Chapter 13. 'Miss Butt-Slut.'
Angel's Wand Raid. Blen meets the President. Typhoon Cimaron. Bombs? Stag Night Party. Miss Butt-Slut and the Masters of Uranus.
In mid-evening, there was an alarm. Near the top of Fields Ave, there had been a raid. Angel's Wand was sealed off by police, and no one was allowed to enter or leave. Mama quickly enforced strict adherence to the guidelines. Customers finished their drinks and walked up the street to watch, as did Daddy Don. Mama hurried to the back to check all paperwork was in order and hide, in a specially prepared hiding place, any unsecured documents which might prove embarrassing - like Blen's contract - and cash money. Cash rarely survived a police search.
The remainder of the evening passed in tension. No one believed there would be a second raid, but if the man next to you is struck by lightning, the fear lasts as long as you hear thunder.
On Friday, the details had become clear, and Mama and Daddy endlessly mulled over the implications. Daddy had received an account, literally from the horse's mouth: the executive vice president of the Tourism Association of Angeles City (TAAC), Humphrey. He had attended during the raid, and been himself arrested and abused by NBI officers. Humphrey was the proprietor of small pension house with a bar/restaurant and small staff of five or six GROs. He was actively involved in the bar proprietor's association, and was well connected.
Having heard of the raid, his wife had driven him to Angel's Wand, where NBI personnel were still present. On speaking to the officer in charge, he found that the officer had not heard of TAAC, and suspected that he, Humphrey, was a wanted person. The officer explained that the raid was a rescue mission to recover a girl listed as a minor but working at Angel's Wand. The girl was not on the premises, but the officer had ordered three other girls to be 'rescued' as minors; girls about whom he had no information, and whose paperwork was in order. These three girls, together with Mama-san and two supervisors, who were arrested for human trafficking, had been taken to the NBI office.
When told that Humphrey wished to update the president of TAAC, and who that president was, the officer lost control and became abusive. He ordered his officers to arrest Humphrey for obstructing the investigation and take him to NBI headquarters. On the way to the headquarters, sited near the airport, there was a cat and mouse game with Humphrey's cell phone. When he first tried to use it, the officer in charge, who continued to fulminate, smacked him in the face and confiscated it. Sometimes it was confiscated, and sometimes given back. At one point, he was given it and told to call the president of TAAC and bring him to NBI headquarters. Humphrey got no reply, so he called a government Secretary, who was an advisor to President Arroyo. This gentleman took particulars and said he would see what he could do. When told who had been called, the officer defamed this Secretary, and again confiscated the cell phone. So it was that Humphrey came to be locked up at midnight.
Having been booked in and fingerprinted, he was locked in a cell. Just as he settled to sleep, his door was opened, and he was let out into the holding area, where the three Mama-sans and three 'rescued' girls also waited. The officer in charge had returned to Angel's Wand. Humphrey was told that the NBI required assistance with one of the three Mama-sans, who would not cooperate. If he could persuade her to cooperate, he would be released. Humphrey spoke with the Mama-sans, and was able to determine that the girl in question did not work in the bar, but she was known to one of the Mama-sans, and that a friend of the girl, who had been working that night, might know her whereabouts.
A second team of officers returned to the bar, but the friend had left.
In the morning, Humphrey was released, and his cell phone returned. It transpired that the Secretary had ordered his release the previous evening, and was upset that he had been disobeyed. The Secretary, the President of TAAC and the TAAC lawyer travelled up from Manila that day, and the NBI Director in Angeles was summoned to see them at the Holiday Inn. He was very apologetic about the slapping incident, and the disrespectful references to the Secretary and TAAC President. He undertook to take administrative action against the responsible officers.
Humphrey had not been asked for a bribe, but before the call came through to release him there had already been suggestions that when charges were laid, the US embassy would be informed, and he would lose his retirement pay. It was fiction, but it was the standard prelude to soliciting a bribe. Humphrey's ordeal had been relatively brief; he was well connected; he had pull. Most foreigners did not, and once fallen into the clutches of the NBI, police or Immigration it was difficult to escape.
As of Friday evening, the three Mama-sans remained locked up. They had been charged with trafficking in relation to the three 'rescued' girls, and trafficking was a non-bailable offence. That evening, only one of the girls turned up for work, and she had to be taken to hospital for treatment. Apparently, the girls were all adults, and the NBI officers had then beaten them to compel them to swear affidavits saying that they were engaged in prostitution. This girl was willing to retract her affidavit, but the other two girls were in fear of the NBI, and had fled Angeles.
"If there is a raid, do not make any affidavit," Mama warned the girls, "You must wait our lawyer and he will speak with you."
"But, what if they beat us like they do with the Angel's Wand girls?" asked one.
"Do not make an affidavit. Ask for our lawyer. If they think you are ignorant provincial girls, they will beat you. If you say you have a lawyer they will leave you alone. Say you will wait the lawyer, and then you make the affidavit. They do not want you to make an affidavit that they beat you."
The other piece of news that evening was that President Arroyo was to visit Angeles. She would open a prestigious new hotel and casino complex, the Raphael, on the Mimosa estate, a recognition of the hoped for prosperity conferred by the Special Economic Zone status.
"I want to see the President," said Blen. "I will go to the hotel and I will shout, maybe she will hear my voice."
