P02E05

Our destination was less than 20 minutes away. We came to a ranch similar to Howard’s, though this one seemed even bigger. There was a car park in front, and a dozen expensive cars were already parked there: Tesla’s, BMW’s, Lexuses, a Ferrari. Howard took me to the front entrance; a doorman tapped his hat in recognition.

We came to a very large room. The interior looked like an old-style gentlemen’s club. There were club sofa’s scattered around the place, some of them occupied with other men, all dressed in a similar manner to me and Howard: suits, bow ties, and the circular zipper thing around the crotch. They were all zipped up now.

All of the windows and most of the walls were covered with heavy velvet curtains in a dark, purple-reddish color. Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, burning candles instead of electrical lamps, yet there were so many of them that the lighting of the room wasn’t dimmed at all, and bathing in a warm, yellowish glow.

Howard was greeted cordially by a bearded man in his late forties. They chatted for a bit, then Howard said: “This is my nephew, Jason. He turned eighteen last week, and is staying with me for a while.”

The man looked at me and said: “Ah, he still owns the luxury of youth, eh? Well, you’re very welcome to our gathering today, young man. My name is Ben.”

He extended his hand and I shook it, not really knowing what to say since I had no idea what this ‘gathering’ was about, anyway.

He snapped his finger, and a waitress appeared. She was dressed in a ridiculous costume. A laced, short apron barely reached her upper thighs. It was attached to a red bodice which was obviously laced way too tight, so her waist was crammed to resemble a bee. Her bosom was pushed upward and outward by a cupless bra with a very tight busk underneath, so her naked breasts were presented like on a shelf. Pink ribbons circled her nipples, bound into a bow tie. Her naked ass was uplifted by another busk running through the crack between her buttocks and her thighs, grabbing her whole ass together and presenting it pushed up into a handsome bunch. Stilettos, the ubiquitous cuffs, and an overkill of make up in black, pink and purple completed her outfit. The wiggle of her hips emphasized the bundled package of her ass when she walked away to fetch me my drink.

A gong sounded. Howard beckoned me to join the others into a dining room in the back. It was almost as big as the main salon, and breathing the same atmosphere of chandeliers and velvet curtains. Just behind the door, standing straight up in a row, stood five waitresses who would serve us for the evening. They were dressed just like the girl who had brought my drink, but these girls obligingly raised and held up their aprons. Their mouths were wide open, holding their lips in an O shape, emphasizing the fact that things might be shoved into them. As the men came through the door, the collection of bodies of our servant crew was thoroughly ogled, fondled, and grabbed by each of the entering men, bringing blushes to the cheeks of their face, and juice to the glands of their slits.

The men seated themselves at the huge, round dinner table in the center of the room. At least two dozen guests could dine here, and the seats were filling up as we entered.

In the centre of the table, only slightly lower than the table top, was a large circular disk, about three meters in diameter. It wasn’t fixed to the outer table rim for the food, and rotated slowly. On one side of the disk was a girl. She was blonde, naked, and lying down on her back. Her legs were bound wide apart, both outward and upward, by looped belts around her thighs. It was clear that nothing was supposed to obstruct viewing her genitals in any way. Her pussy was also spread wide, the outer labia being pulled outward by the spread of her legs, and the pink interior showed clearly in between them: clit, inner labia, the shadow of her slit entrance. She wasn’t really wet, there was just a slight glistening of moisture on her pinkest skin.

On the other side of the circular disc was another fucking machine. The model was different than the one at Howard’s, but the principle was the same: deliver engine-sourced thrusting power. It basically consisted of an engine to produce power, a flywheel to generate motion, and a dildo on a stick for that motion to be funneled to. Unlike all other sex toys, it could actually simulate a fuck; indeed, the machine wasn’t hampered by the limitations of the male body and could produce more fucking power and endurance than any man possibly could. A proper slut would consider it a treat to deserve a session on the machine, although there always was a slightly latent horror related to it as well: would the operator of the machine understand its powers? After all, the small box with the controls to the machine was always off limits for the girl herself.

The shaft with the dildo was pointing straight at the girl’s spread vulva, stopping just 10 cm short of it. It was clear that it could be moved forward to penetrate her at a moment’s notice. It was turned off.

None of the men was more than two meters away from the salacious flesh, spread wide open for their viewing pleasure, the looming machine ready for duty. The men feasted their eyes on her, drinking in the vulgar display of sex meat, cheerfully commenting between themselves on the quality of their favorite details.

When I sat down, I noticed that by every seat, there was a classy menu. I picked mine up, expecting the dishes we could eat to be listed, but the menu was of a quite different type. Each menu item consisted of a description of how the machine could be operated on the girl. The first item read: “Three minutes at varying 1200 -1800 mHz, in a solid, straight cadence. With 10 seconds mid-course break. A perfect starter to get a girl into the right state of mind. “

It was priced at $30, and there was a choice of a dozen alternatives like that in the “pussy tapas” section, just as in the “anal tapas” and “facial tapas“ sections underneath it.

Then it got better. In the “booster “section, Starting at $50 for “Jolly Jack “, dildo size increases could be bought, all the way up to the mysterious and ominous “Mr. Munster“ which would cost $1000 to deploy into her.

In the “side dishes” paragraph, small augmentations could be sprinkled in, one item reading “medium nipple clamps, 30 minutes”, and another “Hitachi clit, two minutes. “

I had stopped looking at the prices, realizing my schoolboy income could not buy a crumb at this table.