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The Academy
Skyhook Erotica
The Academy
Four: The Show
Written by Skyhook
“Alright, hold on”. She was rubbing her eyes with a screwed up hand as she stumbled down the hall, partly to clear the sleep but mostly to shield her eyes from the sun's glare coming through the glass in her front door, blinding even at this early hour. She fumbled with the lock for a few seconds before opening the door to peer though the gap. A postman was waiting outside, his hand mid-reach to ring the doorbell a forth time.
“Morning luv, did I wake you? I've got a recorded delivery, need a signature”.
“Oh right, fine”. She checked the delivery really was for her then signed his paperwork quickly, shutting the door after with as much haste as politeness would allow. She really just wanted to go back to bed. As she walked back upstairs she examined the envelope the postman had handed her. It felt quite expensive, heavyweight cream paper, her name and address handwritten on the front in a neat, contained script. A bit of a mystery, then.
She belly flopped onto her bed with a sigh, then began to work a nail under the envelope flap, frowning slightly. The flap was firmly stuck down but for some reason she felt complied to open it properly rather than just rip across the top with her finger. Eventually the adhesive yielded to her and the envelope was open. She peered inside before pulling out the contents – a single piece of parchment coloured card, blank one side, the message on the other side in the same handwritten stylised script as the envelope. No addresses, simply her name printed at the top above the main body of text.
No. Please no.
“We trust you enjoyed your recent induction to The Academy, and that you now know we are as good as our word. We can and will make your fantasies come true.
We further hope you will now understand we were being entirely forthright when we said there would be a price to pay.
In return for each fulfilled fantasy you must make yourself available to us, should we consider you suitable to play a role in another members fantasy.
As we stated before you agreed to join us, this is not negotiable.
Present yourself this Saturday, 7.30 p.m. prompt at the address below.
Return transport home will be provided, Sunday before noon.”
No. She read and reread the card, unable to take it all in in one go. There was no threat contained in the words, just a statement of fact. She had no illusions about the power these people had though, no doubt about what they were capable of should she not comply. After all, they had engineered her own fantasy with such ease. Her fantasy. Be careful what you wish for. In your head, no matter what your fantasy you still have an element of control, you steer events how you wish. The Academy had stripped her of that, taken her, been true to their word, made her fantasy flesh, but always under their control.
At first, in the days after she'd been high, floating. She'd felt empowered and invincible, like she had seen a secret behind the world, wheels behind wheels that few get to see or even imagine exist. The comedown after had been harsh. A range of emotions had overwhelmed her; fear, tears then anger turning to rage – but she knew she hadn't been used. They had simply given her what she had asked for. Be careful what you wish for.
Now, and above all that, there was a price to pay.
**
Two months after she'd first walked up to the Academy's doors, she finds herself approaching another brooding building. This one is not in the city centre though, it's set back from the road on a wide residential street, part hidden by the trees that line the long gravelled driveway. She slowly walks up the centre of the drive, her feet crunching on the loose ground as she passes cars parked nose to tail along the edge of the lawn. Large Jaguars, Mercedes, BMW's, Audi's, an Aston Martin sat hunched, looking like it was moving at speed even when stationary.
She can't stretch time out any further. Stood on the wide porch in front of the front door, she takes a deep breath in a not entirely successful attempt to slow her heartbeat down to a sprint, presses the brass doorbell. It takes a 20 second wait, but her silent prayer that the ring will be unanswered is dashed when the door slowly opens.
“Come in, please”. The woman who greets her is mid-thirties, immaculately presented in a simply cut cocktail dress, long blonde hair swept back in a chignon. She didn't question who the girl was, simply ushered her into the reception hall.
She wonders if – and how – the hostess recognises her. But when she speaks again it's clear she is new to this woman. They are stood apart, enough distance for the blonde woman to give her an appraising look. There is no malice or unkindness in her eyes though, and when she speaks there is a smile in her voice. “You are perfect! Beautiful! I can see why you were chosen. Come with me please, and I shall explain your role tonight”. With that she gently took the girl's hand in hers and lead her up the broad wood staircase. They ascended slowly, the woman in no particular hurry. The staircase swept around the hall, ending in a narrow galley landing which lead deeper into the house. As they walked down the corridor the woman explained that her name was Sasha, and that she would be on hand to make the girl's stay as comfortable as possible. The girl, for her part didn't feel compelled to talk, other than to make polite noises in reply.