"We can all go," said Amor. "I would like to see the President also. When we go home we can say that we have seen the President."
That night, Nick and Blen lay on his bed, intertwined, and lost in their own thoughts.
"Why can't you be like a normal girl and lose your cherry to a hairbrush? Why did I fall in love with a girl who can choose between a sadistic Nazi, a balloon catheter, and a unicorn?" murmured Nick.
"Because God punish you, because you go in the church to pick up girls," Blen murmured back.
"Do you think, if I promised to put a lot of money in the Charity Box, he would remove his curse?"
"If God is a Filipino he will take your bribe," said Blen, "but I do not think he is a Filipino."
As they assembled in the lady-house to go to see the President, the girls grew quite excited. Desbilla was remote from everywhere. The highest public officer they would ever see was the barangay captain. Now they were close to the heart of the government. They had seen the president on TV, but to see her in real life, to stand close to her, maybe to appear in the same photograph as her, that would be a tale to tell when they went home.
Nick had his camera to record the event, and promised to try to capture them in the same shot with the President. This would be the first time they had visited the Mimosa Leisure Estate to the north west of the airport. There, there were casinos, golf courses, and tech-parks, and all the infrastructure of a tiger economy coiled to take off and transform Angeles City into a modern commercial and technocratic hub. This coiled spring had however remained coiled, and after failed investments, the plan had morphed into marrying high-end rest and recreation structures on Mimosa, to the low-end rest and recreation infrastructure of Balibago. The airport had attracted new flights, but they carried investors who headed for the bars of Balibago rather than the tech-parks.
"What will you say to the President?" asked Girlie.
"I will ask why she just go in Mimosa to open a casino, why she does not go in St Nino to open a clinic, or a barangay well. Why is there a golf course for foreigners but no house for the Filipinos? Who can we ask if she does not keep her promise? She is President. If she cannot make our life better, why is she there? Anyone can steal my money. I do not need a President for that."
"Maybe it is best if we will not go too close," said Girlie.
Travelling by trike and jeepney, they made their way up past Air Force City to the new hotel complex. Security was strict, clearly, a large gathering was discouraged, and, had they not been with Nick, they would have been turned away hundreds of yards from the hotel. They joined a small and orderly throng - many were press photographers - and waited. The President was already inside, and the opening ceremony was taking place out of public view. The clouds drew in, and it grew dark. Another typhoon was heading towards Luzon, and the dark skies, which began to let fall a steady rain, presaged its approach. Soon the crowd stood in puddles.
Suddenly the police and guards bristled, standing alert and looking around. The President was coming out. Nick prepared his camera, and stood back, waving the girls to a good vantage point. Blen spotted a gap in the security, and stepped into it to pose. But, as Nick raised his camera to take the shot, a large hand pushed Blen backwards, sprawling into a puddle.
Nick got his shot. As the president waved toward her, Blen splashed in the mud, unseen and unheard.
The following evening, Typhoon Cimaron, the second super-typhoon in two months, made landfall on northeast Luzon. On Monday, it tracked over the mountainous and more sparsely populated districts to the north, so the destruction and loss of life was less than for Milenyo. Angeles was further from its centre than it had been from Milenyo's, and the winds were less fierce, but the inundations were much the same.
On Tuesday, as the girls assembled in the sala at the beginning of their day, the clouds began to break up, and beams of sunshine penetrated the soft rain shed by the drying atmosphere, sending a rainbow arcing across the sky. The major electrical generation plant had not failed on this occasion, and the brownouts were local and of short duration, typical of the rainy season.
Pots and pans were emptied, puddled water mopped up, and soon the house was restored to its normal comfort. Blen arrived with Nick; it was now their habit to come over in late morning bringing a contribution to breakfast. Since Nick was hoarding every peso, he refrained from any activity involving expense, and this visit to the lady-house was the social highlight of his day. The girls liked him, but he thought it wise always to bring something to share with Blen's housemates, by way of rent, in return for their forbearance. After Blen had exchanged gossip and clothes, and made plans with the others, she and Nick would walk - anywhere and everywhere - taking in the sights, exploring the city. Often, Amor would accompany them.
As they walked up Malabanias Road, there was a loud explosion. People in the street stopped and scanned the horizon for rising smoke, but none appeared.
"That sounded like a bomb," said Nick.
"But there is no Abu Sayyaf here," said Blen.
"There have been many bombs in Mindanao," said Amor.
"I've been reading in the papers that there have been threats to target tourist areas," said Nick, "maybe they've begun."
They scanned the horizon towards Balibago, but there was no telltale puff of smoke dissolving into the sky. The three continued on their walk, looping around, and walking back down Perimeter Road towards Field's Avenue. They passed down the top of Field's at about five, passing Angel's Wand, and as they approached the fork there were police erecting barriers to prevent traffic from entering. Passing down towards MacArthur Highway there was general confusion and consternation.
Daddy Don stood outside Talent Spot. "I have no fucking idea what's happening. No one's been told about this. We don't know why, we don't know for how long," he blustered.
"Maybe it was that bomb," said Blen.
"People are talking about a fucking bomb; I haven't heard a bomb, or seen any sign of a fucking bomb."
"We hear the bomb when we are up on Malabanias. It was maybe two hours ago."
"What did you see?" asked Daddy.
"Nothing. We hear the bang."
