13 comments/ 78426 views/ 17 favorites Truth Cries from the Semen By: Gisevius Truth Cries from the Semen, a Metaphysical Journey ====================== Author's notes. Almost a narrative, the story recounts in first person a melancholic intellectual young woman's self-discovery journey from naïve "real world" pornography exposure to her ominous choice to throw herself, all at once, into an entire night of visceral fetishistic group sex. Beware, dear reader! What awaits you is so much more than a gonzo sperma story! It's intensely psychological and philosophical in one moment and then hyper-graphic the next. I am merciless, but never cruel, to the mind and body of the main character, Veronica. Yet it serves a purpose: only through the simultaneity of being psychically abstractly deep and physicalistically shockingly vivid can the narrative ever pretend to justify itself in reaching the liberations and true-heart contentments to which it ultimately proclaims. Acting on the temptation to jump ahead to the wank material will, I believe, only be to your loss. Why has Veronica gone down the fateful path? How did she do it? What did she think? How did she feel? I do aim for certain aspects of verisimilitude (reality-likeness); but like in any art, I must arrange and exaggerate certain qualities along the way while suppressing others in order to achieve dramatic effect. All that I can recommend is that you, to any extent possible, clear your mind of preconceived notions, and enter. ====================== It's been three days since I returned from my group-sex initiation into the club. Three days of new sights, new smells, new sounds: a new world. These three nights I have barely slept; my body enchantedly aches as my mind races through the lurid scenes over and over again of what I did, of the atrocious bliss that swept me away, of my unmitigated depravity. I feel something has changed in me so utterly deeply, I am only beginning to comprehend it at the margins; it's as if some great truths are just at my grasp. The smallest things set my mind into sweet despair- a newspaper rustling down an alley; a beautiful stranger hailing a cab; a siren's wail fading into the distance. Sometimes I am so overcome with emotion I just stop in the middle of the sidewalk and close my eyes and let the Sun warm my face: I can feel the Earth turn. How can it be that I am alive? I am just a human, a woman. My mind's eye moves out, above the clouds, into the coldness of space and reflects back at the sublime horror of the truth: here I stand on this spinning, hurtling hard rock, in endless space and in infinite time, one of innumerable creatures, grinded out of the endlessly recombined universal cosmos of Forever, who has come into being and will some day pass away. Nature itself, rising, surpassing, indeed bludgeoning through me, through my body, in all its violent depredations, does not grieve for what it wills, what it eternally decrees. I am joyfully, yet woefully, condemned into this flesh, this human-ness, this all-devouring lust. Only human. The veneer is peeling away: I am this beautiful obscenity called Nature, in all its majestic soiled smuttiness, in all its perverted noble grandeur. I embrace it all, for it is I. I feel absolutely no shame for what I did at the club. I am truly free and truly responsible. There can be no alternative. It's been three days. All I can do with these scribbling and scratch words is start at beginning and go the end, leaving nothing of importance out, no matter how small the detail, no matter how long it takes. I feel a keen desire to understand the course of events that have lead me to this self-discovery of my perviness; to understand (or try to) who I am, who I always was, who I always will be. If someone else is reading this other than myself it must be by mistake; I write only for myself, for answers- answers for myself. My name is Veronica. I am almost 24 years old. I am not a pretty girl, perhaps not even average. I stand just over 5'7" and skinny, even boney; my hair is jet black and straight, almost shoulder length, my eyes are ocean blue. My breast are small but firm, at 32B. My bones are too big for my body; try as I might, I tend to lurch a bit as I walk; similarly, my mouth, nose and eyes are all just a little too big for my face. My cheekbones are too high. While I am feminine in manner, my graces have sometimes made me feel confused, even ashamed, by touches of androgyny, of maleness, at the edges. I live in the central United States and work as a financial analyst for a major corporation. I graduated from a prestigious liberal arts college with a degree in mathematics and philosophy just over a year ago. In college, my sexual experiences were probably typical for a girl. I had a couple boyfriends over the years, but they never lasted. I also had two female lovers; I've always found the female body alluring. I am bisexual. Sex for me was a horny release, it didn't consume me. I'd masturbate a couple times a week to some hot guy or gal from one of my classes when I wasn't in a relationship. Not one to initiate things, shyness, even painfully awkwardness, has made me often feel sad and isolated from the rest of humanity. I've always had a hard time meeting people- my schoolmates and now my co-workers have been my social circle, my "friends", but really acquaintances. Many people reject me or are intimidating by me because I come across as so cold and logical and unfeeling. I know am too self-absorbed in my mind- to the point that it sometimes drives me to despair. The truth is, I feel the world intensely, but my thoughts are so private, so abstract, they are difficult to communicate to any other soul. My books and my computers have been my only true compatriots in life. Until three days ago. After graduating from college and before starting work I had a lot of free time. One day, I don't even remember how, I stumbled onto a XXX site on the Internet. It was the first time I'd ever seen porn. I don't think it was even that special, just some boy-girl, girl-girl couplings. What entranced me was the way they fucked. Wow! It was just so raw, not like the soft namby-pamby experiences I'd had- asking about my "feelings" and if this-or- that was "okay." Just stick-it-in raw. I masturbated like crazy! I eagerly sought more videos and pictures over several weeks. My new hobby grew into quite an enterprise. Some days I couldn't wait to get home from work to see if a DVD had arrived or a movie had finished downloading on my computer. I acquired a large set of dildos, vibrators and various creams that I'd use to heighten my sessions. I started lurking on porn forums where other people shared my interests, seeking hints and reviews that matched my tastes. My language had already changed so that I could write in the gritty, raw language that captured the experience of porn. I hadn't engaged in real sex in a long time and didn't seem to be missing it. Early on I liked "big dick" videos and "lesbian pretty-girl" videos (but which were designed for a male audience!). My interests in porn gradually became more refined, and more extreme. My tastes unconsciously transformed themselves and followed whatever excited me the most, whatever got me off the hardest. One day, I randomly downloaded a movie where two girls were fucked by thirty men and had semen ejaculated