She shook her head.  “Wrong answer. Here’s how it works.  The longer you wait to tell me you’re ready, that you WANT it, the more strokes you get.  I figure you’re up to five so far.  Every second you delay, you get another stroke.  So that’s six.  Ready now?”  This time she nodded.

“So, do you want it?”  She nodded again.  “Right on the pucker?”  Again, the nod. “And have you figured out how you’re going to thank you for your punishment and apologize for not sucking my cock?”  Her eyes closed, she nodded again.

“Count each stroke.”  The rod swished again, landing directly on her anus. “AHH.  AUN.” Her trapped open mouth made it difficult to enunciate the word. He again returned to lean into her face. 

He spoke calmly, sinisterly. “You need to speak more clearly.  If I can’t understand what you say, I’ll just

keep hitting you until you can be understood.” He grinned at her, parted his lips and licked all around them.  “You look delicious.  Just need a little tenderizing.”  He grinned again and moved out of her sight.

Crack.  “AAHH.  OOH.” She moaned.

“That’s better.  Of course, ‘two’ is easier to say with an open mouth.  Let’s try another”

Swish.  “REE!”  Her count came out as a scream.

“Not bad.  But it could improve.” He waited, letting her tension build.  Smack. “ORR.”  Smack. “IVE!”

“ That one wasn’t too clear.  Let’s try it again.”

Swish.  “HIVE!” “A little better.  Let’s move on.”

Smack.  “IIX!”  She had managed to add a bit of tongue to the sound so as to approximate an “s” sound without closing her teeth.

“Ok, let’s get on to the apology.”  He lifted her back to her knees.  Her now sore ass and feet bore her weight.  She winced as she wiggled around trying to find a position that didn’t hurt quite as much.  Tears clouded her eyes, washing more mascara down her cheeks.  The raccoon mask stretched between the strings of hair framing her face.

“How are you going to apologize, bitch?”  She stuck her tongue out and wiggled it at him.

“You already tried that. Unacceptable.” His tone was sneering.  She rotated her head around, as if moving something with her face.

“Do you want something?”  He asked.  She nodded and rotated her head again. “Want me to turn around?”  She closed her eyes and nodded once more.  “Want to lick something behind me?  Tell me what you want to lick.”

“Ur ahh ohh.” She tried again. “urr aas ule.”  It was barely decipherable.

He grinned, turned around and bent over. He reached back and pulled his ass cheeks apart, then took a step back, pressing his ass crack into her face.  She began licking earnestly, laving both sides of the pucker, circling around it, and then pressing her mouth against the opening.  She pushed her tongue against the wrinkled orifice, licking and probing.  He kept his cheeks parted for her, at least giving her a chance to breathe. 

“Suck on it.”  He ordered.  She did.  She pushed her open lips hard around his asshole and began to suck.  He pushed his hole, like he was passing a turd. She felt the pucker start to expand and pressed her tongue against the center.  His ass hole winked at her tongue several more times, allowing her to get the point into his ass.

“Lick and suck.  If you apologize good enough I’ll give you a treat.”  With that she stiffened slightly, but didn’t stop. Finally he pulled away and straightened up.

“Did you enjoy that?”  He asked condescendingly.  She shook her head slightly.  “I didn’t hear you.  Did you enjoy that?” 

Suddenly she understood what he said and started nodding vigorously.  “UH Huh. UH HUH” 

“Better have.  Now, I think it’s time for me to get off.”  He placed the head of his cock against her lips.  She sucked on the head and the part that would fit, being careful not to scrape him with her teeth. 

He pulled out and held in front of her mouth. “Lick it all over.  Get it wet.  Then suck the head.”  She began licking as quickly as she could, straining her neck to reach every bit of it.  She slobbered all over it, then he pulled it away, then put back into her mouth. 

“Now SUCK IT!”  He commanded.  As she took the head as far as she could into her mouth he began to stroke himself, jerking it swiftly back and forth.  This continued for several minutes, with her working her tongue, cheeks hollowing as she sucked, mouth fucking as much of his cock as would fit.  His face grew red, sweat starting to bead on his face.

Finally he exclaimed “Ahh…yeeaahh.”  His body jerked as he gave his cock several slow strokes.  Hole captured every drop, sucking hard as each spurt struck the back of her mouth. The torrent turned into a trickle.  She licked at the slit, wiping it as the final drops oozed onto her tongue.  He slowly pulled his cock out of her mouth with a slurp from her lips.