"It may have been a car backfiring then. Don't go talking about a fucking bomb you haven't fucking seen, you'll scare all the fucking customers away. If a customer asks, just say it's been on the cards for a long time, a walking area for tourists."
Nick and Amor continued on to the bottom of Fields, and then the lady-house. An hour later they walked back up to MacArthur, where Nick turned left to his hotel, and the gaggle of girls crossed and headed for Talent Spot.
By the time they started work, the rumour mill had picked up, exaggerated, and was circulating the most lurid explanations. Apparently, the closure of the entertainment area to traffic had been ordered from Manila that afternoon. The mayor had formulated an emergency plan with the Angeles police and some TAAC members, who had been summoned on short notice. Now, police of the Regional Mobile Group were arriving to provide a heavily armed guard to man the barriers and scrutinise the pedestrians passing through.
No official would confirm or deny it, so the assumption was that there was hard evidence of an intended bomb attack against the tourist district of Balibago. Customers found this explanation more consistent with today's events than it being a sudden implementation of a long planned pedestrianisation project. For three days, the customers stayed away, preferring to take their chances up Perimeter Road where normality prevailed. It was the worse period Daddy had ever experienced, and he made serious plans to lay off girls and run Talent Spot as a shoestring operation until the future became clear. But, by Friday night, the explosion had been explained; an illegal firecracker factory had exploded, injuring six but killing none, a common enough event in the Philippines. Once the traffic had been reorganised, and the barriers given a more permanent form that did not smack of panic, the security measures gave a feeling of reassurance, and the customers were glad to return to their old haunts.
Although, at the weekend, Talent Spot returned to its normal level of low season business, there were many businesses that were more dependent on customers having transport, and because no provision had been made for local parking, they continued to suffer. Talent Spot had traditionally been reached on foot by bar hoppers, so the effect was minimal.
Two clouds now hung over the entertainment district; the belief that terrorists had chosen Balibago as a target, with the disruption to trade that that entailed, and the continued detention of the three Mama-sans from Angel's Wand. Feelings ran high in the hospitality trade on account of both issues. The bar managers were dead against any measures which further depressed trade, and the Mama-san's were outraged that they could be targeted for extortion by the NBI, beating their girls to fabricate affidavits when they were found completely in compliance with the guidelines. Although both groups preferred to work discretely through back channels, on this occasion, both felt it necessary to act openly, through the civic processes.
Halloween provided a lift in the mood on Field's Avenue. Every bar had a Halloween party, and was decked out in pumpkins, witches paraphernalia and ghostly balloons. Halloween had a great appeal for customers and the girls. It was a national festival, being a religious event also, and the imagery and costumes drew the customers out in droves to enjoy the gala event.
Blen and Amor were dressed as little devils, and assigned to dance centre stage.
Since the guidelines were still being strictly followed, their costumes were prepared with great care to ensure that, without actually displaying nipples or pussy, as little of their bodies as possible was covered. With horns worn on their heads, in one hand they carried a triton, and in the other, the arrowhead end of a tail attached to the back of their thongs. Short capes hung from their shoulders, tiny flame shaped pieces of fabric covered their nipples and their thongs plunged to the base of their smoothly shaven pudendas, stopping just short of their vaginas. All the costume was in red, and they wore matching red boots.
Mama felt that this was as much visual interest as she could provide without falling foul of the guidelines. She instructed Amor and Blen to dance all their set, without sitting out for ladies drinks or early release bar-fines; in return they would get an extra ladies share. Two girls from Set B were revealingly clad as witches and given similar instructions.
It was a long evening, but profitable for Talent Spot. The customers came out in numbers, and were in a festive mood; ladies drinks flowed, and some girls were bar-fined. Blen and Amor's costumes proved very popular, and between sets, they would pose with customers who wanted a photograph of themselves with the girls for their holiday scrapbooks.
A couple of nights later, Daddy scored another coup. A party of twelve rowdy young men in their early thirties came in. Daddy went over to glad-hand them, and found they had come from Canada for a stag party. One of their number was getting married, and they chose Angeles as the ideal venue for this event. The organiser confided that he was a little disappointed because Angeles was not like he remembered it from his previous visit a few years before and he had built up the guys' expectations, only for things to fall a little flat.
Daddy had a word with Mama to see if there was something they could do. He offered this deal: if the guys partied in Talent Spot until closing time he would lock everyone in, then they could have a no holds barred party, and they could all take back one of his girls for the usual bar-fine. After a talk among themselves they agreed, and proved to be an open-handed bunch, there to celebrate and make the ladies drinks flow.
At two-am the signage was taken in, the door girls withdrawn and, with 'Closed' marked across it, the front door was shut and locked from within. From outside, Talent Spot appeared closed, and the music was masked by the music from the late bars.
Inside, Daddy took the microphone to wish the prospective groom well, and declare his stag party open. Mama moved among the girls, instructing them to go topless. Some took off their tops, some just lifted their breasts out of their cups.
Blen, back in her role as shooters girl, stripped off her top.
As she approached, the first table to invite body shots' Daddy spoke to her. "The waitress'll fetch a couple more bottles and glasses. Tell them it's body shots on Daddy Don. Get some girls lined up; some of theses guys are newbies, so show them how to do a body shot."
Blen enlisted Amor to help, and with difficulty got the attention of the first partying group. "This game is called body shot," she called, "I will show you how to do it." She poured a tequila shot and gave it to Amor, then took the lemon slice and juiced her own nipples. "Now you watch with Amor."