all over them. This film transfixed me in a way that was utterly beyond my comprehension and it resulted, instantly, in several mind-blowing orgasms. I literally fell out of my chair in a quivering and gushing wetness upon seeing this type of video for the first time. Something in me just "clicked" and I wanted more, unbelievably more! I came to love gang bangs: seeing a huge group of men fuck a horny girl in every opening and then spray semen, over and over again, all over her willing face and mouth. American videos in time came to no longer satisfy me; my collection grew to include European and Japanese semen fetish videos, mostly downloaded over the Internet. I found the foreign videos, and the actresses in them, far more extreme and authentic than those made domestically. The more the girls loved it and the more semen there was, the more I was turned on! While many videos sucked or were just plain sad (because the girl hated it), my quest to find the girl(s) who most loved being the group's sex toy became unquenchable. I began to fantasize intensely and vividly that I was the girl in the video clip; that I was being fucked and then covered in semen. I'd often play videos at slow speed during the height the "cum storm" just to heighten the effect and increase my orgasm intensity. I'd start begging for cum and spread my pussy juices on my face (it was the only sex juices I had!) while getting off. In time, however, I started to feel frustration. I had seen so many videos and had heightened my masturbation experiences to a level that there was nothing more to be done to make it better, to make it more real. I so truly yearned to be one of the girls in the video. I became unhappy- nay, depressed. I hadn't analyzed what I was doing all this time, but I came to realize that I'd become a real pervert- and a degenerate masturbator! Just what was it about cum that charmed me? Just who were these girls that loved to be merciless fucked and then to begged to be sprayed down until they nearly drown in semen? What was it that they knew that I didn't? I started to watch the videos even more intently- instead of concentrating on the cocks and the flying sperm- my curiosity about the girls themselves became pointed and perceptive. The way their eyes and mouths moved; the way their arms flailed and hands grasped; what they said- not what the director told them to say or do, but what the meta-porn said: what the body of the real, living, breathing actress herself communicated to me. I found three "types" of girls I liked the most in the videos I watched. None were purely of one type, but their fetish, their love of semen, and of being the center of attention of the group, expressed itself in predominantly one of these three ways. Some of them were like pigs- they just wanted to be "made messy." Others were having fun- they laughed and giggled innocently- the whole experience was horny and amusing. Yet others were intently, seriously submissive; even desperately so. I knew I was of this last type. Something deep-seated in me connected with the submissives in the videos- not their "character"- but instead the real "actress": the feeling of helplessness, the loss of control, the surrender of dignity and individuality to the group, the overwhelming sense of doom of being "degraded and used" – of wanting this to happen to them. I didn't understand all of this at the time, but I do now. It was just the screaming ecstasy in their eyes and on their faces; the licking of the jizz off their lips; the begging, the nymphomaniacal pleading for more cum. This sex gave them some thing and I wanted to know what that was, because I knew I direly needed it too. The more vividly I imagined being her, the harder I came, the more deep and explosive my masturbated orgasms thundered through me. I knew I needed to stop with the videos and with all this fakeness and make something happen in real life. My frustration grew into despair. I so yearned to be "the girl in the video!" Yet I had many doubts- would it be safe? What about diseases? I felt disgusted with myself at times that I had become so charmed by this "degrading" porn and by these perverted thoughts. Did I have a choice? I tried to stop fantasizing and convince myself by intellect alone, through a kind of rational analysis, that my obsession was unjustifiable. Just when I thought my mind had made a breakthrough and resolved the matter by rigorous thinking once-and-for-all, I'd in matter of hours or days return to friggering myself off, hornier than ever, vividly imagining myself doing very unsafe things with groups of anonymous men at local dive bars or in porn theaters. I could either live with this private frustration, and in denial, for the rest of my life, or I could do something. I burned with desire, yet, simultaneously, doubts intruded all the time- doubts about myself. For what was I searching? Why did I feel repulsion when I tried to be "analytical and objective" about my desires- yet, simultaneously, phenomenonally bodily stimulated with the most craven yearnings imaginable? I'd excelled at reading and writing about literature, philosophy, and math for years yet all this mental acuity left me blank- an enigma to myself. Again, I truly despaired with unparalleled anguish. I resolved: I'd find a way, somehow, to make my dream real or to get real answers to end them. I found only one local swingers club in my town, but it just seemed creepy, just from the website. It was not long after, quite by accident, I found a series of posts by a "woman" on a sex forum I'd lurked in for a long time. Her posts were warm and informative. She apparently was the leader, a mistress, of some kind of "sex club" on the West Coast. She described all kinds group sex activities in her club, going back many years. Whenever someone asked about joining, always single men, she apologized and said that it was "invite only" and that she was only there to talk about the "lifestyle." I knew I needed to take a risk. I made a plan. The next time I saw "her" online I made her latest post very large on the computer screen. I then stood next to it, fully clothed, and held my hand down at 45 degree angle. My camera took a ten-second delay picture. I quickly copied it into my computer and loaded Photoshop. I blurred my face and then uploaded it to a random picture website. I opened a private message dialogue and typed in "Hello.. I am 23/f and need to talk with you about group sex at your club. Here is a picture I just took of myself. Look at the computer screen. I am real." I read my entry repeatedly and paused. What am I doing, I thought to myself. For a long time fingers of my right hand gyrated over the ENTER key as I ruminated in doubt. I felt some fingers press down and a key clicked. This is silly, I thought, it's certainly some guy just amusing himself! At least someone would cum on me tonight, virtually, I giggled at myself. I waited, stewing in a sense of my own foolishness. About five minutes later a response appeared. "Pleased to meet you. http:// ... " I quickly copied the address and pasted it into a new window. Up popped a picture of her.. yes, her. A woman in her 40s. She was beautiful, about 5'2" with long natural red hair with large breasts; dressed in a tight T-shirt and jeans, her athletic figure showed through as she stood next to the monitor which showed