SaM’s Place – Chapter 12 of 15 Captive Fuck

Evelyn is invited to join a very exclusive club, but she must first be interviewed by the admissions committee and explain why she deserves to be a part of SaM’s very exclusive club. The series begins with her first night at the club and then progresses through the stories she tells the committee to prove she is worthy to become a permanent part of SaM’s Club.

The stories are better understood if you have read the previous chapters, but each chapter stands more or less on its own.

In Chapter twelve, Evelyn tells the eighth of ten tales to show her superiority as a true Mistress.
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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2009 by The Technician [email protected].

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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Another jurywoman stood. “For your eighth story, Evelyn, tell us of an experience where you may have gone overboard in response to another woman’s attempts to steal your boyfriend.”

Evelyn sighed. I think there might be two or three times when that occurred. I guess I am a bit jealous when it comes to relationships, but probably where I really went overboard was with Diane Wilson.

Diane was a model. My boyfriend was a video producer who did some of our commercials. I know it is not a good idea to mix romance and business, but the sex was plentiful and great and I thought he really did love me… maybe he did. He was supposed to be auditioning models for a new campaign of ours, but he kept having to “reshoot” sequences with Diane. I knew what was going on, but it wasn’t his fault. She was throwing herself at him just to take him away from me. I decided that if she wanted a lot of good sex, I was going to give it to her. Well, maybe it wouldn’t be good, but there would be a lot of it.

I told my boyfriend that we had decided to go another direction with the commercials and asked him to turn over all of the raw video and film. He was really upset by this and we finally broke up over what I was going to do with his work. But it was in the contract, so he had no choice. The contract made it clear that I couldn’t take it somewhere else to have a commercial made out of it, but that wasn’t what I needed it for.

There was a small special effects place that had done some work for us. The owner was a real geek and money wouldn’t buy anything with him, but a weekend at a fancy spa with me got me anything I wanted. To my surprise, he wasn’t all that bad at making love. For some reason he had a real oral fetish. And he wanted to give, not receive. He even went underwater in the hot tub to lick me and bring me off.

Why is it always the quiet ones who surprise you the most?

Anyway, we had a weekend of non-stop sex and he produced the two videos I wanted. With a little geek tech work, the videos of Diane were reworked so that I had something that looked like she was standing in her bedroom in front of a webcam. She was crying at first – that was originally part of the commercial pitch – and then she looks directly into the “webcam” and says, “I’ve done a terrible thing. I cheated on my boyfriend. I begged him to forgive me and swore that I wouldn’t do it again, but he said that I couldn’t control my hormones and that I would cheat on him again. I begged him and begged him and he finally said that if I could get cheating out of my system he would take me back. He said that what I really needed to was screw my head off to overwhelm my hormones and that if I screwed 100 men in one night and had video to prove it he would take me back. I think he thought I would never do it, but I want him back. So log onto the website you see at the bottom of the screen and find out how to become one of those 100 men.”

A website address appeared at the bottom of the video. The video then appeared as an ad popup on twenty or so local websites that catered to the erotic and swinger trade. Within hours there were over 700 responses to the ad. We narrowed that down to 90 area men and 10 women who said they were masters of the strap-on. They were given a date and time to arrive at a particular hotel room. Each was informed that they would be on video and was promised $100 if they were willing to sign a release. All but one of them were and we replaced him with another strap- on specialist.

I created a dummy company and rented three entire floors of a downtown hotel for a “photo shoot.” I needed the floor above and below empty so that nobody would accidently hear something and call the police.

The hotel thought we were filming a commercial. We signed all of the appropriate papers saying nothing would be damaged and that our lighting didn’t require special electrical permits and all of that. I also informed them that there would be a variety of “extras” coming and going during the day. All my bases were covered. There would be no interference from the hotel or from guests or from the police.

Then I arranged with Diane’s agent for her to “audition.”

She arrived bright and early for a 6:00 am makeup check, only the makeup person didn’t apply makeup. He was a medical student who stuck her in the shoulder with a hypodermic filled with a special tranquilizer. This made her appear to be very drunk and she was barely able to stand or talk.

She recognized me as I came into the room. “What are you doing here?” she slurred.

“I am teaching young bimbo bitches not to mess with someone else’s boyfriend.

Then we took her next door where “the booth” was set up. Basically the booth was an enclosed stage with two sets of “stocks” sitting on a padded platform.. One stock was a regular form of stocks, which held her head and hands. The other fit more or less over the waist. Both were only about 3 feet off the platform so that she had to kneel on the padded floor of the video area to be placed in them. We stripped her naked and put her in the stocks. The result was that she was bent over and immobile in a more or less perfect fucking position for either hole.

