Fleur V: Blackout

Sunday, 0.41 am

Mistress Ava kept a steady pace as she pulled Fleur from the den of Mistress Fox to her next appointment. Blinded by the contact lenses she received in her eyes, Fleur had no idea where she was or where she went. She was trying to keep up with Ava and hoped that most of the hallways they would pass through were reasonably clean. Before her eyes had been blinded, she had seen earlier in the day how many of the corridors were littered with debris and dirt, from crumbled walls and caved-in ceilings to shattered glass and splintered wood.

She found out quickly enough that those hazards weren’t the only ones on her path, as she repeatedly bumped into broken-down furniture that was left behind when the buildings were abandoned.

Even though the trek to the next room was a workout in itself, Fleur felt that it was like a treat, another calm before an unknown storm that would certainly hit sometime soon. She lost track of the turns they took, but was very aware of the sounds, of lack thereof, as they passed by groups of people and different rooms. She brushed by bare legs and leather boots, got hit with whips, sticks and smelly, half-empty cups of drinks, the most noticeable of which were beer, wine and whiskey.

Fleur had passed Hannah, led by Mistress Effie in the same way as Mistress Ava was leading her, but neither girl had noticed the other due to their blinding contact lenses. The mistresses just greeted each other with a smirk on their faces. Hannah, on her way to be enjoyed by Mistress Fox next, had spent her time since the whipping machine in ‘The Hole’, as RYW dubbed the space Fleur was going to next.

‘The Hole’  was a large square space with high ceilings. It had functioned as an inside courtyard, much like an ancient Roman atrium, before its open top had been closed off several years after the original building’s construction. At least ten meters wide along the outer walls, if featured a circular basin lowered in the floor that has been used as a small pool decades ago, but functioned as a makeshift dance floor tonight. Now the space was sparsely furnished, featuring just three small wooden platforms on the floor, the biggest of which was set up in the middle of the lower pool.

Right next to one of the two the entrances to the space, a DJ booth was set up, which blasted loud rave music. The entrance on the opposite end of the room was accessible to guests of the large fetish party that was held on the grounds as well. Two RYW guards, dressed and acting as night club bouncers, decided who was allowed in. 

When Fleur was pulled inside from the corridor behind the DJ booth, several dozen people were enjoying themselves with various activities in the large room. Some stood, their backs against the wall, sipping a drink and watching others. There was no way that anyone could have an actual conversation here, so most of the activities were aimed at watching and being seen, but there was a high degree of anonymity here: except for a brave or reckless few, all of the people wore some kind of mask to cover their face. Many people just danced their asses off, as if they were at a regular night club, despite the fact that others were openly having all kinds of deviant sex around them.

Mistress Ava pulled Fleur to the pool in the center of the room, where she took off the collar and handed her over to a large, half naked muscular man, who carried Fleur as if she was a tiny doll and put her down on the  wooden platform, where she remained on her side for now, groggy from all the events so far. This place reeked of piss, shit, cum, blood and who knows what else. If Fleur hadn’t been nauseous yet, just being here would have done the trick. Even though she could not see anything, Fleur sensed the busy atmosphere through the loud beats that easily drowned out all the conversations and other noise. While the man who carried her over exchanged some words with Ava, Fleur felt four hands grab her limbs and pull her a little further onto the platform. She was quickly fitted with simple metal cuffs around her ankles that dug into her skin. Then she felt her legs get spread wide and locked into place.

Several people, mostly men wearing nothing but simple black balaclavas and two leather-clad women, gathered around the platform when Mistress Ava started hoisting Fleur up with a simple rope-and-winch system that hung from the tall ceiling above the wooden platform. Fleur flew a little forward after Ava had pulled her rope a couple of times with some firm tugs and she instinctively placed her hands behind the back of her head and her arms alongside her face.

A few pulls of the rope later, Fleur was hanging upside down in the middle of the room, her head about three feet above the floor, which was just out of reach when she stretched her arms and hands all the way down. She swung a little back and forth.