the picture I just sent her! Another message followed: "Let's take this to encrypted chat. IM me at ..." I still have the chat. Hi? I am Victoria, what's your name? ... Veronica Tell me the kinkiest thing on your mind, Veronica. Don't think. Type! You're thinking. I'm sorry, I am still stunned that you're... you. :) Cocks exploding, jizz on my face, me begging for more. Wunderbar! So sexy! You're so beautiful, inside and out. I've read every post you've written. You're so kind. I am so frustrated; in despair, really. About what? I want to experience what I wrote above but have no way to realize it. Sometimes things are best left as fantasy. Until you're ready. You are so young. I am ready. How do you know? Tell me. A passion burns in me 24/7 to be ravished by a huge group of men.. to be crushed in a bacchanalistic cataclysm of cock and semen. I cannot stand fantasizing anymore; something deep in my soul demands I experience my heart's desire. You're thinking :) That's very powerful, Veronica. Is your boyfriend a part of this? I haven't had a boyfriend for a couple of years; I just masturbate to group sex/semen videos all the time and dream and dream. The thought of regular sex seems boring, frankly. I try to analyze myself, why I have these sick and voracious desires, but all that follows is frustration and depression. I know I am a freak, a pervert, a weirdo... it's just... Those are misunderstood terms the world places on us. They do not know us. They do not know what it's like. How it really feels. You are not alone. I don't know if I can help you, but let's talk on the phone. Is that okay? Yes, please. Call me in 30 minutes at ... I will. I promise! As I pushed myself back into the chair, my eyes fixated on "You are not alone." My palms were so sweaty and my so hands jittery during the chat with Victoria, I could barely type. The doubts again flooded in, stronger than ever. Why did I come across so confident to Victoria? Group sex is dangerous, with all the diseases, right? Who is this "Victoria" woman anyway? I agonized with doubt and a sense of self-loathing for the whole 30 minutes. I thought about forgetting the whole thing and purging Victoria's picture and the chat record. As the thirty minute mark arrived all I could do was look down at the monitor: "You are not alone." As I picked up the phone receiver, I could feel sweat drip from my armpits and from the navel of my breasts. My fingers, nervy, almost missed two digits as I punched in Victoria's phone number. In one ring, I heard a pickup. There was no greeting. "Tell me what you're feeling, Veronica" a soft feminine voice questioned. Suddenly, tears welt up in my eyes and my breath choked up. I tried to speak but only mousy gasps came out. "It's okay, Veronica. Let yourself feel. Accept this moment fully, completely. It's the first step," Victoria consoled. "Anxiety. Excitement. Fear. Confusion." I whimpered into the phone. "Good. If you didn't feel this way, I would know you aren't ready," Victoria continued, "You are a very intelligent and intense girl, Veronica. I can already tell you try so hard to intellectualize everything but it only alienates you from your true, innermost self." "But I need to understand. Why am I so confused, Victoria?" I queried, my eyes filled with sorrow again. "First you must feel and live to the utmost, then comes the understanding," Victoria continued, "Listen to the little voice inside, your muse. Reason must be a guide, not your slavetasker." What Victoria said I always, deep down, knew to be true; but for someone, a beautiful stranger, to confirm this, stunned me. I felt a true kinship with this woman. Tears welt up in my eyes again: "Will you help me?" Victoria replied: "I cannot make any promises, but come to the club during off-hours for an interview, and we'll see. I'll email the details." "You are so kind. Thank you for your compassion, for your tenderness." I replied, still on the verge of tears. I dropped the phone receiver into position and collapsed into the chair. The past hour had consumed so much energy it felt as if an entire day had passed. Feel, I told myself. My interview at the club came a week later. An easier week it had been: I was doing something. I took the day off work; the flight to the West Coast was three hours and I spent the day there and then flew back in the evening. As I arrived at the club by taxi, I could clearly see this was an upscale area. I approached the simple two-story building; ivy covered much of the façade. The entrance door spelt out "P R I V A T E". I stood at the door for a minute as the doubts returned, but I shooed them away. I pressed the buzzer and waited. Truth Cries from the Semen The door opened revealing a small man in his 70s dressed in a tuxedo. "Lady Veronica?" he asked. I nodded. "Lady Victoria and Lady Daniella are almost ready to see you. Come," the man motioned his hand inward. "I am Henke. Come to the bar and sit yourself," Henke said in what I determined was a Swedish accent. I quickly walked through a large foyer and into much larger room. Henke then disappeared into another room, behind a curtain. Sitting at the bar, I looked around. The room was vast, more like a ballroom. A bar with counter ran along a wall a quarter the length of the room. The wooden "dance" floor area- it had to have been 5000 square feet alone- met up to a connected open area with couches and tables, almost restaurant style. Tables, chairs, and folding mattresses stacked up in a corner of the room. An odd almost diving-board style platform extend up and over the vast room at another far end. The walls adorned with magnificent art and sculpture that seemed to represent all of humanity- Aztec temples, Eqytian pyramids, Roman houses, Japanese pagodas, and so on. Tasteful paintings of naked people standing, running, fighting, copulating showered other surfaces: African men slaying an elephant with spears; a Native American couple looking over a lake sunset; an Aboriginal dancing; among dozens of other representations. At another far side of the ballroom I could see what looked like a large indoor pool and showers, perhaps a bathroom or locker room. Several hallways and corridors branched off at yet different locations into parts unknown. I heard a loud clacking sound and turned around. Victoria and another woman, presumably Daniella, approached. I stood up and faced them. Victoria was dressed in a tight T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers, just as the picture showed. Without a word, Victoria tightly embraced me; her long red hair smelled of roses. She kissed my cheeks and looked right up into my eyes; she brushed my hair back with her fingers and then embraced me again. I could feel her large breasts push up under mine. "I was so afraid you wouldn't come. I am glad you did. You are not alone." I felt overwhelmed; emotions thundered through me: acceptance, excitement, relief. I embraced her tightly. We must have stood there for a whole minute like this. "This is Daniella, one of the mistresses of the club," Victoria pulled back and motioned. Daniella had an almost foreboding look. She was maybe fifty years old but had a kind of timelessness to her. She stood about six feet in height, skinny and tall, but was well over six feet in the high-heeled shiny black boots she wore; a simple blood-red dress covered her body. Her