“The next time, I’m taking the headgear off.  Then I’m gonna fuck your face ‘till you can’t talk for a week.”  His eyes narrowed as he delivered the promise.  She knew that he would, too.

Cock owner number nine stepped up and placed the head of his shaft between her lips. He was tall and rangy, with broad shoulders, and black.

 “My turn.”  He said with a deep baritone voice.  This cock was just thin enough to slip inside her mouth but it was the longest of the bunch by far.  She needed to get used to the penetration again.  She started over, moving her mouth deeper on each thrust.  By the fifth stroke she succeeded in getting the head down her throat.  The next push sent it further down than she could remember any cock going. It felt like she was deep throating a pool cue.  She backed off and felt the lump pull past the back of her throat.  She began her frantic mouth fucking, but this time it was difficult getting the head of the cock far enough out of her throat to catch a breath. She couldn’t gobble this one as fast as the others and knew that she would be punished for this deficiency as well.  She obviously wasn’t showing how much she “enjoyed” this cock.  She kept at it, as fast as she could manage.  He held out longer than the rest, whether from her slowing down or just his ability to hold off, she didn’t know.  She began to feel dizzy from lack of oxygen, but she still kept moving, fucking him with her face, fulfilling her unwanted desires: to be a hole for a cock. Finally he tensed, started blowing deeply, and gasped once, twice and just quivered as he squirted into her mouth.  She felt him stiffen, then gasp as the thick spunk coated her tongue. She sucked it down, moaning “MMM. MMM.”  At least she wanted to demonstrate how much she enjoyed it.

“CUT!”

Hole

Chapter 3

 Trace had stopped the scene just a little early.  The camera missed Hole licking out to catch the string of saliva that stretched to his cock, then she looked like a striking snake as she swallowed the long cock one more time.

          “Ahh.” She croaked.  Then settled back on her calves.  Trace just looked down and slowly shook his head.

           “Break time.” He called. “We’ve got to reset the scene.  Don’t go far, be ready in ten minutes.”  He walked over to Hole. 

          “You’re amazing.  So far, this isn’t exactly what I planned.  But it’s hotter than hell, so we’ll go with it.  The next scene requires a different costume…such as it is.”  He grabbed a towel and wiped her face, neck and chest, then began to release her from her bonds.  He removed the head harness, and she spit the dental blocks into his hand.

          “Huh!”  She exclaimed, shaking her head and working her jaw back and forth, up and down.

          “You’ve done this a lot, I guess.” Trace asked.

“Not exactly,” She replied. “I’ve been into bondage a while, but not with a group of strangers.  It’s a little unnerving.”

“Yeah, I can see that.  But I am careful about who I hire and I brief them pretty well before we start.  They have a financial incentive to behave.  If they don’t, all they get out of it is the sex, plus no further shots at another film.  There are a couple of other strings I’ve got as well.  So they’ll do what they’re supposed to.  You’ll be ok…at least you won’t be injured.  You might be uncomfortable tomorrow, though.”  He answered.

“I’m going to be sore already.  I can’t wait to see what the rest of the day brings.”  She said in a low voice.

Trace grinned at her.  “It’s a little bit more…intense in the next scenes.  You’ll be ok.  I understand you’ve done a lot harder stuff.”

She looked at him then asked, “Just what do you think I’ve done?”

“Well…Phil said you’re pretty tough, hard to discourage from finishing what you start.”  Trace explained. “ He said you’ve got a lot of perseverance.”

She replied, “I’ll do what I say I’ll do.  What did I tell YOU I’d do here?”

Trace thought a few seconds, “Phil said you do what ever I wanted to, once I described what the set up was.  Of course, that was him, not you.”

Hole paused, then said, “Then I’ll do whatever you say.  If that’s what he said, that’s what I’ll do.”

“You must have a lot of trust him then,” Trace said.

“You can’t imagine.”  She answered

Trace was removing the rest of her bonds as they talked.  The pouch, the mitts, then straps, then the body harness.  She finally got a chance to stand up and stretch.  Extending her legs, she started to stand, then staggered a few steps.  Trace grabbed her and helped her sit down on the cart. 

          “Be careful.  Your legs haven’t got enough circulation yet.  Just sit a minute. Want something to drink?”  Trace asked gently.