The doors leading off both sides of the corridor were all closed, save for the one Sasha now stopped before. She pushed it slightly further ajar and beckoned with her head for the girl to look inside. In the room were maybe eight to ten men. Dressed formally, some smoking, most with an expensive crystal glass in his hand or near-by. A couple of the men shot a brief look at them through the door then went back to their conversations, only one man choosing to let his eyes linger until Sasha closed the door. The girl looked at her, confusion bold on her face. Sasha merely smiled back, and led her on.
“This will be your room” she said, opening another door. The room was large and richly furnished, a high bed against the far wall, two sizable sash widows on the wall to her right. Sasha told her to make herself comfortable, there was a bathroom through the door on their left, everything in the room was hers to use.
“I shall call for you in about 30 minutes”, Sasha informed her.
“Call me? For what?”
Sasha smiled again. “For the reason you are here of course. For the Show. You have been chosen to be our star guest! We are holding a small party in the ballroom downstairs. A few of the Academy's most favoured and powerful members. They will be finishing their meal soon, and then it will be time for the Show. They have decided on a very particular form of entertainment for tonight.
I shall present you on stage, introduce you to our guests. I shall then retreat, and you will strip for the room.
You will then be joined by the group of gentlemen we saw in the other room.
Our guests have requested to view an orgy. A group of men and a single girl, a girl with your particular personality, used as a whore, turned into a slut before them.
The men will fuck you in turn, share you, violate every hole for the pleasure of our watching guests.
Imagine, as you are used, the looks on the faces watching you. Will the women pity or scorn you? Or will their jealousy be obvious? Will the men study the acts on you dispassionately, or will you feel their heat and desire?
I am so looking forward to the Show!”
And with that Sasha turned and left the room, leaving the girl staring at the closed door, screaming a silent 'no…'
Ready
Written by Mrs Skyhook
Thirty minutes. Not long to… do something. Escape was obviously out of the question, so what to do? She looked around the room. Laid out on the bed was a selection of clothes. Closer inspection revealed they were all in her size. So, she could choose what she was to wear, or what she was to take off. Numbly, she wandered into the bathroom. The bath was big and deep, and there were small bottles of expensive oils and foams on the shelf above. I'll have a bath, she thought, and work out what to do.
A fifteen minute soak later and a plan of action still hadn't presented itself. Still wearing a towel, she looked again at the choice of outfits laid out on the bed. Stocking, suspenders, underwear, blouses, skirts, a glamorous and slinky-looking dress. nothing cheap or slutty. Men of taste, then, she concluded. Aware that she hadn't much time left, she wriggled into lingerie (silk, cool and soothing against her hot skin) and then the dress. The full length mirror in the corner showed a stranger. She felt like a little girl playing dress-up, but she looked… good. Scared and pale, but good. Time stretched…
The knock at the door startled her. Time snapped back. Sasha gave her a nod of approval, then frowned and said “Shoes?” They were by the bed, glittery and higher heeled than she was used to. She slid them on. Sasha smiled, then led her out of the room.
Down a long hallway, a flight of stairs and another long hallway. Miles of carpet that took seconds to cross. The wooden door in front of her opened. All she could see was a blank space with a bench in the middle of it. Slowly other things in the room came into focus – tables on a slightly lower level, glasses sparkling in the low light. The men from before. A knot of panic threatened to stop her breathing. She swallowed it away, and entered the room.
She was standing on a low stage, lit brighter than the rest of the room. The men at the tables were looking at her. She couldn't see their faces. All was quiet. She turned back to Sasha, panic showing in her face. Sasha's voice was firm. “Strip”.
The girl thought “But I don't know how to strip. Do you want me to dance, tease, what?” Sasha's voice again, cutting through the confusion. “Just strip”.