lips had black lipstick- the same color as her straight-black shoulder-length hair, not unlike mine. Daniella didn't smile but awkwardly grasped and held my right hand with her left and then curtly said: "I am looking forward to your interview. Victoria believes you have enormous... potential." Daniella released my hand by pushing it down slightly; her piercing green eyes gazed down at me. Victoria then motion for us to sit at a table. Victoria and Daniella sat next to each other; I sat on the opposite side. "You want to be gang banged and covered in semen by a huge group of men Veronica? How have you obtained your knowledge of this need?" Daniella straight-forwardly asked in her slightly gravely voice. My face turned hot with embarrassment. Victoria briefly embraced my left hand, "It's okay. Just tell us your story." I explained to them about my fantasies and how they all started and grew to the present day. Victoria motioned with her hand and spoke: "Veronica, dear, the videos you masturbate to aren't like the group-sex semen events at the club. Videos are 'slow-motion' compared to the real thing. There are no edits and no cameras to position; there is no stopping and no pause button. Whatever you think you've seen or dreamed about that's intense is tame compared to what happens here at the club. Our events of this theme are raw, rough, even bestial. We have group sex events regularly and the participants have no shame, no reservations, and no self-consciousness. We are a community of perverts here. They respect the rules of the event but otherwise push things to the maximum." Victoria continued: "For what you request, you must be willing- no, eager- to submit your body and your mind to the group totally and completely as nothing less than a ritualistic sacrifice. You will not have control and you will feel and experience things you cannot even imagine as they are not on video and never could be. You must be willing to give of yourself until there's nothing left mentally or physically." Hearing these words sent a flash through my spine- of fear and excitement. Victoria explained more: "Many of our events are couples based- we have about 400 couples in the club. There are also about 40 women who are single or with a female partner; the women may usually come to any event. In addition, there are also about 200 single men who are selectively invited, often individually, depending on the event theme. Of the 240 women in the club, only around two dozen like hundred or hundreds-of-men per woman sex- those who have an unquenchable fetish for cum. Such events always end with the woman or women covered in floods of ejaculate. Maybe you should consider voyeuring at the club first or having a smaller gang bang downstairs in the dungeon, with perhaps 20 men, and you can of course set the limits of exactly what you want to experience in that situation. That way you can be sure. About 80% of our women have group sex with men at some point. Just on a more modest scale." Feeling a bit bashful, I responded: "I want as many men as possible, but with one condition. If I can be with another woman partner at the same time, then I'll have the courage to endure anything." Daniella shifted brusquely in her chair. "Veronica, you haven't had sex in years let alone a small group experience- you haven't swallowed semen yet you want to go from nothing to everything! Preposterous!" Daniella thundered with a glower, and then continued: "You young women are spoiled by the Internet. Too many of you think what you see is real when in fact it's sanitized. Do you know what it's really like to swallow semen? From scores of men? No, you don't. Few women like it! In the past, women were normally over 35 before coming to the club asking for this kind of visceral madness. To even conceive of the kind of intense experience you want was simply not possible at your age even 10 years ago," Daniella continued, "We are a sex club with hundreds of members from all over the world and where fanatical fetishes and extreme behaviors are not just expected, but demanded. The last thing we want is some young, confused porn-fed woman who is covered in semen running away in horror because reality wasn't like a video game. You have a tough case to make, computer girl!" Dumbfound and flustered I just sat there, reeling internally in doubts and intense self-consciousness. Victoria hesitated but then spoke: "Veronica, let's try some different questions..." "No!" Daniella interjected. "She needs to answer with her heart and soul, right here and now. No questionnaires for this one! It's too unbelievable!" Daniella snickered with disgust and stood up, as if ready to leave. I suddenly felt overcome with new emotions; my eyes glimmered. I pensively rocked back and forth in the chair for a moment. I felt like I was about to burst out crying but then I answered. "I need this," I squeaked. I don't know where the words or the confidence came from, it was as if they just piped up from some subterranean froth. "What did you say?" Daniella asked, sitting down again. "I need this." I repeated more firmly. "What do you need, Veronica?" Daniella quizzed as she slammed the palms of her hands down the table. I jolted. "I need to be gang fucked. I need cum everywhere inside and out. I need to submit to the group," I stated, starring down at the table. Daniella violently reached across the table and grabbed my blouse. Her strength was incredible. She lifted me out of the chair and pulled me part way across the table, causing me to gasp out loud. She leaned forward and stared right into my eyes from about six inches and demanded: "Dreaming is free, Veronica. Your persistence of vision does not come without great sacrifice. Are you ready to throw yourself into the chasm of this insanity? Is that what you need little girl? Look right into Victoria's eyes and tell her what you need. Do it, or leave this moment!" I raised my head and for several seconds peered into Daniella's eyes, falling into their depth as she held me partly suspended in the air. Who was this woman? From where did she get this power? My mind blanked out in some unknown fit of calculation. I turned to Victoria and spoke: "I need to be a group fuck toy. I need to obey the group. I need the men of your club to ejaculate in me and on me. I need to feel, smell, and taste the semen of hundreds of men. I need to have jizz splattered on my face and to choke on it when I swallow and beg for more. I need to be used all night long by the men and women of your club. Every single one of them until they are each satiated beyond all previous limits. I need this." Victoria's mouth opened as if in disbelief. I looked back at Daniella. Daniella smiled, pushed me back, and released me. Feeling like a kitten in its mother's mouth, my catatonic shell plopped back into the chair. I felt scared that I had said those words with such authority. I felt scared of myself. Doubts flooded back in as I just sat there as Victoria and Daniella stared at me with now blank expressions. I had not a clue what they were thinking! Maybe they'd burst out laughing, I feared. "Excuse us," Daniella said. Daniella grabbed Victoria's right hand, nearly jerking her out of the chair. They walked into another room. I closed my eyes and raised my legs up onto the chair against which I rested my head. In this fetal-like