          “Please.  That would be nice.”  She watched as Trace walked over to a cooler and extracted a bottle of water.

“This ok?” He asked.

“Great!” She smiled back.

          “Ok.  Take a break, I’ve got a bunch of stuff to do to get ready for the next scene.”  Trace told her, then walked through the corner gap and disappeared.  

          Hole rolled her shoulders, then rolled her head back and forth from shoulder to shoulder.  She then stood up carefully, testing each foot and leg for stability.  She continued rolling her shoulders and swinging her arms, alternating swinging across her chest and over her head while walking around the stage.  The kinks slowly worked free.  Hole wondered what was next.  She didn’t wonder long.

The drape frame at the open corner was pulled away slightly and several of her fellow actors pulled

in a large steel frame on heavy duty castors.  It stood nine feet tall and five feet wide.  It was actually a frame within a frame, with a pair of large axles connecting the two in the middle.  At each corner was a welded ring, at the bottom, next to the rings, were a pair of flat plates.  Hole knew immediately what was on tap.  Trace walked over to her and put his hand around an elbow. 

“Step over here and I’ll get you ready.”  He told her.  He steered her over to the box again, then began pulling out more items.  First was a leather hood with laces down the back.  Then he took out a pair of suspension mitts, next, ankle restraints.  Trace put the hood over the top of her head, fitting the leather around her features.  The nose was centered, then the chin.  The mouth was unzipped, the nose had a series of small holes.   The eyes were zipped closed.  Darkness enveloped her as the hood was pulled back.  She felt him start pulling the laces through the eyelets, tightening them as he went.  The hood got tighter with every tug.  Finally the laces were tight, he knotted them and tucked them into a fold on the neck of the hood.  A strap was buckled and then locked at the back of her neck. 

“Is that alright?” Trace asked.  His voice was muffled by the leather. 

“Yes.”  Was her only reply.

He picked up a mitt and slipped it over her right hand and pulled it up her forearm.  It too was laced, then a flap buckled over the end and locked.  More straps were pulled and buckled from her wrist up to the end of the sleeve.  Trace then did the left hand.  Each hand was encased in a thumbless mitten that allowed her to wrap her fingers around a bar attached to the suspension straps.  The ankle bound were almost like boots, but without a hard sole.  They also laced up her leg to midcalf.  A pair of straps hung down, each strap was finished with a ring.  Trace pushed a short cock gag against her teeth, she opened her mouth as wide as the hood allowed, he pushed the gag in and worked it behind her teeth. A flange sealed it against the helmet, a hole through the middle allowed her to breath through it. The strap was cinched tight, buckled and locked.  He led her over to the frame.  Trace picked up her right foot and placed it on the step.  He stepped up on a stool that had been placed next to the frame then grabbed the straps of her right hand, lifted them up and pulled her up onto the frame step.  While she balanced on the step he reached up and locked the suspension straps onto the ring.  He went to other side and repeated the actions.  Then he stretched her feet to the edge of the step against the frame and locked the ankle straps to their respective rings.

Trace walked over to the ring of beefcake watching the procedure.

“Who has ever used a whip on another person before?”  He asked.  Don lifted a finger, but Trace knew that he was experienced.  Charles, the tall black actor also raised his hand.  “Anyone else?”  Several shook their heads to indicate “no”.

Trace started handing out whips and cats.  “These are all either latex, pvc or soft suede.  They let you swing it pretty hard then make a sound that is louder than it actually feels.  Try them on your thigh, then trade swings with someone else.  Swap them around so you can feel what they’re like.”  Each man swished his implement of chastisement.  A few started hitting his own leg, then his back.  Don picked out a single tail and a heavy flogger.  Charles chose a long horsehair brush flogger and a long crop.  The other men were slashing at each other, getting accustomed to how each felt to give and receive a few lashes. 

“Just because these don’t hit too hard doesn’t mean you don’t need to pay attention to what your doing.  We’ll start with one on either side of her, then add another per side, then rotate the first two away so that four are whipping her at the same time.  With all of these going at once, even a soft cat can sting after a dozen strokes.  I want you to build on the scene, plus it’ll help y’all get ready for the follow-up.  I need a quick recovery from that bj you got earlier.  I don’t want her injured, just warmed up.  When her skin picks up a pink glow then

Don and Charles will pick a few specific points to stimulate.  Once they’ve finished their first round we’ll shift her.”  Trace wanted to make sure that the inexperienced guys didn’t get too enthusiastic and bring the shoot to a premature finish. 