Amor salted the upturned surface of her left fist, and with her right hand slammed the shot glass on the table, and shot-gunned it, immediately licking the salt off her fist and fastening her mouth onto Blen's nipple, first her left then her right, slowly and sensuously sucking away the lemon juice. As they moved to the next group for a second demonstration, the waitresses were already placing glasses on the table and pouring shots as girls queued excitedly.
The body shots proved immensely popular, twenty minutes later six tequila bottles were empty and every girl in the bar had received a body shot. This rapid intake of alcohol by a party who were already inebriated led to greater excess.
Mama told Blen and Amor to change into their twin costumes and do their headline dancing. When they arrived on stage, some girls were already naked. As Blen wriggled her gusset into her vulva, to expose the crinkly brown margins of her inner lips, one of the partygoers leaned towards her, tongue hanging out.
"Eat.. Eat.. Eat," his friends began to chant.
Blen teased him, moving near, then away; then she removed her thong and moved towards him and, with one knee propped against the stage bar and the other foot placed on top of it, she pulled his face into her crotch. As he lapped away at her pussy, to the delight of the audience she feigned ecstasy. A number of his friends came over and queued; other girls hurried up to the edge of the stage, and offered themselves. Soon twelve heads were bobbing on twelve crotches.
After this, the atmosphere grew licentious. The guys groped and fingered the girls, and the girls flaunted themselves, some pulling out the guys' penises to play with, some licking them or briefly sucking on them teasingly. As they sat there with their penises poking up, girls offered to sit on their laps for only 100 pesos. Money changed hands, and soft bums slipped onto eager laps, enveloping the twitching penises in their warm wet vaginas. To titillate, but not stimulate to ejaculation, the girls sat absolutely still, teasingly clenching and unclenching their vaginal muscles.
One of the guys called for a sex show. His companions seized the prospective groom and carried him to the stage; a chair was passed up and he was seated in it, not far from unconscious, still aware and blissful, but unable to resist. Marivic took up the baton, and danced around him, garment by garment removing his clothes. With the assistance of a couple of other girls, she removed his shorts and briefs, and he sat there, bashful and naked, with his penis pointing at the ceiling.
Marivic continued to dance around him, stroking and teasing, touching his penis and moving away. Finally, she knelt before him and took him into her mouth, gripping him firmly at the base of the penis. Before he approached orgasm, she tightened her grip to suppress ejaculation, then resumed her dance. Stepping across his knees, she sat facing him on his lap, sliding her vagina over his penis, then raised and lowered her hips, fast enough to promise, but not fast enough to fulfil. Leaving him inflamed, she resumed dancing flirtatiously around him for a while before straddling his lap one more time, now facing the front, again sheathing his tumescence with her velvet vagina. She moved slowly up and down, rubbing her clitoris delicately with her forefinger, panting and pouting at her audience. This was her finale; she faked orgasm, and slumped forward onto the stage, leaving her victim sitting priapic behind her. Her performance was received with a cacophony of cheers and calls for more from the girls as well as the guys.
Others then proffered themselves or were pushed forward, and several girls lined up to imitate Marivic's dance.
"Do not let them come," Marivic quietly advised her colleagues, "if they come they will not bar-fine."
By 6am in the morning the guys were burnt out, but frustrated and unfulfilled. Fifteen girls were taken out by the lads; one was not enough, for some of them. Blen left to join Nick, and Girlie and Amor went with their bar-fines to their hotels.
After the excesses of the stag party, the weekend appeared tame. On Saturday night, Mama reminded Blen that the Masters of Uranus met the following day and arranged to collect her from the lady-house. With Amor, Blen again went through her experience with the Masters, Amor advising her that the best way was to relax and submit. Little would be required of her, except to be pleasured after the fashion of the Masters.
"It is like Mama tell you, it is a game, it is their fantasy, they want you to enjoy."
That night, in Nick's room, Blen said to him, "When I come tomorrow night you can fuck my ass. I will not be a cherry ass no more. Will you enjoy it?"
"Enjoy it, I'll give you 10,000 pesos and fuck your ass right now."
"Why do you like the ass?" asked Blen.
"Because the ass is for recreation," Nick, echoed her own words, "and I'd like to spend some quality time with you. I love to eat your pussy, and I love to have you give me head, but my body craves to fuck you. I want to mount you, and hump you, and empty my balls into you."
"But, in the ass you cannot make babies."
"No, but you can practise in safety, and I want to start practising to make babies with you," said Nick.
"When will we make babies?" asked Blen.
"When we are married."
"Then you must buy my cherry," Blen reminded him.
"I have a plan," Nick assured her, "I still have first-refusal, remember. All I need is cash, for one minute, for the minute when payment is due."
"I hope it is a good plan."
"It's foolproof." Nick spoke confidently.
By midday on Sunday, Blen had been to Mass, returned to the lady-house, and Mama had collected her. As they drew away in the trike Mama sought to reassure her.
"I have organise the Masters for four years. When my husband die, I miss him so much ... and his little preferences. But, the Masters is like the excitement he give to me. My husband treasure me. These guys are the same, they treasure their girls. They are silly, but they are happy, and they are generous. It is therapy for their minds. Their minds are injure somewhere in their life, these practises comfort their injuries and make them happy. You will see, there are girls also who enjoy to comfort the Masters this way."