The people who had gathered around formed a wide circle around Fleur, but they did not yet touch her. They let Mistress Ava into the circle when she returned, a short black belt in her hands. She walked up behind Fleur and pulled her arms behind her back, her wrists tightly together, before she started wrapping the belt around Fleur’s wrists, leaving her able to move her arms behind her back, but only a little bit.

When the belt was in place, two assistants lifted a large wooden trunk from the floor onto the platform and placed it a few feet away from Fleur, leaving enough room for people to walk around her lightly swinging body, but  having it close enough within reach.

Mistress Ava unlocked the trunk and flipped open the heavy top lid, revealing a deep chest filled with all kinds of instruments. She picked up a heavy flogger, turned around and handed it to the tallest of men. It was as if this was a well-known ceremonial hand-over, a signal of sorts, because almost immediately several of the other people on stage started flocking around the opened chest while Ava made her way off the stage and back to one of the edges of the room.

Most people in The Hole knew what was expected of them now. If they wanted, they could go up to the stage in the center pond and do whatever they wanted with the fresh meat that had been hoisted up. They could also just watch and jerk off, or play with someone else whilst enjoying the main entertainment, just like they had been doing for the past hours when other girls had been suspended upside down for their entertainment before being locked face-down in the hole that gave this space its name, for an additional hour of anal service.

But that fun was still an hour away for Fleur, who quickly felt the flogger rain down on her ass, arms and back, while multiple hands squeezed her injured tits and a particularly smelly curved cock forced its way into her mouth.

Her head felt heavier by the minute and she didn’t fully register everything that was done to her anymore. She had drifted off in a black void where time stood still and felt like there was an actual barrier between her consciousness and the depraved mayhem that happened around her. It was like the calm in the eye of the storm. Only the sharpest and bluntest of impacts barely penetrated through, like when one of the women had completed installing and ripping off a twenty-point alligator clamp zipper along the full length of Fleur’s torso from the strip of duct tape over her sewn cunt over her vulva, toned abdomen to her bouncing tits all the way to her collar bones.

Cock after cock slammed into the back of her throat in this black void of subspace, where her brain had trouble managing the nerve signals from a cattle prod on her ass, a thin cane against the underside of her abused breasts and streams of hot wax running down from her thighs to her waist, where her cunt had now been feeling like it was fully ablaze for almost an hour.

The repeated floggings were a reprieve for Fleur, like a reset button that woke her up with sharp, targeted stinging attacks that made her suddenly again very aware of where she was and what her purpose was: to show these people once and for all that she was the only sick fuck who could not only last for 24 hours in a place like this, but was actually enjoying it. She welcomed the jolts of pain that shot through her body and rode the rhythm of this room.

Guests in this room patiently awaited their turn, except for a pushy female duo that was denied access repeatedly, while smaller and larger groups of men and women, sometimes individually and sometimes in tandem, enjoyed playing with Fleur. A tall and skinny blonde girl who was completely naked except for her clear platform heels was given the opportunity to sensually make out with Fleur while the rest of the participants nodded in approval and enjoyed the sight. The blonde had very long hair that reached under her buttocks and her skinny but toned body was covered in scars, scabs and body art. Her torso was completely devoid of ink, but littered with very obvious old and more recent marks of depraved pain play. Her small breasts featured massive large gauge stainless steel rings through her long, thin nipples that stretched her flesh down. Both her legs and arms were completely covered in all kinds and styles of tattoos, some smaller, some larger, some depicting iconography, others covering her skin with words in Cyrillic writing. The blonde took her time caressing and using Fleur’s body and making out with her, which was a very nice change of pace. After the girl was done and disappeared into the night again, a new barrage of cocks, mouths, hands and toys enjoyed Fleur’s suspended body for what seemed like an eternity, in a flow that seemed to have a steady pace without any real peaks or valleys. Fleur was whipped continuously, but it seemed like the number of real vicious sadists was low. Most of the men and women here enjoyed a level of pain, whether it was giving or receiving, that Fleur had already found dull and boring six or seven years ago.