          Trace set the camera on a tripod and had an assistant hold the shot.  Another strapped on a Steadicam Flyer harness.  He was actually a professional photographer Trace used when the shoot justified it; this job more that justified him.  The Flyer allowed the cameraman to move smoothly around, getting graceful shots and pans from angles and positions that weren’t possible with just a hand held.  Trace motioned the guys to move around and lined up the sequence he desired.  He made sure everything was ready, then yelled

          “ACTION!” And two of the actors moved up and started lightly flogging Hole.  After a few minutes, two more moved up and the first two shuffled to give them room.  The lashes fell all over her, tits, shoulders, ass, legs, feet, arms.  The guys moved all over, selecting a new target after a half dozen strokes.  The tension from being stretched into immobility, the isolation of the hood, the smell of the leather and her sweat, added to the falling lashes of the whips, landing without warning of the target, quickly cranked up her endorphins.  In the melee of her senses she vaguely realized that the frame was just too perfectly fitted to her.  She suspected that she would be visiting this new toy again in the not too distant future.  Hole squirmed as much as she could, the bondage allowing but little movement other than her head.  Her low moans could barely be heard.  Trace picked up on one of them and grabbed a shotgun microphone and aimed it at the helmet.  He fitted the mic to a stand and kept it focused on her.  The bondage made it easier to keep it on target.  Her skin began to glisten from her sweat, the aroma more than just normal perspiration.  The guys picked up her pheromone scent unconsciously and their pricks began to stand up to attention. She was lightly striped all over and her skin was holding a pink cast.  Out of the camera angle, Trace motioned for Don to step up to her back.  Don started swinging the single tail back and forth while the other guys backed out.  Charles stepped up to her front and began rotating the brush around vertically.  Don gave her a few seconds rest then moved the lash to barely graze her butt cheeks just at the bottom of her spine.  Back and forth, moving lightly down her butt.  As he got to the top of her legs the whip picked up a bit of speed and gathered a more direct stroke. 

          “MMHHH.” Came from the hood.  At that point Charles moved in with the horsehair and painted her left tit, moving to the right.

          “MMMMMM.MMMMM.”  The leather under her nose pulled in tightly as she pulled for more air.  She sucked through the gag as hard she could, straining for every molecule of oxygen she could gather.  She caught up to the action, breathing as deeply as she possible, being stretched as tightly as she was, slowing down her gasps as the intensity built.  Don worked down one leg, then started at the top of her other leg and worked down.  He backed the circle of rotating hair back and positioned it to just contact her right nipple.  It felt to Hole like a flame was being passed across it with every touch.  She started to quiver, so Charles moved to her left nipple and got the same response. Charles worked under her arms then down her stomach, the rotation moving in a counterclockwise direction.  They worked methodically until she was completely covered.   Trace motioned for Don and Charles to move back and two others to move in, moving his hand palm down up and down, signaling to “hold it down”.  After thirty seconds he yelled “CUT”.  And the whips stopped.  Hole hung there, breathing as deeply as possible.  Trace stepped up on stool and unlocked the gag, prying it out of her mouth.  She pulled large lungfulls into her chest, her tits moving up and down even through the tension of her bondage.  While she caught up, Trace explained the next part. 

          “These pins,” he pointed to two pins on the outside edges of both sides of the frame, “come out, allowing the frame to rotate her upside down.  Do it S_LO_W_L_Y  so it doesn’t flip over too quick.  I don’t want any of you getting hit and I don’t want her to toss her lunch.”  He grinned.  “She’ll get a chance for that later. We’ll pick back up with the same pair in about the same place to match the previous shot, then Don and Charles will pull the pins and turn her over.  Then put the pins back in and we start over with her upside down.  Same order as before.  Ready?” He asked the men.  Nods all around, then he pointed to the other cameraman and the assistant getting wide shots. They also nodded.  By now she was breathing more closely to normal. He replaced the gag and locked it.  Trace stepped out of the scene and said

“Ok, roll it….ACTION!” 

