Our Only Hope - S01 E20

Story 10 months ago

Our Only Hope - S01 E20

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 20

The one Wyatt had called Ted walked down the line of girls clipping the thin chains to something while Bill walked back into the darkness. Bill returned shortly wheeling a cart which appeared to have four bowling balls on it and a number of smaller balls. There was a short chain and clip attached to each of the balls.

Ted stood in front of the first girl and gruffly ordered, “Up!” She raised her hands above her head and held them out slightly so that they were against the pipe that surrounded her. Ted handcuffed her left wrist to the upright pipe and then pressed a wooden handle into her hand that he had attached to a thin chain that went up to a pulley and then looped back down to end just above the girl’s eye level. Bill connected one of the small balls to the end of that cable while Ted tied the rope from the left nipple clamp to the chain. The intent was pretty obvious. As long as the girl held on to the handle, all was fine, but as soon as she let go, the clip would be ripped painfully off her nipple. They repeated the procedure for her right side and then moved on to the next girl.

After they finished with the fourth girl, they returned to the first and Ted ordered, “Open!” The girl opened her mouth and Ted pushed a short piece of leather into her mouth. He then pulled down the center chain and clipped it to the piece of leather. Bill lifted up the bowling ball and held it in place while Ted clipped it to the other end of the chain. Once it was in place and the girl was desperately holding it in place with her teeth, Ted tied the ropes from the clothespins to the chain. Again, the purpose was obvious. As long as the girl bit down tightly on the piece of leather, all was good, but as soon as she opened her mouth, the bowling ball would fall and the clothespins would be ripped from her body.

“As you can see,” Wyatt said triumphantly once the goons had stepped out of the spotlights, “we have given each of these girls a really good reason to hold on as long as possible.” He paused and surveyed the room. “But which one will be able to hold back her orgasm for the longest? Will it be slave number one?.. or slave number two?... or slave number three?.. or slave number four?” As he spoke, he moved down the row gesturing proudly to each girl. “Bill and Ted will now take your bets,” he gushed, “and as soon as we get at least $600 we will begin the contest.”

One of the hulking assistants stood next to me with his hand out. I gave him a smile, even though I really wanted to punch him out, and placed a fifty in his palm. “Number?” he asked, and I said, “Number three.” He replied, “Time?” and I reflexively sputtered, “What?”

“If there is a tie,” he said slowly, “the one closest to the time is the winner.”

“OK,” I said. “Put me down for eight minutes.”

He nodded, but didn’t write anything down. Instead he just walked over to the next table and stuck out his hand. This whole operation was one shake down after another.

While I was busy with the assistant, I missed Wyatt bringing out a large clock and setting it in the front middle of the stage. It was already there by the time my attention turned back to the lit area. I did, however, get to watch Wyatt struggle with a heavy extension cord as he plugged the platform into a heavy duty outlet on the back wall. Those four Symbians must put a strain on a regular circuiti, but more importantly why would Wyatt be doing something minor like that? The answer was obvious. Except for the naked prostitute waitresses, and of course the women on the Sybians, this was a cheap-ass three-man show. I was liking my odds more and more.

The two goons finished collecting the bets. I noticed that they both had to go over and glare at the college students in order to get them to cough up more money. None of the drunk boys looked too happy about that and one started to mouth off, but a second student, who appeared to be the designated driver, stepped between them and got his friend to sit down before things got rough.

Bill... or maybe it was Ted... delivered the cash to Wyatt who quickly counted it out and announced, “We have seven hundred thirty dollars in the pool. That means the winning slave gets three-fifteen and the winning bet also gets three-fifteen.” From the look of determination which suddenly appeared on the four contestants, maybe he was telling the truth and the girls were really in it for the money, even if they didn’t get their full half.

The other muscle meanwhile walked off into the darkness and came back with a controller box with two knobs on it. Having seen Sybian controllers before, I recognized the knobs as the controls for the intensity of vibration and speed of the wobble for the front dildo. If I had been doing a show similar to this, I would have demonstrated an empty Sybian for the crowd before having the girls impale themselves on the twin dildos. The Sybian can be set up with just a bump on the saddle, but the twin dildo arrangement with the front dildo capable of wobble and rotation is much more intense. Of course, I– when necessary– am a much better showman that someone like Little Brother.

A mild hum began to fill the room and the four girls tensed up, trying to push the sensations down and away from themselves. The human mind is funny like that. If you are dealing with pain, sometimes the best way to handle it is to go into the pain and accept it. In that way, the body begins to disregard it as pain and just considers it one more sensation. Pain sluts can even experience that sensation as pleasure rather than pain. But pleasure is a whole different game. If you let pleasure in, it remains pleasure and can overwhelm you. The only way to handle an overload of pleasure is to keep pushing it aside and continually building taller and taller walls against it until it finally comes crashing over the top of your dam.

