The Female Member
Being used by the female members, in front of the men, was an especially devastating experience.
The woman was utterly ruthless, and devilishly clever in her manipulations, bringing Chloe to a state of desperate, unfulfilled arousal time after time, denying her release.
In the end, Chloe heard herself agreeing to spend her next ‘free’ weekend at the woman’s apartment in Paris, where she was assured she would be thoroughly used.
The woman handed her over to the men then; insisting that three of them should use her at once. It was her first orgasm from multiple penetration, which she had always hated, and its intensity overpowered her, rendered her a babbling, crying, quivering idiot for several minutes, as the most enduring of the men continued thrusting violently into her rear.
When her wits had recovered a little, a come-splattered mess, she wept softly, but without bitterness, knowing that she had been taken another turn down the spiral, another barrier broken, and that she would now often be used that way, multiply penetrated, wrenched by different urgent rhythms, and that, if permitted, she would orgasm helplessly under such assaults.
The next morning, in brilliant sunshine, Anne-Marie had Chloe naked, kneeling on the low table, thighs spread, arms locked behind her back, recount her experience of the evening for the video camera and a few lazily entertained members; requiring, as usual, revelation of her most intimate feelings.
Shaking, blinking back tears, she did her best to smile as she laid bare her new vulnerability. These videos were made available on the Castle’s dark-net site for the benefit of members (for more on this hard-to-access website, look here).
Two recruits
They hadn’t known each other well — beforehand. But over the last three tumultuous days each has had no option but to lay bare her own deep, inner character.
For the ‘sex weekend’ that their boyfriends had convinced them to attend was so much more than that, and their status as the ‘new flesh’ had meant that they received the intense focus of the senior members of the group — older men mostly, but some women too.
Oh, it had been friendly enough, at first; soft, gently probing conversations over genteel coffee and cakes on the first afternoon — flattery, compliments, encouragement, offers of connections that might help their careers (dark-haired Rose is in fashion, Uma is an aspiring actress).
But as the evening wore on, the level of depravity, the lack of choice offered the two girls, became more and more evident, until in the end each had resisted in one way or another beyond the tolerance of those senior members, and thus provoked their calm suggestion to several of the younger men that the girls be ‘encouraged to comply more willingly’. The ‘encouragement’ turned out to consist of a terrifying, thrashing, squealing session with the electrical prod in front of an interested audience, for; ‘disobedience’, and; ‘lack of pretty eagerness to serve’.
The second day, after another soft and gentle start — the two girls nervous and wary now — had quickly gathered pace, and been if anything more shocking and aggressive. That night, in their shared attic room, locked in, naked, sore, they had vowed to go to the police, expose their boyfriends, this cruel club — and meant it.
But on the third day, in the afternoon, had come another coffee and cakes session — only this time the girls were nude, kneeling on low tables, legs apart, hands restrained behind their necks. The conversation now was just as gentle in tone, though more overtly psychological, and as it turned out, with a core of cold steel.
Each girl’s response to the outrages of the last two nights had been discussed in detail — details which each had thought intensely private and carefully hidden being calmly but insistently exposed, opened up — the deep implications as to each girl’s vulnerabilities and neuroses made clinically clear. Many soft tears had been shed, weak protestations made, nipples had trembled as each in turn quivered with shame and repressed anger.
By the end, each was a tear-stained, swaying, emotional rag, nerves raw, self-image shattered. Not only had their darkest secrets been revealed, but each had been brought to understand just how the other’s response to the cruelties and humiliations of those wild nights had been as helpless and visceral as her own. And each had been gently, lovingly, but insistently brought to several stuttering, moaning, begging orgasms for the entertainment of the group; orgasms which had underlined these cold truths about their wantonness.
The evening that followed had been as sexually shocking as the previous two — if not more so; each girl experienced double, then triple penetrations for the first time, in front of interested, heartless and casually amused strangers. Each was forced to multiple wracking orgasms. Nevertheless the character of the evening was calmer, more measured — and consequently psychologically more powerful, the immense and casual power of the Castle membership being powerfully borne in on the two trembling girls.
It is now mid-day on Monday morning. They are still locked in, still prisoners, each very quiet and shy with the other, despite what they have been made to undergo together. They have just had a visit from Anne-Marie. A car will be ready to take them home in an hour, she says — their boyfriends have already left.