"I would like to be a nurse, but not to comfort the mind," said Blen.
"I also have to accept my second best, that is the fate of the poor, but do not resent it, accept your opportunities and enjoy it. If you can eat straw and enjoy, you will have more happiness than a rich man that can eat pork, and complain it is not beef."
"I will try," said Blen.
"We do not go to the Old Bore today. We must be careful. We go to a place which is close a long time. The NBI will not raid there," Mama told her.
...The trike arrived at a boarded building that had been a hotel or club in the past. Mama knocked and waited. The door to the darkened interior was opened by a Filipino. A dull light glowed in the corridor opposite. The Filipino pointed, and Mama and Blen followed the corridor, emerging into a large bright room. Tables and seating were being erected, and other girls, mostly older than those who worked in the bars, waited. Blen recognised some of them as having accompanied Amor back to Talent Spot..
William was organising the preparations and welcomed Mama and Blen. "So you're our special lady tonight. I'll see you enjoy our ceremony as much as we do ... and maybe you'll come back again and be one of our regular girls."
"OK," said Blen, still nervous, though a little emboldened by the sight of the other girls, who appeared happy to indulge the Masters.
He indicated a side room, "Mama, get the girls costumed, everything is through there;I have Blen's costume, I'll bring it through shortly."
Mama clapped her hands to summon the girls, and led them through to the side room which contained a hamper and a dressing mirror. Mama opened the hamper and began to distribute costumes to some of the girls. Others had brought their own garments and props.
"This is important, for this enjoyment it is necessary to clean the bowel," Mama told Blen, "You must use this. I will show you how." She produced an anal douche still in its package, and took Blen to the CR, where other girls were already preparing themselves. "This will be yours, it is a gift. You must take it when you go with your 3-hole customers." Mama removed it from the packaging, filled a hand basin with water, immersed the douche, and squeezed to fill and empty it. Having given it a good wash, she emptied and refilled the basin. "Now it is ready to use. Squeeze the bulb and put it under the water, then let go of the bulb, it will suck in water, keep doing it until it is full - then we will go into the CR." Mama took her into a cubicle. "Take off you jeans and briefs, and stand in front of the CR, and bend forward."
"Now take the douche and press the nozzle into your anus, then squeeze the bulb."
Blen complied. The nozzle of the douche was hard, and was the first object ever to pass into her anus. It passed through easily and slid in a couple of inches. When the bulb was squeezed Blen felt the cold jet tickle against her bowel, and the pleasure of controlled retention as her bowel filled.
"Now, sit down and empty your bowel," Mama continued, "If the water is not clean do it again."
After the pleasure of retention Blen enjoyed the pleasure of release.
Thus prepared, they returned to the changing room.
Blen listened to the chatter. It was of husbands and children and schools, and all the small change of life. The girls were light hearted and unconcerned, and Blen noticed the incongruity as these girls transformed themselves from typical young housewives into exotic sex robots. They made up their faces extravagantly, or wore masks and donned revealing costumes in leather or PVC. Metal studs peppered their attire, or studded the collars around their necks, breasts were compressed or clamped, some bound by ligatures pulled tight, causing them to swell into taut blue and red mottled spheres jutting flamboyantly from their chests. Some clamped their nipples with pegs, or gripped coat hangers onto them by their crocodile clips, some even sported piercings in their breasts and labia.
One engaged Blen in conversation. She had worked in Talent Spot, and had married three years ago. She had two children, and this was her first Masters' meet since giving birth to her second child.
"I rotate with my husband. One month he will come and the next month I will come."
"Are you happy to be married?" asked Blen.
"Of course. My husband is so kind to me. We have a nice house and now two beautiful kids. My life is complete."
Blen paused to picture herself, in a few years time, living with Nick and their children, sharing visits to the Masters.
Eventually William came through.
He handed a grip to Mama, "This is Blen's costume for today, I'll help you with it, I know exactly how I like these things."
"Undress now, Blen," instructed Mama, and Blen disrobed.
The first item William took from the grip was a corset sheathed with vertically overlapping polished chrome plates. It fitted between Blen's hips and ribs, like a metal can. Inside the plates was a conventional cloth corset, which conformed to the shape of Blen's waist. Mama laced it tight, and the chrome plates pulled together. William then attached a hand pump to the end of a protruding nozzle, and pumped. Blen felt bladders expand between the corset and plates, pressing in on her intestines, and out against the plates, fixing them rigid. Next she was given high heeled boots with a shiny metallic finish up to the knees, but with soft extensions that enclosed her thighs and laced up three inches below her crotch.
William then produced a yoke with extensions on either side. He closed and locked it around Blen's neck where it rested on a soft leather collar. Blen's arms were stretched out on either side, and her wrists locked into the cuffs at each end of the yoke. When Blen relaxed her arms, they hung comfortably, with the weight distributed to her shoulders by the soft collar. Then he produced a complicated harness, which he pulled over her head, and buckled under her chin.
William adjusted the component parts. He inserted the ball gag into Blen's mouth, and pulled it tight. The ball was perforated, and Blen could easily breathe through it. He inserted hooks into the corners of her mouth, and fastened them back, pulling her mouth wide. Hooks were inserted into her nostrils, and again adjusted to pull her button nose up and widen her nostrils.