Uncertainly, she reached behind her and pulled down the dress's zip. The noise of it was so loud she winced. She pulled one shoulder strap down, then the other. Her pale skin seemed to her to glow against the dark silk of the bra she'd chosen. She slipped her arms out of the dress and then allowed it to slide down her body, puddling at her feet. She bent down to pick it up, folding it meticulously and then, not knowing where to put it, laid it gently on the floor to one side. It was too beautiful and expensive to just throw somewhere.
Refusing to look directly at the men she couldn't see anyway, and not knowing what else to do, she unhooked the bra and folded that neatly, adding it to the dress. Then the knickers, the silk whispering gently against her legs. She unhooked one stocking, then a voice from the room said “Leave the stockings on”. She looked up at the men, confused again. Several of them seemed to be nodding. She rehooked the stocking, knowing it was nearly time, refusing to think of what was going to happen next and stood, in her stockings, suspenders and high heels, feeling exposed and foolish.
A 'click-click' of heels on the stage, and Sasha took her hand once again, leading her to the bench. “Kneel” she said. The girl complied, awkwardly in her heels. Hands against her inner thighs ordered her to spread her legs, then she felt the cuffs, cold against her ankles, buckled on. Tentatively she tried to move her feet, but she was secured in place. Pressure on her back, obediently she leaned forward, bracing herself over the bench with her hands and feeling the cool air against her cunt. She wondered idly if she was wet already. She didn't feel turned on, exactly. She felt disassociated from her body.
Her hands were removed from the bench and cuffed to the floor. Her head low, her body supported by the bench, her arse in the air and her cunt exposed to anyone who cared to look. Her field of vision was filled with Sasha as she finished buckling the second wrist cuff. Sasha stood up, nodded to the audience and said “Gentlemen. Your entertainment is ready and willing.” Then she left the stage.
That knot of panic rose up again. Sasha was, in some weird way, a protectress. And now she was gone. The girl swallowed the fear away, allowing her mind to drift somewhere… else.
Performance
Written by Mrs Skyhook
Voices murmured, but she couldn't hear what they were saying. Glasses clinked and she was suddenly desperate for a drink. She kept her eyes closed and waited. The first touch of a hand sliding slowly down her back and over her bottom made her shiver. She forced her body to be still and her mind to float in the blackness of nothing. The hand slipped between her legs, parting her cunt to allow a finger to work its way inside her. She realised with a sudden stab of shame that she was wet and the unknown fingers were making her wetter still. She had time to wonder 'What kind of slut have I become?” before another hand, on her left breast, made her shut her mind down.
Sensations took the place of thoughts. Her body was the centre of attention, hands stroking her breasts, thighs, back, bottom and cunt. She knew she was dripping. She felt… admired. Desired. A giggle caught in the back of her throat at the silly rhyme. Too-rough fingers pinching her nipple made her gasp and the giggle receded. Someone raised her chin and she opened her eyes, a dark-haired, professional-looking man with a serious expression stared into them. Fingers pressed against her mouth and she took them in, welcoming them as her cunt welcomed other fingers. She closed her eyes again.
Something cold dripped onto her, warming as it flowed towards her arse. She shivered again as someone began to massage it into her, a finger insistent at the opening. There were fingers in her mouth, in her cunt, rubbing her clit… she pushed backwards without being aware of it, moaning softly as her arse was penetrated as well. She felt empty. Fingers were not enough. For the first time, she began to think about what happened next, and she realised she not only wanted it she craved it. The realisation was so frightening she shut her mind down again. She refused to want this. This was somebody else's fantasy, not hers. She just wanted it to be over quickly. And yet she craved being full, full to bursting.
The fingers in her mouth were gone. Something bumped against her face and she automatically opened her mouth again. Dimly she realised she was sucking an unknown man's cock. It tasted slightly of soap and smelled of washing powder and warm skin. It was warm and smooth, uncut. Not huge. Nice. She sucked willingly.