When, after the better part of two hours, most of the room’s active participants had had their shot with Fleur, the variety of activities now turned seriously low. She settled into the rhythm of sucking cock in automatic mode while receiving moderate whipping all over her body.

Fleur awaited the next cock at her mouth when there had been a downtime of more than ten seconds since the last bite of the whip, but was caught off guard when it was not a cock, but two gloved fingers that explored her mouth while she felt a rough rope being wrapped around her tits.

“You look delicious,” a female voice purred into Fleur’s ear, loud enough for her to hear clearly through the loud music and partying mass of people.

A second female voice laughed, cackling like a villain, when Fleur felt the rope around her tits being tightened severely. Several seconds later, she felt a strong pull on her tits when a hook and chain with heavy weights were connected to the rope between her bound breasts. Almost immediately after, she felt both her nipples simultaneously being crushed by the strong grip of teeth, before the strong lapping of two wet tongues started.

Fleur couldn’t see it, but what she felt were the mouths of two extravagant dominatrices that could best be described as a cross between Cruella De Vil from the Disney adaptation of The Hundred and One Dalmatians and Anjelica Huston as Morticia Addams from the 1991 movie. Dressing as identical twins in a black and white outfit that extended to their long, frizzy hair and painted finger nails, they were actually not related at all, but rather lesbian college friends who had traveled the narrow paths of deviant bdsm together for almost thirty years. They had been kept at bay by the other participants in the room, until now, and they seemed unfazed, or possibly even attracted, by the small wounds that were already inflicted on Fleur’s magnificent tits, now bound into tight orbs and stretched to the floor by heavy weights that had seriously impacted Fleur’s ability to breathe. Whether it was by request, or because of their natural dominance, or because of their unique and quite grating personalities, wasn’t clear, but when these two claimed Fleur’s body as their toy, the other people on or around the platform backed off and stepped back.

While one of the mistresses enjoyed her free play meat by inserting half a dozen thin needles into Fleur’s areolas and whipping them all the way into the bound flesh with the tip of her riding crop, the other pulled Fleur’s head back and worked a long, flexible dildo with a hand grip at the end straight up into Fleur’s throat. Her movements were forceful and rough, and Fleur was quickly coughing and vomiting, much to the mistress’ delight, shaking uncontrollably in her upside-down suspended position and making it almost impossible for the other woman to continue her needle work. The one with the dildo did not seem to give one fuck about Fleur and rammed the long toy all the way into her stomach, leaving just the handle sticking out between her teeth and making the rest of the thirteen inch length disappear.

Fleur buckled and felt like she was going to choke. Both mistresses stepped back and enjoyed the view, as they had done previously with Hannah and the round before that with a skinny little redhead named Zoë.

They knew exactly how long they could take their time before they needed to take the dildo out of Fleur’s throat and they waited exactly long enough to stretch the torment to unimaginable lengths for Fleur. All the while, they enjoyed their prey’s suspended contorting body as it twitched and suffered in front of them. They shamelessly masturbated themselves at the grotesque sight.

Fleur’s mind went totally blank in a state of total dilemma and paralysis. Instinctively, her body wanted to fight, but it seemed unable to. Maybe it was better to conserve energy and air and resign to the situation? She felt like her head was about to explode and the world around her was spinning out of control, but her headache suddenly faded and she felt like her mind drifted away into nothing.

The dominatrices kept masturbating furiously with their hands down their tight pants. They could focus on nothing else. One of them stood with her legs spread wide and the other had fallen to her knees in the dirt and grime on the small platform, where she watched just inches away from Fleur’s almost purple face as Fleur’s body went limp while she forcefully chased her orgasm until it came and shook her body completely. Her friend followed not much later, moaning and trembling through their most intense climaxes in a while.