position I felt like a turtle without a shell- under attack by a vulture. Five minutes passed, but it seemed like forever. "Veronica, come to me." I heard Daniella's voice in the far distance. I stood up and saw Daniella's commanding stance across the ballroom. Victoria stood a few feet behind Daniella. I trembled at her intimidating look as I slowly, docilely, approached. Daniella warmly hugged me and kissed my forehead. Holding me close she said "You are accepted into the club. We see the fire in your eyes. You belong with us. Soon we will be much closer. Victoria will make all your arrangements. Good bye for now but not long." Daniella quickly turned and walked away. I was too stunned to reply. Victoria approached and we hugged. "You beautiful and brave creature," she said. "Thank you for trusting me." I replied. "Veronica, I know that was rough. We need to be sure." Victoria explained. Victoria continued: "Here is what I plan: on a Saturday evening soon you and another woman will be initiated into the club. Afterward, the theme will be open cum fetish on the main floor, meaning the women there want to be gang-banged and ejaculated on at will by groups of men. This attracts some of our most celebrated women in the club and lots of men. You can read more on our private website when you return home." Victoria explained more about the club membership including its organization and how sex disease testing was done in order to ensure the safety of all members. We walked through the club facilities. She showed me the half-Olympic size pool and the huge unisex bathroom. There were no doors or curtains on the toilet or shower stalls. The dungeons would have to wait for another time Victoria apologized, as they were in use by several people in a private session. As we returned to the ballroom, I noted something I'd missed earlier: there were drains in the floors. I asked about the drains and also the large platform that jutted over a section of the room. "Those things have their purposes," Victoria grinned. "Notice the ceiling surfaces?" Victoria asked, pointing up. As I looked up it seemed oddly styro-foamy. "They reflect sounds of a certain volume; we have almost no need for amplification as 'loud' sounds naturally reflect and can be heard by all in the room. Low volume sounds are not reflected." I nodded, not quite understanding its function. Henke informed me that my cab was waiting. Victoria and I hugged and I thanked her again. She would contact me soon with more details about my initiation event. In the days after I returned from my interview at the club all I could think about what was what the reality of being cummed on by hundreds of guys would really be like in that ballroom. I had gained admission to the club but yet I still had doubts about following through. All that semen- that hot manly sticky smell all over me, in me. I needed to be sure- or at least more sure. I knew I needed to take another risk. I made a new plan. I knew of a porno store had video booths in the back. What I resolved to do was to go there after a Saturday night and to take in the atmosphere. I'd dress up boy-ish like in jeans and with an hooded sweatshirt and no makeup. If there were more than one or two people in the booth areas, I'd leave immediately. I was there to observe, not doing anything, I decided. I sat in my car observing the porno shop entrance for a few minutes. Nobody entered; it was 7AM on a Sunday morning after all and the Sun still hadn't come up over the horizon. As I approached the store's door I paused. Maybe this was a bad idea I thought. Didn't I know what I knew? No, I had to be certain, I clarified to myself. As the door opened, I felt the glare of bright lights. I quickly walked through aisles of porn DVDs. A female clerk greeted me with a smile but I ignored her. Another clerk, a male, was pushing a cart full of boxes; he didn't see me. I rapidly pushed myself through the long black curtain that separated the retail area from the video booths. Inside, I immediately stopped. It was very dimly lit; it was very dark with my sunglasses on. My breath quicken as I looked around and saw no one; however, I could hear porno sex-fucking sounds in the distance. At least one other person was there. There were two long rows of booths- about seven booths on each side; each booth had a small black curtain that occluded visibility but didn't block it outright. I breathed in deeply and smelt the air. I could smell a mixture of manliness- sweat and semen- and what seemed like cleaning supply bleach, though the latter was faint. I darted into one of booths and pulled the curtain back. For several minutes I quietly sat there listening, breathing. I could smell the musky smell everywhere. The more I breathed, the more I got turned on. My tits perked up and I could feel my crotch getting wet. My mind raced in the stimulation of the smell and with hearing the sex-noises in the distances. I looked over to the next booth and saw that it was empty. I quickly moved over to it. Then I another and another. Each one smelt a little different; each new booth was just a little more thrilling and arousing than the last. I moved to yet another booth. In this new booth, I could see jizz all over the place. Someone had ejaculated all over the plastic cover of the video screen; drips and splotches of white paste were slightly gelatinous. Another spray of cum was splattered against the wall opposite the curtain. I sat there and took in the titillating air and stared at the texture and the color of the semen. I put in a couple dollars in quarters and selected a gang bang highlights movie. I rested back down into the wooden seat and looked out to see if anyone was nearby; it was then that I noticed that the inside of the curtain was sopping wet- yet another guy had discharged in here. Wow! As the movie came up my eyes darted from each man-spray clump to the next and I inhaled faster and deeper. I wish I had been in here earlier; this couldn't have happened more than thirty minutes ago. The semen was fresh. In the movie three guys were fucking one girl. She was totally into it. I could tell it was near the end of the scene. Her ass was getting reamed and she was cursing and begging for them to cum on her face. Even though I promised myself I wouldn't do anything in these booths, I couldn't help myself. I unbuttoned my jeans and put my left hand down my pants. I fingered and rubbed my twat as the movie played on. In the movie, the girl turned around and got on her knees. Cum exploded into her mouth and then the other two guys copiously shot on each of her cheeks. She sucked and licked the jizz up, cat-like. I wished I was her! I got on my knees and pushed my nose right up to the real jizz on the plastic overlay and breathed it all in; then I breathed in as hard as I could the other two splooge deposits in the booth. Each one smelt a little different- one was kind of salty, another musky, yet another was kind of clay-like. I loved it all; I felt myself go into a brief swoon. I fell back into the seat while rubbing myself and I orgasmed three times in a row; I could hear my head thump against the booth's frame each time I shivered. The girl in the video looked up and smiled. I wished I was with her- I'd devour all the semen on her face in seconds, I thought. This was enough to convince myself. I was so horny! I