All four girls were concentrating pretty hard on ignoring the vibration that was coursing through their pelvises. With the intensity of the vibration and the wobble of the front dildo, there was no searching for the G spot. It was vibrating with the rest of the girl’s bottom and the dildo was brushing past it with each rotation.

Wyatt held up the controller for everyone to see and moved both knobs up a little. The hum increased and slave number one gave a soft, shrieking gasp. All four girls were starting to perspire slightly. Their skins were now reflecting the light of the spotlights.

The hum increased and slave one was now audibly whimpering. The hum increased again and her whimpering became louder and faster. The “uh, uh, uh, uh,” was obviously in time with the rotation of the dildo within her. The other three remained silent, but their muscles were growing more and more tense, and the smaller balls attached to the chains in their hands were rising slowly into the air as they pulled downward with their arms.

Wyatt waved the controller above his head and smiled widely at the crowd. He dramatically held his hand on one of the knobs and twisted. The hum dropped to zero for just an instant and then returned at perhaps twice the volume as before.

A muffled shriek followed by a loud scream filled the room as the two small balls in front of slave number three dropped almost down to the platform pulling the nipple clamps violently off her nipples. That was followed almost immediately by the large bowling ball dropping all the way down to the platform with a loud thud. The falling bowling ball had ripped both strings of clothespins off the screaming slave’s abdomen. Oh well, I hadn’t planned on winning my bet anyway.

“Such a pity,” Wyatt said with a smirk. “She didn’t even get a good orgasm out of it.”

The clips and pins had now been pulled from slave number three’s nipples and abdomen, but she was not free of the Sybian and her wrists were still handcuffed to the pipes alongside her. She vainly tried to throw herself off her vibrating tormentor, but was unsuccessful. She wailed in despair as Wyatt held up the controller and once again increased the intensity of the vibration and rotation. The other three girls, meanwhile, remained grimly focused on holding off their building orgasms.

“Seven!” Wyatt called out and the humming increased. He waited a couple of minutes and then called out “Eight!” He was just about to call out “Nine!” when slave number one let out a deep groan that soon morphed into a shrill scream as the two small balls and the bowling ball crashed down. She was obviously in the throws of an orgasm as the pain tore through her. Her cry was clearly a combination of pain and passion... leaning heavily toward pain.

Wyatt waited for her cries to fade before holding up the controller and calling out “Nine!”

Both remaining slaves were visibly shuddering, trying to hold off the inevitable.

A few minutes later Wyatt called out, “That’s maximum,” and began walking back and forth in front of the two women. It wasn’t very long before slave number four lost control. The balls dropped, and the nipple clamps and clothespins were torn from her body, but she made almost no noise. Instead she gave a low groaning sigh as she trembled on top of the Sybian.

Only slave number two was left. She took a deep breath and very intentionally let go of the two handles allowing the small balls to drop. She took another breath and tilted her head back, releasing the leather bit which held up the heavy ball. The bowling ball dropped immediately, tearing the clothespins from her abdomen. As they pulled off, she gave out a deep, moaning groan that was very obviously a cry of passion, not pain. Evidently, slave number four was a pain slut who was able to turn the entire experience into one of pleasure.

One of the students in the front row stood up whooping, “I won! I won! I won!”

“Pay the man!” Wyatt called out and Bill and Ted walked over to the students. One of them peeled off several bills from a large roll and handed them to the student. They stood calmly staring at him for a moment until he got the hint and handed back two bills as a tip to them. They then walked up to the lit area, unplugged the platform and pushed it back into the darkness. The Sybians stopped immediately, but the four women continued to moan and whimper as they were wheeled away.

As the goons walked into the darkness, Wyatt came back out into the light. There was a soft titter of laughter as he appeared. If he had looked strange before, he now looked ridiculous. He was carrying one of those long, black, flutes that Indian “snake charmers” use that looks like it is pregnant. At least that’s what goes through my mind when I see the huge bulge at the mouthpiece end of it. I think someone told me once that they are called a Punji or something like that. I might not have recognized it, but he was wearing a slightly over-sized turban on his head with a large fake jewel mounted in it right above his forehead. Thankfully, there were no Sikhs in the audience or he might now have a kirpan dagger decorating the center of his chest for such a flagrant disrespect of Punjab traditions.

He stood grinning at the crowd while Bill and Ted carried a large, almost flat wicker basket out onto the stage. It was obviously heavy because it made a solid thump as they placed it none-too-gently on the floor. The stereotypical thin, wailing notes associated with snake charming began and Wyatt, pretending to play the Punji, began waving it near the top of the basket.

In response a dark green hand emerged from the top of the basket and waved in time with the music, occasionally pointing fingertips-first at the flute as if it were a snake. The music got slightly louder and a second hand emerged from the basket. The two green arms danced in time to the music, often intertwining in ways that made me wonder if the person to whom they belonged actually had any bones in their body.