‘Ex-boyfriend’, thought each girl, grimly, having realised that the boys were in reality procurers, probably paid by this Anne-Marie to bring them here.
But there was no anger at Anne-Marie. In fact, neither girl could resist — did not, in her heart, even wish to resist — glowing and blushing prettily at the comments the older woman had for them; for their firm breasts, for their prettiness, for Rose’s lovely softness when ‘that dreadful Robert’ had forced his immensely stiff prick into her tight anus, For Uma’s consent (sobbing, pleading all the while to be let off — but consenting nevertheless) to receive the electric prod at her sex, to held herself open for it — three times.
And now they are alone again, both of them uneasily conscious that they had been waiting, the whole time Anne-Marie had been in the room, for her touch. Wanting it, in fact, in spite of the very intimate and recent knowledge each had of the older woman’s enjoyment of cruel caresses. Each knows that, had Anne-Marie asked, she would have opened herself, gladly, blatantly, offered her body — even her most private parts — to Anne-Marie, invited her touch, however shaming to do this with her new friend looking on, however likely it was that such a touch would inflict suffering and humiliation along with any pleasure.
Each both savoured and feared the new understanding of herself that these feelings brought along with them. Neither could deny to herself the excitement which this inner tension brought with it. The idea of never seeing Anne-Marie again - of never experiencing again the highs of the last 48 hours seemed like nothing other than a potential, dismaying loss. Each had, genuinely, hated and rejected the awful lows against which the highs had to be measured, but somehow, already, even those lows had acquired a strange sort of glamour.
Now, Rose has told Uma that she won’t be leaving, her voice little more than a whisper, lips trembling. That she is going to take up Anne-Marie’s offer of a room here; stay for at least a week. And Uma is saying very little, just brushing Rose’s hair, wondering how it is that she can feel jealous.
Things are quieter, during the week - fewer visitors; Anne-Marie had said, calm and friendly - almost conspiratorial, as if letting them in on some juicy secret; But of course, that allows for greater intensity, so that I can promise that you will not be bored, that you will have your little limits challenged, that you will be thoroughly used indeed. Tears and despair, there will be, too, don’t you worry, along with the ecstacy.
Maybe Anne-Marie can arrange for that creepy older servant to take her to the audition this afternoon, then bring her back afterward? On the other hand, she never really wanted that part, anyway. Casting calls are so stressful.
Pierced
The installation of the heavy ring at the base of her labia — through both sides, just above the join — had utterly destroyed her equilibrium.
Somehow until now, despite everything — the whippings, the rapes, the humiliations, the cruelty, the public triple penetrations — despite all these, the situation had seemed impermanent — a game. A deep, dark game, to be sure, terrifying at times, horrifying at others, often unbearably erotic, but at some level a game which she had believed, in the sheltered recesses of her self-protecting mind, that she would one day be able to stop playing.
All the evidence notwithstanding — her lover’s clear betrayal of her to this gang of cruel whore-masters, the sinister reach of the organisation so far and deep into political and moneyed circles, the truly dreadful things she had seen and heard about; the levels of depravity that could, on a mere whim, be unleashed in this place upon pretty, defenceless girls like her — even knowing all of this, it was now clear that she had never truly accepted that her life as an independent person was over.
Until this. The ring itself wasn’t so different from the ones she had allowed her lover to convince her to have placed in her nipples, not so different from the one they had placed in her clit hood without permission. Less permanent than the tattoos and the brand they had placed on her soft skin at strategic points, that so crudely identified her as an object made available for the sexual gratification of those with power.
Nevertheless, its weight, and that of the chain which hung permanently from it, the way her thighs brushed it, so that it dragged at her sex lips with each step, soft but insistent, this had been the thing which had broken her.
Of course, Anne-Marie had noticed the change in her, and had seen to it that the moment was seized, so that she had been more than usually harshly treated, violently fucked, publicly degraded, all of which she accepted with the prettiest and most helpless willingness to please; after all, what other choices did she have?
She was broken now, and she knew it, and was filled with awe at the sureness and perfection of their power over her, reaching as it did into the deepest recesses of her mind.
Every day the idea that she could have ever had an existence not totally conditioned by the fancies of rapacious, sophisticated sadists grew to seem more fantastical, and every day, having nowhere else to go, she pushed herself deeper into the abyss of extreme sensation, extreme servitude, extreme submission, knowing that she pushed herself down an ever-deeper spiral.