The last items he produced were two clear plastic cones and a test tube shaped tube, with airlines protruding from the apex of each. After a metre, the airlines joined and led to a hand pump. William asked Mama to press one cone over each of Blen's breasts. He placed the tube over Blen's clitoris, and pumped. This time, air was sucked from the cones and tube, to form vacuums. Blen felt her breasts being sucked forward and expanding, and her clitoris creep from under its hood. Mama could see Blen's nipples darken, expand and lengthen. In the tube she saw Blen's clitoral hood rise, and peel back, to reveal her clitoris, which enlarged and strained outward.
When William completed his final adjustments, Mama faced her toward the mirror.
Blen looked curiously at her reflection; her face was distorted into a piggish grimace, with the ball gag placed like the traditional apple, in the mouth of the pig. Her outstretched arms carried her shoulders high, which in turn raised her breasts, which bulged softly beyond the flesh sucked hard against the clear plastic. Her clitoris was extruded into the tube, the curvature magnifying it, so it seemed to be one inch thick. This clear plastic, penis-like appendage, was joined by one of three tubular loops, which arced back to her waist, where William had secured the union. From there, a single tube led to a holster on the left of the chrome-plated corset, where the hand pump was placed.
William took the pump from its holster, and squeezed it a few times. "If the vacuum starts to fail, just pump a few times like that, until it is restored," he told Mama.
Blen could not speak, but she could see the other girls gathered around, admiring her. They had costumes which rendered them strange and alien, perhaps their alter egos, but none was as strange and compelling to the eye as hers.
William was pleased, "I think that works well. You look sensational Blen."
Now that Mama knew the set up, Blen was released from her costume until nearer the time for her appearance.
While waiting for their turns, the girls chatted. Most of the girls had worked in the bars, and were now married or had boyfriends. Most had children. One or two had worked inJapan. All enjoyed the Masters meets. They looked forward to them as social outings, because they knew the Masters, and it was as much a club for the girls as the Masters. They also liked the money. It was rare to be able to pick up a couple of thousand pesos for a couple of hours work. The girls, who had learned specialist skills, recommended this to Blen. There was always a demand for pussy shows, and one who had lived inEuropesaid she could have worked seven days a week. In two years, she had bought two houses and a farm in the province, and amassed a fortune in her bank account. She was caught with an expired visa, and sent home. But, she never needed to work again, and now lived with her boyfriend in Angeles, and only did the Masters' meet for her own amusement.
"Why is it you make up like that, and wear the costumes?" asked Blen.
"That is because we are different people. When we come here, we are different people, we transform, the costume help us transform our mind. Also we have different names. It set us free. Here we do not need permission, we do what we like, and no one to criticise. I have my makeup, my costume, my charms and my name, then I am a different person, and when it is finish, I change back."
"Do you like my costume?" asked Blen.
"Yes, it is beautiful," the girl agreed.
"But my face is ugly, I look alien."
"It is not beauty of the body; it is beauty of the soul. Here there is no, more beautiful, or less beautiful, here we are all beautiful, the same beauty. That is why we transform. It is transformation of the mind."
"Do you have a new name for your new person?" asked another.
"I have not thought," said Blen.
"If you have a name, it will help you, then you can be that person."
When Mama came to prepare her, she told her, "Today, I am Princess Butt-Slut."
"That is a good name. Today will go well," said Mama.
Mama tightened Blen's corset, and then, as Blen held the cones over her breasts, applied the tube, and pumped the hand pump until Blen's organs were sucked securely into the evacuated vessels. She fastened the yoke around Blen's neck, and secured her hands in the cuffs. Finally, she fastened the harness over her head, inserted the ball gag in her mouth, and hooks into mouth and nostrils, pulling her face out of shape.
"Just walk slowly where I lead you, and do exactly what you are told. I will lead you around the room for the Masters to examine, then deliver you to William, who will prepare your to lose your ass cherry."
She clipped a chain to the yoke, and led her towards the doorway. Blen moved very slowly, step by deliberate step. Her heels were high, and she raised her head and straightened her back to move her weight into balance over the heels. She feared falling; with her arms yoked, she could not break her fall. Her anxiety showed in her eyes, and her breathing through the ball gag and and distorted nostrils was laboured.
As they entered, Blen could see tables arranged in a crescent on the long axis of the room, and behind the tables sat twenty or so, identically white robed and hooded men. Each man wore a different mask, some elaborate and grotesque, some blank with eyeholes, some simply of reflective material, like reflective sunglasses. Her appearance was greeted by appreciative applause. Blen's nervously darting eyes, heaving chest, and hesitant steps, were the perfect complement to her costume, which epitomised enslavement and exploitation. Mama led her to the centre of their view.
"This is Princess Butt-Slut - your cherry ass girl."
She then rotated Blen slowly, for all to see. Next, she was led to one end of the crescent and presented to the table, then led around to where the Masters sat. They examined her closely, stroking and slapping her buttocks, running their fingers over her distorted face, or pumping the hand pump. In this manner, she passed from table to table down the crescent. While she was at the last table, the other Masters moved to make preparations.
Two tables were moved into the centre of the room, and chairs were arranged in front of it. Cushions were piled on one table, and a variety of devices and tubes were arranged on the other.
As the Masters sat themselves before the tables, Mama led Blen to stand in front of the table on which lay the cushions. "Now, Master William will train you," Mama whispered, and unclipped the lead, then moved away.