moved to another booth and then another, but they were not interesting. Then I noticed that I had moved very close to a booth with a guy in it. Off at a forty-five degree angle in the next set down I could see a man through the curtain. The curtain wasn't pulled all the way through- on the video I saw two girls having sex. The man was stroking his cock right out in the open! I stared as his hand repeatedly went over his length at different rates of speed. I started touching myself again and feeling all hot and sweaty. His rod could go at any moment. I licked my lips and rubbed my face with my right hand. Should I... go over to him? Just then, he moaned and erupted. I watched as cum shot onto the video screen in seven or eight strong bursts. The man stood up and zipped his pants and quickly left. Of course, I moved right over to his booth. I inhaled his smell and touched myself again, which sent me into another swoon. There, between consciousness and awareness, I so badly wanted to lick it all up; to soil my face and get the anonymous man's discharge all over me; but common sense prevailed. I rubbed my sweatshirt front all over the video monitor and put my sunglasses back on and slowly walked out, savouring the fact that I was acting like a total perv. When arrived home I immediately put on my favorite clip of the moment- a Japanese video of 100+ men and one utterly submissive girl who authentically begged for everything she received. I rested the cummy part of the sweatshirt right over my nose; the anonymous man's moisture rubbed up against my nostrils and his raw, manly smell filled my lungs. Between the odor and skin-contact, the vibrators in my ass and pussy, and the video clip I had the most intense set of orgasms to date; yet after finishing, I felt glumly agitated, as if a war was still raging within myself. I received an email to call Victoria at a set time in order to make final preparations for my initiation. "Are you still trying to figure things out with words, with logic?" Victoria asked, without a greeting. Across the thousands of miles of distance I couldn't hide my inner-feelings from her. "I.. I.. I'm trying.. not to," my response tottered into the phone receiver. "The moment I saw your eyes Veronica I knew you were special. Your eyes move so intently, so brightly, they send chills into me." Victoria revealed, then continued: "The path you are going down, all I can do is chaperon you." Truth Cries from the Semen "I want it to happen Victoria, but I feel so scared of myself. I don't know if I can truly let go when the time comes. I can't stop thinking and analyzing and just exist!" I replied. "You know in your blood and guts you need to let go, yet your try to mastermind your way out of it, dear. Trust my word: we will break you and your heart will be released." Victoria gravely stated. I responded: "I feel so excited sometimes but than so melancholic moments later. I live in a hell of unsatisfied desires. I gnaw on my marrow in this perpetual state of half-belief, half-despair. One moment I make a resolution to once-and-for-all follow through with my plan; then, a moment later, I repent. My whole life has been like this: my mind sees everything with clarity, in perfect relationship, the whole to the parts. Yet my body pulls me in an entirely opposite, contradictory direction. I then know at some level I have deceived myself and I loath myself for it." "You need to set aside the books and the computer and come up out of the underground. You find it so hard to relate to real flesh-and-blood- that of others, that of yourself. You are human, not a machine," Victoria stated. "I don't know if I can!" I sighed back. "Sometimes, and I know this is horrible to say, I enjoy this self-mortification, this sick inner-torture, this disease of too much consciousness!" "Dear, you've got to surrender to humanity, to your humanity, to your body, to your desires. You cannot think your way through it. Stop! Please, Stop! Or, someday, you'll end up in an insane asylum or slashing your wrists!" Victoria stated, almost protesting. "I'm too weak!" I retorted; sad emotions began welling up in me. "No, you are far stronger than you realize, but Veronica you must decide whether you want to live your life like a dead book on a shelf or if you want to really be alive. All the practical information for your event is on the website. I love you so much!" Victoria implored me, almost crying. She hung up. I hung up the phone and masturbated, crying the whole time; my orgasms devoured my own rationality. I made the plane reservations that night. As I approached the club near the appointed time my legs felt like jelly. I stopped about half a street block from the entrance door and sat on a stoop, dejected. I'd prepared my body as instructed, but for the umpteenth time, doubts whirled. This was my last opportunity to change my mind. I could turn around and walk away, forgetting everything. Once I crossed inside, whatever fate awaited me would probably be unavoidable. Did I really want to do this? As I sat I watched the door for several minutes as several club members buzzed the entrance and were quickly ushered in: A male-female couple in their 40s; eight men in their 20s; a man in his 50s; ten men and a woman in their 30s; others followed. Different ages, races, sizes. They were all extremely well-dressed and average or greater in attractiveness. A single woman in her 30s passed me with a smile. She continued to look at me as she pressed the button; the door opened but then she motioned as if excusing herself and then walked back toward me. I tried to act like I hadn't noticed her but it was too late. I stared down at the sidewalk in my funk. She stopped in front of me and squat down. "Welcome," she said. "Veronica?" I icily nodded without looking up at her. The woman put her hands on my right knee. "Dear, we've all been where you are. You have to decide for yourself whether you can go through that door... or not. But you need to honestly ask yourself if you can go back to whatever so-called life you've known and try to forget everything that's brought you to this very spot in space and to this moment in time. Life is one long insane trip. You must decide between fear and love." She then withdrew her hands and walked away. The Sun had just set as I looked up and around. The Moon and Venus shined brightly in the twilight. What would the dawn bring, I thought to myself. Who would I be tomorrow? The day after? There was no way to understand myself anymore; it was futile and pointless to think; words meant nothing in this abject private grief that tore at my heart. A tear rolled down my left cheek. I stood up and composed myself. I walked to the buzzer and pressed it. Henke answered: "Lady Veronica! Follow me at once!" Henke quickly escorted me by the hand through the foyer and into a room off a dimly lit corridor. As I walked down the corridor I could hear the din of people talking and some light music in the background, but it was too fast for me to notice anyone. "You will be attended to momentarily." Henke stated and quickly exited, slamming shut the door. Seconds later, the door of the room opened and Victoria walked in, with one woman on her left and another on her right. They were all naked except for black collars around their necks and blue wristbands on their right wrists. Victoria