Next to the booth was a DVD playing on a large screen TV. In the DVD, thanks to my geek friend, was a video in which she was standing next to the stocks pleading with anyone who came through the door. “Please don’t let me back out of this. As soon as I finish a few more drinks, my friend Evelyn is going to lock me in the mating stocks. I will have a small gag in my mouth, but that isn’t to keep me quiet. I totally, absolutely do not want any blow jobs and that is the only way I can be sure that none of you get carried away. There are condoms and tubes of anal lube on the table. Each of you was given a number when you signed in with my friends in the other room. Hold that number up to the camera before you begin. You will get your payment when you leave. Again, please don’t let me back out of this. No matter what you think I say or do, keep going until I have been fucked 100 times in one day.”

There were also six small monitors arranged in front of Diane where she could see them. Five were the live feeds from the cameras mounted in the room. The sixth was the continuously playing DVD. There was a set of earbuds fixed in her ears so that she could hear the DVD and also hear me talking to her. Despite the drugs, she struggled against her bondage when she saw the first man came into the room. I said to her, “Now Diane. You wanted sex from someone else’s man. You are getting it. What do you have to complain about?”

After six or seven men she stopped struggling and just hung in the stocks. That’s when I thought she needed something to liven her up and sent in one of the women. She was a real dyke with tattoos and piercings all over her body. She slapped Diane on the ass and said, “If you make this fun for me, I will make this fun for you.” Then she eased the strap-on into Diane’s ass. Diane came alive as the dildo entered her sphincter. She thrashed against the stocks and yelled and moaned into her gag. After ten or fifteen minutes, the dyke orgasmed and lay down against Diane on top of the stocks. She reached under Diane and began massaging and pinching her nipples and then finally said, “Not bad for a beginner. Come see me some time and I can show you how to really have fun.” With that she pulled backwards and the dildo slipped out of Diane’s ass with a loud pop.

After every ten “extras,” the medical student went in and checked on Diane’s condition and gave her an additional dose of the tranquilizer if needed. In case she couldn’t see the numbers on her monitor I continued to give Diane a running count of how many men and women she had fucked and how many were left.

We were almost finished when one of the people handling the signup room came over to me and said, “We’re one short. Will you settle for 99?”

“No, I have a better idea,” I replied, and picked up my cell phone and made a couple a calls. A few minutes later a leather clad young man entered the room carrying several boxes. “We brought a couple of sizes just to be sure,” he said as he deposited the boxes on the table. Inside the boxes were several different size harnesses and two different versions of “The Punisher” dildo. I stripped down and started strapping on the harness. I would be number 100.

After all of the paid performers were gone, I walked into the booth room wearing a long robe. “Did you have fun, Diane,” I asked. “I promised you 100 fucks in one day. In case you have lost count there have been only 99. Care to guess who number 100 will be?”

With that, I turned on the vibrator inside the dildo and activated the electrical stimulation and turned it to maximum. Then I plunged into her ass. After all of the others, there was no need for lube. Diane came out of her stupor as she slowly realized that it was me, or perhaps as the vibration and shocks began to register on her. I pumped into her for over twenty minutes. This was the first time I had ever used a strap-on with anyone. It wasn’t good sex, but it was good and it was sex.

Finally I told Diane, “100 more strokes and we are done. I started counting the strokes as I drove in and out of her battered ass. As I said ‘100,’ a tremendous orgasm tore through me. I almost lost my balance, but reached over the stocks and grabbed Diane’s hanging udders and squeezed as hard as I could. Hearing her squeal in pain drove me higher that my first climax.

Finally it was over. I unstrapped the harness, leaving the dildo sticking out of her ass. Then I patted her on the butt and said, “My friends here are going to release you and take you to a private psychiatric hospital. They will make sure that you are ok and then release you. By the time that you get out, the story will have already been given to the press is that you were clubbing and overdosed on some really nasty hallucinogenic drugs. The police report will say that you were found wandering the streets naked and incoherent. There will even be long-lens pictures from the paparazzi of an officer wrapping you with his coat and putting you in his car.

Diane, be thankful you are alive and learn your lesson from this. Maybe you will hear my warning to stay away from other women’s men. If you don’t hear that warning, this is one warning you had better hear and believe. If you tell anyone what really happened today, you will disappear forever.”

I turned and walked toward the door still naked and called back over my shoulder, “That’s a wrap.”

It turns out she ended up at the funny farm for a lot longer than I planned. I think it might have even been a couple of years before she got out. I don’t think she ever did model again. That’s a pity, but I guess she was just too weak to handle a little punishment.

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END CHAPTER TWELVE OF FIFTEEN
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