Blen looked around at the beings ranged before her. As with the girls, they did not have gradations of age or beauty. The robes and hoods were simple and white, only the masks gave them separate identity. The masks did not change expression, so, as they examined Blen, she could read only dispassionate curiosity, whatever the lustful or greedy eyes that lurked behind the masks. She felt like one alien specimen, captured, and prepared for examination by other aliens.
William took charge of her. He was a large and charismatic man with a deep, relaxing voice, and strong hands. Even in her high-heeled boots, Blen did not reach to his shoulders, and standing next to him she felt small and vulnerable.
"Today we have Princess Butt-slut," said William, "She has consented to sacrifice her butt cherry to us. Let the ceremony begin." He rotated Blen to face the table, and arranged cushions before her. He then pushed her to the edge and bent her forward, laying her torso on the cushions which he adjusted so her plastic encased breasts fitted into the spaces between them. They comfortably supported her head, arms and ribcage. Her naked buttocks faced the Masters, and Blen closed her eyes and readied herself to endure the unseen impertinances to be perpetrated against the nether end of her body.
She felt her right ankle being cuffed, then her legs forced apart, and her left ankle also secured. They were now held apart, she guessed, like her hands, by a spar. . Almost immediately, hands grasped her buttocks and she felt her ass cheeks stretched apart to expose her anus to her public.
How neat, how tight, is that?" intoned William, "But, how can we make this ass even prettier and more inviting? I think some colour." He proceeded to deliverd a well-aimed slap to her buttocks and the loud crack of iron hand on soft flesh echoed through the room to the appreciative murmur of his audience. Blen started at the noise, but was surprised that, although the slap produced a loud report, she felt no pain or discomfort, merely a tingle in her buttocks, which warmed pleasantly. For several minutes William continued to spank her with great deliberation, each blow arriving at irregular intervals so she could not anticipate its impact. After twenty or thirty slaps she could feel the warm glow from her red, inflamed flesh. He then parted her buttocks again, and this time sought out her anus and began to massage it with his finger. He pressed until she clenched her reddening buttocks
"See how little our Princes blushes," said William, "We deserve more. We confer on her the most shameful improprities and she blushes only a little. This girl deserves the whip." Blen tensed at the sound of the tails swishing menacingly through the air, but when they cut her flesh, they were light and caressing, and served only to enliven the nerve endings in her skin. He worked from the top of her thighs to the pit of her spine, covering every inch of flesh.
"Now you do us justice. There's no rosier apple in city market," said William, "but still we need a pattern."
Blen could hear the vicious sound of a cane whipped back and forth. As it grew closer she felt the disturbance of the air against her rump. There was a pause, then a violent "Whuuump." Blen grunted, jerked and tried to pull away. Her back arched and her torso jerked upward a foot then fell back., but her struggle served only to rock the table a little. The initial stroke passed within a millimetre of her flesh. This was repeated two, three, four times, Blen reacting less on each occasion, beginning to think this was only theatre. On the fifth stroke William struck home. Blen convulsed, throwing her torso violently upward causing the table to bounce, her cry stifled by the gag. There was a pause before the next cut. Again Blen convulsed. Now the strokes arrived at regular intervals of about five seconds. Blen could count the interval and anticipate the blow, convulsing before cane met flesh, and again after, the table tapping out a double beat against the floor. These strokes were firm and stingy, numbing the flesh, but causing only psychological pain and heightening her senses as if cold water had been poured over her. The streaks of numbness gave way to streaks of warmth, and Blen became aware that welts were being systematically raised. She was also aware from the appreciative murmurs how much her writhing entertained the Masters. Swish - grunt - tap - thwack - grunt - tap. Before and after each stroke Blen screamed through the ball gag, bucked, clenched and wriggled her buttocks, but her pinioned limbs prevented her from avoiding the strokes.
William continued to deliver strokes for what seemed to Blen an interminable time. The effort of straining against her fetters exhausted her, her convulsions became weaker and a thick layer of perspiration glistened on her body. When finally she lay still, to weak even to flinch, William ceased.
"Now, that our Princess's ass looks beautiful in its new makeup, I shall open her eye," he announced.
Blen felt cool and gelatinous lotion extruded onto her arse, and William's finger massage it around her rose. As he circled, the pressure of his finger increased, and slowly it began to sink into her anus, which parted, then clung to his fingertip. Working it back and forth, he applied more lubricant, and it edged its way through her sphincter until, emerging at the other side, the passage ahead being clear, his finger slid right in. She felt her anal sphincter relax to adjust to this intrusion. William then started with a second finger and worked his way in. Again, Blen's sphincter adjusted to comfortably accommodate William's fingers. William moved his fingers slowly, allowing her sphincter time to accommodate painlessly, circling, pulling and pushing.
Blen focused on controlling her sphincter. As she learned that the intrusions were friendly and not painful, she willed her sphincter to relax. Before an insertion, William would ease her buttock cheeks apart to telegraph his intent. When he introduced anal beads, she relaxed her sphincter as each bead passed in and out, allowing it to close up as the bead passed. The objects grew larger and larger. An anal plug passed in with difficulty, but passed out more easily. Blen's anus grew sensitised, and as she focused, she strained against the objects willing her sphincter to relax, and as they pressed through, enjoyed the strange new tinglings that radiated to parts of her body never previously stimulated.