closed the door. The three women stood in front of the door as I rose and faced them. An awkward distance and silence was kept as the three women stared at me for about 20 seconds. Victoria's face became very sad and her eyes glazed over; she then joyfully smiled. She sniffled and cleared her throat and spoke: "Look at her. I am so envious of what's she's going to experience tonight. Her first time." Victoria said. The two other women smiled in approval. "This is Lydia and this is Gabi" kissing the cheek of one woman and than the other. They were both in their 30s and about 5'5"; Lydia was black and Gabi Hispanic. All the women approached me. Victoria kissed me on the lips as Lydia and Gabi began undressing me. I passively moved to assist them as I returned Victoria kiss with equal passion. I sat down again as the last of my clothes were removed, Lydia spoke: "The blue wristband is very important. It's your sign to the club that tonight you are participating in the cum fetish event all night as a submissive. There will be about 14 of us total and it means that we are open to debauchery by groups of men and women." Gabi continued for Lydia: "After you and Jill are initiated through your event there will be small intersession and then the 12 of us will join you and Jill. There are over 400 men in the ball room and over 100 women. In events like this many women will mingle while others will be down in the dungeons; the men will mingle on both floors and participate within the set rules for a given area." "I don't completely understand." I stated. Gabi smiled and ran her index finger across the back of my shoulders: "It's okay, you will. You will understand." "Do you want to put the wristband on? It's your final act of free choice. By placing the wristband on, you submit to the will of the club tonight." Lydia explained. Gabi extended her left hand with a free blue wristband and set it on the table in front of me. "Where is my partner, Jill; when will I meet her?" I asked. "She's in another room and you will be with her soon, if you decide to put on the wristband." Victoria stated. I picked up the band and looked at it. I then wrapped it around my right wrist, snapping it tight. Victoria grinned and stood up and quickly walked to the door, seeming to motion to someone in the hallway. "Veronica, stand up!" Gabi ordered in a strong tone. As I stood up Lydia moved behind me. She placed a blindfold over my eyes and wrapped it tightly. The two women slowly walked me out the door and then down the hallway, each one holding a hand. As I entered the ballroom I could feel the atmosphere change. The surface of the floor changed to soft mats. The air became hot and moist; I heard almost nothing but breathing and minor shuffling noises as if people were moving out of our way. My spine tingled. We must have stopped around the middle of the room. I felt an umph as a powerful set of hands lifted me up by the armpits on a surface. My arms were raised above my head and my hands cuffed in a soft pair of braces that then snapped and locked. My feet gently rested on this raised surface. I just rested there as bolts of energy scowered up my legs and chest. I had no idea what was about to happen; each second felt like an eternity. I heard more shuffling and then another set of clicking noises- handcuffs- clacked. "What's happening?" I girly voice squeaked. "Silence!" a women's voice I didn't recognize hushed. I heard more shuffling noises and the occasional cough in the distance. A man's voice bellowed: "What is your name, miss?" "Veronica." I answered. Simultaneously I heard: "Jill," Jill answered. Jill was to my left, presumably blindfolded and chained. I heard various small giggles and laughs that quickly trailed off. "Veronica...and... Jill." the man, spoke loudly in a villainous baritone. "Veronica, why are you here?" the man asked. I felt my chest tighten as I thought how to respond to what were hundreds of men and women before me. "To experience my heart's greatest desire." I answered. "Very lovely and melodramatic, Veronica!" the man answered, as if he were judging and pacing the room. "Jill, why are you here?" the man asked. "To have fun! To go crazy!" Jill quipped. "How about crazy fun?" the man laughed backed. "Absolutely!" Jill retorted with fiestiness. More giggles echoed around the room. "Veronica. Veronica, why are you lying to us? To yourself? Heart's desire? Ha. Why don't you tell us why you're really here? Bare your soul and stop hiding! You are naked and bound! The eyes of the world are upon you! Open yourself! Tell us what you really want- you know what's going to happen, don't you? There's no point in holding back! Speak the truth! Say it loud!" the man interrogated for all to hear. My heart felt like it turned upside down and I suddenly felt physically weak, as if my life-force deflated out of a gaping wound. I knew he was right. My flowery language, my brain, was using its power to block the world out, not to see it for what it is. I was hiding from them, from humanity, from myself. The man had dug into my flapping nakedness and pushed me beyond transparency; my spirit felt blacker than black. I wanted to die right there, but I was too weak. Suddenly, the surface under me gave way and I was hanging in the air supported by just my cuffed hands; I could hear sets of chains rustling above me and to my left as I slightly swayed from side to side as my body stretched out like a piece of meat on a hook. My heart dropped a few beats as fear arced through me, springing me back to life. "I want you all to degrade me!" I shock-screamed. "See? Isn't the truth better, Veronica?" the man patronized. "Yes." I whimpered back. "Veronica and Jill. Before you stand hundreds of men and women. They are your masters and mistresses," the man paused and then continued, "there are only two words you need to know. From these words flow everything you truly seek. Love flows from these words. Let yourself be loved!" The man paused and then slowly spoke: "Veronica and Jill you are here to submit and obey." The crowd broke out in a continuous chant: "Submit and Obey! Submit and Obey!" The cacophony pierced and then drilled into me. I felt scared, even terrified; a fresh horror ran through my frame. This was not what I expected. I tried to fight these voices that violently cut into me, into my personhood- to hold onto myself, to hold onto my sanity, to hold onto a tiny morsel of dignity. Yet as the club's loud incantation droned on for what must have been more than a minute, I began to feel enthralled. Every time I fought to maintain my awareness, my center of self, I failed and then a glorious sense of capitulation came over me. My skin began to throb and my breathing grew labored. I could no longer think straight as the voice of the group, of the tribe, speared into my mind. The chanting that at first terrified me became a rhapsody that sent me into a trance. The tribe's riotous power engrossed me; I felt like I was in a twilight zone at that moment where "I" no longer existed, just a nebulous "we." Then, all at once, the chanting ceased. All I could hear was the rustling of chains. I became aware that I was violently trembling; my breath irregularly puffed and wafted out. My bones rattled in my empty shell of skin. I felt numb- not excited, not scared, just numb. Rustling and shuffling noises