They were so consumed with their own depraved lust that they appeared totally exhausted and out of it, gazing at each other with lustful eyes while they forgot about Fleur. Within moments, they were both up on their feet again, in a tight embrace while making out on this very sexually satisfying high.

Meanwhile, no one else was near the small stage, where Fleur’s body now had gone totally still, which alarmed one of the RYW guards at the edge of the room, who rushed towards the stage. He jumped over the edge of the basin and grabbed the handle of the dildo that was still lodged inside Fleur’s throat.

When he forcefully pulled the dildo from her throat, Fleur experienced a white flash in her mind’s eye and felt as though a shot of adrenaline was forced through her body from the tip of her tongue all the way up to her little toes. She gasped for air, vomited again and coughed and wheezed like a wild banshee. It took a bit of time before she regained a sense of feeling in her body and her breathing stabilized somewhat. Simultaneously the headache bounced back into her skull as if a pack of rabid wolves had been unleashed at the edge of a large field and rushed towards their prey on the other side.

The guard who had pulled out the dildo now busied himself with the suspension system that kept Fleur in the air. He slowly lowered her down to the platform that was covered in the filth from a day of sex and torture in this room, until she was on her back, smack in the middle of the vomit, drool, piss, cum and who-knows-what-else, partially her own, right next to the invader that had filled and stretched her throat. The tight rope and weights were removed from her tits, but no one paid attention to the needles embedded in her areolas.

Fleur didn’t get a lot of rest. As she was lowered from the suspension, more people, mostly men, started gathering around the little platform in the lower basin again. And when she was down and the rope and weights were removed, she was quickly pulled on her knees, her dark red face pointed at the filthy floor, a position she was barely able to hold properly with the spreader bar still between her ankles and the belt holding her wrists behind her back.

Everyone in the room knew what was next. They’d had their way with little inexperienced Zoë in the late afternoon. They’d messed with seasoned pain slut Hannah later in the night and now it was Fleur who would experience ‘The Hole’ in all its glory.

Almost all its glory, it should be mentioned. Because when one of the RYW guards pulled up a few filthy loose planks in the floor of the makeshift stage, Fleur could still hear the loud music and the noise of the people close to her, she could smell the filthy odor of sex, sweat, piss, alcohol, tobacco, shit and blood, she could feel the tension in the air, but she could not see what everyone else saw.

She didn’t immediately know what happened when she was suddenly pulled up and the belt was removed from her wrists, but when her hands were forced down, just like her head, and she soon after felt two parts of a metal pillory close around her neck and wrists, she thought she was going to be locked in place.

The holes for her hands and wrists were a little too wide, but regular handcuffs bolted to the other side of the pillory-like construction prevented Fleur from pulling her hands back. Her neck had just a little room between the two planks, now locked together, and there was no way she could pull her head back through, no matter how hard she tried.

She was not locked in a regular pillory, though, which was immediately clear to her. She felt the weight, but didn’t see that it was designed like a metal grate with a pattern of square inch holes from side to side. She had to carry the weight of the locking grates with her own body. This was not a piece of furniture that stood upright on the floor.

Instead, these grates were a perfect fit for the wide gap in the floor of the platform that had just been created in front of Fleur, just as it had been earlier in the day for the girls who went before her. It was because of her blinding contacts that she could not see down the hole in front of her, so it was a total surprise to Fleur when she suddenly heard the unmistakable sound of electric hair clippers close to her ears. She felt the pressure against her scalp and the pull on her long hair and it was immediately clear to her that they were shaving her head.

Fleur had no idea that ‘they’ were Mistress Ava, who had returned to the center of the space to help prepare her piece of meat for the next part of the degradation and abuse in ‘The Hole’.

To the soundtrack of many screams and cheers from the people in attendance, Ava shaved Fleur’s head completely bald, tossing the girl’s strands of blonde hair into the hole in the stage, where it joined the long red locks of Zoë and Hannah’s short mohawk.