Finally, William inserted a well-lubricated rubbery object, which lodged against Blen's anus, held by an external collar. She then heard the hissing of compressed air, as William pumped. The object began to grow. Blen relaxed. William continued to pump. The object continued to swell, and prise open her anus. Blen felt it continue to fill and enlarge, until it fully occupied her rectum. Try as she might, she could relax her sphincter no more, and it would stretch no further; she anxiously twitched her hips, and William stopped.
"We are ready. The Princess is prepared," he said.
For what seemed minutes, he left Blen to control her sphincter at its limits, seeking to relax it, resisting the reflexive impulse to spit it out until she lay still having discovered the pleasure of controlled retention. He then pressed the release button, and the object deflated, allowing him to pull it, effortlessly, from her anus.
"I can now show you the Princess's eye, in full make up."
Blen's felt her cheeks pulled apart and her sphincter push and relax reflexively in response. Without her needing to will it, her anus opened. The Masters gazed approvingly as her moist, plum coloured eye opened at the centre of her red, vividly welted, ass. Blen felt cool air on her rectum, and a thrilling frisson raised the hair on her neck as butterflies rose as a cloud in her stomach.
"Master Thor, you have been elected, come forward and consummate the ceremony," said William.
"Blen heard shifting of seats and feet, and then footsteps approached her up-tilted rear. Lubricant was poured on her anus, and worked in by expert fingers. She felt the tip of a warm fleshen rod nestle against her, and appreciated how much more natural it felt than the hard cool objects that had previously invaded her, bringing its own heat, and its own pulse. Her rectum readily accepted and enclosed it, and it began to move rhythmically in the rising crescendo typical of coitus. The faster he moved, rocking her against the table, the more intense the stimulation of the nerves in her anus, and the further these strange new tingles radiated into her bowels. The table rocked as Master Thor's groin bounced off her bottom. Captivated by the motion and rhythm Blen lost herself in these new, strange, yet pleasurable sensations.
The rocking table began to hop backwards as Master Thor's groin impacted increasingly forcefully on her. He jerked his hips several times, clutching the table to prevent Blen being pushed clear of his penis and she felt him spasm in her rectum, then he relaxed and withdrew. The Masters applauded and cheered, and congratulated Master Thor, and for the moment, Blen seemed to be forgotten. She lay turning over events in her mind, with her pouting anus dribbling semen, powerless to move, experiencing mixed feelings of triumph and relief, like a student after a final exam,
After a few minutes, attention again turned to her.
"And, now, Princess Butt-Slut, we award you, this emblem of your new status. Wear this tail with pride," intoned William.
Blen felt a plug press into, and lodge in her anus, and the brush of strands against her thighs. She realised she had been awarded a tail, as Amor had been.
Then the cuff was removed from her left ankle, and she was raised from the table, again back in the charge of Mama, who clipped the chain back on her collar.
"The Masters wish to see your face when they enjoy you. It is unusual," said Mama, "We will arrange you specially, today."
Mama led Blen, teetering, into the CR. Several girls with cushions accompanied her. Blen was taken into a cubicle, and cushions placed on the closed seat. Her corset was deflated and loosened to allow her waist to bend, then she was seated, and tipped backwards, cushions being inserted to support her. The spacer, which had been attached to her legs, was passed behind the downpipe above her, and her ankles again secured in the cuffs,leaving her legs now doubled back over her body. Mama arranged the spacer, and tied it to the down pipe. She then adjusted Blen's costume, cinching the corset in its new position, and pumping to restore the fading vacuum. She ensured that the vessels enclosing Blen's breasts and clitoris fitted well and were symmetrically arranged, then tidied the air lines and secured them in place. When she felt Blen was presented in an aesthetic tableaux, she stood back to admire her work.
Blen's spread legs were secured, spaced apart, above her head. Her grotesque face appeared between her knees, and before her face, her bluing breast stretched into the evacuated cones. Either side of her knees, her yoked arms stretched out. In the foreground, the test tube containing her bloated and magnified clitoris stood erect like a flag above her vulva. Beneath her vulva, a crimson tail hung down from the butt plug lodged in the centre of her bright red, blue and purple welted cheeks. Satisfied that this scene would meet the approval of the Masters, Mama stepped forward and eased the plug from Blen's anus and watched it gape eagerly. Satisfied, she replaced it.
"There is one more thing," said Mama.
She took a panty liner, tore off a length, and applied it over Blen's vulva. With a red marker pen, she then drew a 'No Entry' sign on it. "I do not want an accident. Now you are ready. Princess Butt-Slut, you will make a lot of money today."
Confined and unable to move, with no sensory diversion, Blen could only close her eyes and drift off into a shallow slumber that was periodically interrupted as her butt plug was removed.
Over the next couple of hours, one by one, sixteen of the Masters stood before Blen, threw a 1000p note on the floor, lubricated their penis, bent to uncork her anus and impaled themselves in her welcoming bowel. Finally Mama came to announce the end of the event. She removed her butt plug and Blen clenched her buttocks extruding a foaming slurry of semen that ran down onto the toilet cover and overflowed onto the floor. Once her costume was removed, she returned to the changing room , no longer a cherry-ass, but nursing her sore anus which she planned to put to profitable use.
Sep 2, 2018 in anal