came forth; air rushed around me in the void. Fingers, hands and lips started touching me and kissing me- everywhere. My pinky toes, my inner thighs, in my mouth, the skin behind my ears, the back of my neck, the tip of my nose- often all of these simultaneously. Twenty, thirty, forty hands laid on me at any one time to only be withdrawn and replaced in new spots by another equally sized set. Literally every "part" of my body, except my crotch, was touched as these tidal waves of touching came forth and then withdrew only to come again. Blood rushed into my organs, my breasts and my clitoris; my veins pulsed; hotness oozed over my entire epidermis as I continued to shiver. My ears began to ring and I felt like I was falling in mid-air; it was as if I were sky-diving; then I was nowhere, I was floating. Those touching and kissing me started whispering randomly: "We love you Veronica." "You are not alone." "You belong to us." An overwhelming sense of love and belonging rend my heart as the touch-waves and whispers shocked through me; I felt so impossibly sad and yet so impossibly happy. I began to weep. I threw my head back as wetness soaked the inside of the blinds and then trailed out across my cheeks. I passed out. As I came to, I could feel wetness dripping from my pussy; saliva drooled down my chin. My body was layered with stagnate finger and hand touches; they just rested there. "Veronica?" I heard a female voice. "Yes.." I eeked out, my breathing still labored. "Can you feel it?" the woman asked. "What? Yes.." I responded in confused delirium. My legs were pulled forward and apart and then a tongue licked my crotch. "Tell us you love us," the woman said; I could tell that she was below me. I felt beside myself with horniness. "I love you.. I want to submit and obey!" I readily shouted. I believed every word I said with every fiber of my being. All the fingers and hands covering my body began gyrating my skin, sending me into another tizzy. The woman's tongue dove into my box and she ate me out; my entire skin layer convulsed as the group now tugged and twirled it in scores of tiny spots. The blindfold was untied and fell off. The naked world revealed itself: dozens of men and women surrounded me in a quagmire of body positions; a monstrous fleshy mass, with hands reaching around at impossible angles. I screamed in orgasm; deep contractions seizured up through my cunt and into my chest. As the tidal wave of rubbing and pussy-eating continued, bliss overtook me. I heard Jill, only a few feet from me, cry out an incomprehensible mixture of curses and exhortations. My feet brushed against the floor into a small pool of my own juices. I again passed out. In some half-aware, half-dream state I felt myself unhinged from the shackles and my body laid out across the floor of mattresses. A warm body was then laid on top of mine. As my energy returned I opened my eyes and saw "Jill", dazed as well, looking down at me. She kissed my lips and I reached up and brushed her hair back with my right hand. "Veronica?" Jill said. "Jill?" I responded. I kissed her on the lips and ran my hands across the length of her back. "Veronica and Jill stand up." the man with the professor's voice ordered. Jill and I stood up and looked around. We were in the middle of the ballroom. Mats covered the whole floor. The club group members formed a box around us, but at some distance; a good thirty feet separated us from them. As I looked around, I came to realize that there were an enormous number of people around, all of them naked, saving minor affectations. About four men for every one woman. All these eyes gawked and gazed at Jill and I. I felt a shock of fear for a split second and I grabbed Jill's arm for comfort; she returned the sense to me. I looked at the endless number of men- their penises, many erect. All different races and ages; but everyone was trim and generally attractive. As I stared at different individuals they ardently smiled. Lydia and Gabi walked toward us. Lydia took me by the arm while Gabi handled Jill. They walked us forward into the crowd, which parted at the edge of the mats revealing a windowless booth with a door. The door had several large locks which were slowly released by Lydia. As I stood there and waited I looked at the crowd; several men stood very close to me. I stared down at their cocks; one man had an enormous penis, probably 11" in length and 7" in diameter. I just couldn't believe how large it was. The booth door opened, unveiling a tiny dimly-lit space. Jill was positioned by Lydia and Gabi and entered sidewise into the booth. Then they grabbed me and quickly pushed me sideways into the booth. I hobbled in, barely squeezing inside. My body rubbed against that of Jill, and this was the first time I actually got a good look at her. Jill is about 5'4" tall, buxom, with large breasts. She is in her mid 20s, white, with long blonde hair. Lydia began to close the door when Jill piped up with a small sense of alarm: "What now?" Lydia stopped and reached in with her right hand and grabbed Jill's chin and placed her them in her mouth; with a stern look flatly she stated: "Obey, cumslave." And then slammed the door. Each lock on the door thwacked shut. Jill's breasts pushed up under mine. It was impossible for us not to touch each other; we could feel each other's breathing. "There are so many of them Veronica! They're going to sacrifice us! We're really going to be drown!" Jill stated in a mixture of concern and excitement. The reality of what Jill said struck me: this is real, it's going to happen. There was no escape and no turning back; it was just a matter of time now. I felt avidly keen on what was now fated to happen, and yet somehow still fretful. "Jill, all we have is each other. We have to be strong together, to stay together, to help each other," I explained. What had I gotten myself into? "Sacrifice" was probably the right word Jill had chosen. I sighed as my thoughts meandered for a moment. I imagined myself and Jill in a sex and blood ritual in an ancient temple. Certainly what was happening was a modern version of this practice. Instead of blood, semen allured. In the place of blood, the tribe would consecrate us in their manly ejaculations. What was it our ancient ancestors got from their rituals? What would Jill and I and the club experience from the body-fluid soaked ritual to come? For a moment I suddenly felt many doubts and self-disgust. "The club will use us for its pleasure and then we'll be submerged in their seminal fluids. Whatever doubts we have are useless. Running away is not possible," I stated. I could feel a flash and tremble shoot through Jill. "We are doomed," I ended. "I'll be there for you; I'll take your fluids if it's too much." Jill said. "I want your fluids; whatever you give, I'll receive." I replied. I managed to move my hands up in the booth and I placed them on her shoulders. Then I kissed Jill; she returned my kisses. "I promise, no matter what happens, I'll be there at the very end." I told Jill. This woman, Jill, was a stranger to me but I felt consoled that we were together. The door locks began to strike apart. "This might be it, Jill." I said "Maybe! Stay close!" Jill exclaimed. The door of the booth opened and a woman I hadn't seen before stood at the entrance. "Close your eyes, sluts of Babylon." she ordered.