The same two guys began again, renewing the stripes.  Then Don and Charles moved in, held the frame steady and pulled the pins.  They smoothly turned her over, catching her at the bottom of the swing so she wouldn’t pendulum.  They fitted the pins back in and stepped back.  Back came the whips.  The lashes caught the same skin, but the sensation was different.  Hole was expecting the change, but it was still disorienting.  She had no visual reference, little aural reference and her balance had to settle down to set her position.  The lashes started again - of course no warning - falling on already very sensitive skin.  The lashes found the inside of her thighs, her ankles and of course, her cunt.  The very tender undersides of her tits also received attention, as well as her underarms.  Since she was already warmed up, Trace motioned them to move a little faster through the rotation.  Finally he motioned for Don and Charles to step back up.  This time Charles had her back and Don her front.  They had changed their weapons, Charles with the crop and Don with the flogger.  Don knew that he had to be careful not to swing hard enough to deliver large bruises; she was already starting to bruise from the action thus far.  Plus the flogger could render serious damage.  He wanted to impress the viewers without sending her to the hospital.  Don started out tapping her feet.  The movement had allowed her feet to drop down off the steps, providing a juicy target.  Her feet were already sore from the fiberglass canning she received from Don, so Charles carefully picked each toe, moving across with each digit getting a single sting.  The moved back and forth until each toe had six strokes, then popped her insteps.  Her legs jerked slightly, the foot twisting as much as the restraints allowed.  Charles easily followed the slight movements, never varying a slow methodical rhythm.  Then he moved to the back of her knees.  Down to her ass, moving from one thigh to the other.  He delivered several light strokes then a brisk one, but with no discernible pattern. Finally he reached the juncture of her legs and paused, allowing the anticipation to build.  He started rapidly and lightly tapping around her cunt and asshole, increasing the velocity. The entire area, devoid of any trace of hair, was a bright cherry red.  He paused again and then popped her directly on her anus.  Then he did the same stroke a little bit further forward, slicing into her cunt and catching her clit with the looped tip.  This brought as much of a screech as she could muster. She began to tremble, her abdomen jerking back and forth.  Each strike of the crop into her cunt splattered juice, more was running down her ass to her back. Don was slapping her randomly, hitting her hips, her abdomen, of course the underside off her tits and upper sides.  The flogger served to distract her from the crop, until a sharp stroke refocused her attention.  Another louder moan came from the hood and she twisted violently again.  She jerked with every impact of the crop, apparently cumming with great ferocity. Trace didn’t want to leave her upside down too long.  She had already had enough chastisement to use in several other films.  After a half dozen strikes each to her cunt and asshole, each time drawing a jerking shudder, Trace yelled,

“CUT”. 

He made a flipping motion with his hand and Don And Charles righted her.  He hurried up to her and removed the ball gag and unlocked first her feet then her wrists.  He caught her in his arms and put her down on the cart, her legs splaying off the sides.  He turned her onto her side, unlocking the strap and loosening the laces.  He worked the helmet off, her hair a soaking mess.  Copper curls slid out, pulled by the helmet, covering her face. Her eyes were partially closed, she breathed hard. Her mouth was open, nostrils flaring with each breath.  Trace started to rub her shoulders and she jerked.  He realized that there wasn’t much skin that hadn’t been tormented.  He rubbed her temples and her cheeks.  He bent down close to her and said gently.  “You alright?”  She didn’t reply but after a few seconds gave a slight nod.  His assistant came up with a mister full of water.  Trace sprayed her shoulders and chest, this produced a shudder and a deep gasp, then long, slow deep breaths.  Trace misted her back, then her front, making sure to sooth her tit and pussy.  She twitched as the water mist hit her cunt, but didn’t move away.  She slowly moved to turn onto her back and grimaced as her back made contact with the cart top.  Her eyelids fluttered and opened a bit more. “Drink.  Water.”  She croaked and Trace realized how dehydrated she was.  He motioned for a water bottle, opened it and allowed a few drops to hit her lips.  She licked them then opened her mouth.  Her eyes were still half closed.  Trace poured a small sip into the side of her mouth, she swallowed and opened her mouth for more.  He continued until she had drunk half the bottle and then she slowly opened her eyes.

“MOTHER FUCKER!” She croaked, then looked around.  The guys all cheered and clapped, she gave a slight smile.  Trace said. “Let’s take a break.”  Hole weakly nodded and closed her eyes.

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!”