Ava took her time, making sure she didn’t miss a patch, and also making sure that she cut the remaining stubbles as short as possible.

Fleur was too far out of it to really react to what was happening. She did register the shaving of her head, but wasn’t particularly disturbed, even though she loved her long blonde locks and took great care of her hair. It was when a sharp pain shot through her scalp on the right side of her head, just above her ear, painful enough to break through her massive headache, that she sprung to attention again.

With Fleur’s hair shaved off, Mistress Ava had created a brand new canvas for her to work with. Using her portable tattoo tools, she was now adding another one of her ‘designs’ to Fleur’s body, making good on the promise to leave Fleur with multiple permanent mementos of this extreme night of masochism and abuse.

She created a crude depiction of a capital letter A, about three inches tall, with something around it that resembled a small circle, much like the international symbol for anarchy. This was her autograph, her marking on Fleur’s skin. To complete her design, or maybe just for some random fun, she added several shapeless blotches of black ink on the back of Fleur’s head and behind her left ear, before she instructed her guards-turned-assistants to force Fleur’s head under the floor of the stage.

The nauseating smell of the foulness under the floor hit Fleur in the back of her throat and through her nose. The grates around her neck and wrists were bolted to the floor of the stage, trapping her hands and head under the floor while her body remained above, on her knees, with her ankles spread wide and her ass pushed up.

“ANAL” was inked in crude capital letters on her left ass cheek, followed by the word “ONLY” on the other side, a clear reminder for everyone in the room to stay away from her duct-taped cunt, which felt to Fleur like it had been on fire for hours now. It was for their own protection. The crowd wasn’t any less enthusiastic for it.

It didn’t take long before the first hard cock rammed into Fleur’s ass. She barely registered it, as she struggled with the extremely nauseating stench of the filth beneath her face. Ripe, acidic vomit-like fumes mixed with alcoholic piss, cum and who-knows-what-else rose from right under her face.

At this time of night, Fleur was the least fortunate of the three girls who had been put in “The Hole” today. The filth that had been presented to Zoë and Hannah had been collected and pooled in a wide plastic box under the stage. And like the girls before her, Fleur was now treated to a rain of filth from above, with half a dozen men and two women either pissing straight onto her freshly shaved head, pouring out their drinks, masturbating and shooting their cum or even shamelessly taking a shit.

This assault continued for the better part of an hour, while Fleur’s ass was pumped deep almost continuously. Small cocks, large cocks, hands, strap-ons... even a baseball bat was used to see how far Fleur could take it inside her colon. There was a woman who even tried to push her whole foot inside. They were surprised and delighted how much this girl could take, but then again, what else could one expect from a seasoned filthy masochist like this. It all made sense at the same time.

All the while, the box filled up more and more and it reached a the point where Fleur’s nose was submerged in the filth and the surface of it touched her lips if she didn’t tilt her head sideways. No-one paid attention to her struggle, though, and before long she was having a hard time keeping her nose and mouth above the fluids, tasting the foul concoction and spitting out the strands of hair and solid pieces of gunk that swam in it, until it all became too much and she had to actually start sucking and swallowing it down to keep being able to breathe.

Right when she thought she wasn’t going to make it out of the hole alive if this kept going, the assault on her ass stopped and she was forcefully pulled up by her shoulders. She spit out whatever was in her mouth and gasped for air while Ava’s assistants held the grate pillory. The filthy fluids ran from her forehead down her face, from her mouth over her chin into her neck and down her chest. All the while, the music kept blasting in the room, drowning out the cheers and jeers of the group of perverts around her.

As quickly as the pillory construction was fitted on Fleur, it was removed again and when it was taken away, together with the spreader bar between her ankles, Ava took the reins once more. It was a little past 3 am and she had to keep a schedule.

Fleur was completely disoriented, dizzy and nauseous, but had no time to compose herself. She was fitted with the tight neck collar again and Mistress Ava yanked her towards the exit behind the DJ booth. Fleur had no choice but to keep up.