Another cock, a bit larger than the first by the feel, slid agonisingly slowly into her cunt, opening her wider. There was pressure between her arse cheeks, felt like a hand, and something, probably a thumb, working its way in and out of her arse. So much sensation, so full…
An unknown, unknowable time later, the cock in her cunt was removed and she felt like a husk. Another presented at the entrance to her arse, opened nicely already by the thumb, and pushed its way into her. She cried out as she stretched around it, but not from pain. She was so slippery and hot, there was no pain. Not at first, anyway. This man was a little rough, thrusting into her again and again and she felt real fear for the first time since the men started touching her. But he'd had enough, and was replaced by fingers stretching her cunt, stretching her open open open…
There was a new cock in her mouth and a hand up inside her, but she still wasn't full enough. Her nipples were tingling and she couldn't tell if they were being squeezed or sucked or what. Her arse stretched again, around yet another cock, she wasn't sure if there was enough room inside her but her body was obedient and welcoming.
Her ears still weren't working, she could hear the men talking but only fragments made sense to her. A discussion seemed to be going on. Suddenly she was totally empty, every opening gaping at the suddenness of it. Her ankles and wrists were uncuffed, she was helped to stand and led to a sofa. She could feel juices running down her legs and wondered how many had come inside her. But she couldn't remember anyone doing so. It must be me, she thought, ashamed once again.
In her efforts to avoid looking directly at anyone, she had missed the man on the sofa. He now filled her vision, like headlights to a rabbit. Now that she had seen him, she couldn't pull her eyes away. He was idly stroking his cock, and part of her mind said “Handsome looking member” but before she could begin to wonder what she was supposed to do with it, she was turned around and placed directly in front of him. She closed her eyes again as hands parted her buttocks and she was lowered onto him, his cock sliding deep into her arse. More hands spread her legs and covered her breasts, pushing her backwards so she was leaning against him, his chest hot against her back. Her hands were held, her fingers wrapped around more men, while another knelt between her legs and began to fuck her cunt. She was floating again, full to bursting, desperate to come but unable to, there was simply no room and her clit, engorged and begging to be used, was ignored.
Another cock entered her mouth, and she wondered how that was possible. One in each hand, one in her mouth, one in her cunt and one in her arse, that made five. She wasn't aware of her hands being part of her, they moved without her knowledge or permission.
Emptied once again, she was helped to the floor and her limbs arranged, legs spread, arms above her head. Her shoes were gone. Nobody was touching her. Slowly she became aware of rhythmic, wet noises and heavy breathing and risked opening her eyes. She was surrounded by naked men, cocks in hand, wanking over her. A circle jerk, with her as the target. This thought, which just hours (or was it years?) ago she would have found disgusting, thrilled her. Her clit throbbed and she moved her right hand down towards it. Nobody stopped her. The nearest man nodded at her, so she closed her eyes and gave herself over to self-pleasure.
The first spurt of come hit her chest, hot and bleach-smelling and glorious. She wanted more, and wasn't disappointed. She came herself before the last man did, crying out as his spunk hit her belly. Slowly she rubbed all their come together, spreading it across her breasts and stomach. Then, sticky but satisfied, she lay still, her eyes closed and her mind floating away. She was vaguely aware of the men leaving, but nobody gave her instructions so she stayed where she was, spread open on the floor.
A gentle touch on her shoulder tugged her mind back to the present. Sasha knelt beside her, a pile of clothes in her hands. She smiled. “You did well. A car will take you home in fifteen minutes. Here are your clothes.”
The girl stretched languorously, then got up and began to dress, totally unselfconscious now. A thought, a question, wormed its way into her tangled mind. “Why did they not come inside me?” she asked. Sasha smiled again. “Who wants sloppy seconds?” she said simply.
She sat in the luxurious car, feeling spunk drying on her skin. She knew she should feel ashamed of her conduct and her appearance. But somehow, she didn't. She felt both used and empowered, filthy and exhilarated. Her nipples were bruised. Her arse and cunt were sore. Her jaw ached. She wondered if the chauffeur, silently polite, was one of the men. She couldn't remember what any of them had looked like.
Back in her bedroom at home, she stripped and laid down on the bed. The dried spunk was itchy and she revelled in it. She knew it would flake off over her clean sheets, but she didn't care. Maybe tomorrow she'd take the sheets into the garden and burn them. Right now, she wanted to feel, not think. Her hand crept between her legs and she remembered…
©Skyhook September 2009