Chrystal Chalice Ep. 01

"Sorry, ma'am, we're filming, you can't go in there," a skinny looking nerd with glasses, dressed like a high school student confronted me. He fiddled with his cell phone while he spoke. I waited for eye contact. It took a few seconds for the real world to sink in. "Uh what?"

"Ever had your ass kicked, kid?" I asked him calmly.

"Wait what?" The stereotypic wanna be cool guy stuttered.

"Get the fuck out of my way before I beat your ass and call your mom," I quipped.

"Geezus, kid, back to the projection room," Tacky said as he peered in from the front door. The fruitcake sauntered off still play with his phone. "Sorry, Ms. Chalice. Please go in."

"Thanks," I said and nodded to the hulk, he seemed to have acquired a manner or two.

Inside the theater, the lights were dim as expected, and the stage was illuminated with a dark gothic setting. A few photographers, a camera crew and tony were huddled just below the stage. I figured this was his production, as he seemed to be directing everything. He glanced over his shoulder and saw me at the entrance up the main aisle. His face lit up with a big grin.

On stage, the subdued lighting, with a spectral array of white and red hues, and a few flickering purple candles, illuminated two women outfitted in shiny black latex attire. Buxom, scantily clad and towering in stiletto heels, the pair hovered menacingly over their prey. Each appearing as a stern dominatrix, one stood behind a shaved head naked man, while the other stood in front at his face. Their huge breasts spilled proudly over the top of snugly buckled corsets. Expertly, each made sure their strap-on was firmly in place.

Waiting anxiously, nude from head to toe, the muscular male participant was bent over a navy-blue leather padded bench. Head shaved and shiny, he wore a black mask that covered his face and gave him a darkly ominous look. With arms stretched out, his wrists and ankles were secured by Velcro bindings. He twisted a little in a slight feign of resistance. His penis and balls giggled below his pelvis, and it seemed from my vantage, they were of good size.

Below his ass, his legs were spread and tied to the supporting posts of the training bench. Meanwhile, the two women were ready for action, as each stroked lubricant up and down the stiff black rubber penis of their strap-on belt. Nakedly exposed with large brown areola and pointed nipples, huge firm breasts jiggled as they prepared their onslaught. Their prey squirmed a little, seeing and sensing what was coming. At which point, the action was about to began.

"Ready, quiet on the set, lights, camera, action," a wiry director said.

"Slave, bitch, slut," the dom behind the man said sternly. "We're gonna fuck you silly, you little worthless whore bitch." She slapped his nicely shaped ass a couple times. "I know you want by big black cock. It's going right up your girly little ass, baby."

"You want this big black cock in your ass, don't you, bitch," her sister said gruffly. "Slave boy, you're gonna get spit roasted by the twins, right here and now, baby cakes."

"Wow," I said with a perfectly formed 'O' on my lips. A tingling sensation touch off a delicious vibration between my legs when I heard them. "Damn, I like it."

"Hey, Crystal, what'da ya know, hot stuff," Tony greeted with his fake New York City style deflection and chomped his imported Cuban cigar. "Looking good, kid."

"What the fuck? Cut, hold that scene. Mr. Tony, please, we're set to go with this scene," the director said. He waved his hand frantically at the three on the stage. "Okay, standby."

"W-T-F, geek, 'hot that scene', really?" One of the Doms on stage groaned, "You want me to hold my dick in his ass, or hold onto to his dick until you're ready to film this?"

"Sarcasm noted," the lanky director replied instantly and laughed goofily.

"Fuck you," Tony responded casually. "Give a minute or two over here," Tony added and looked back to me, grinned and nodded. "Ms. Chrystal, you gorgeous cop dick, I mean gumshoe, you know, my favorite private detective. Glad to see ya. Come on down here, have a seat, watch this take and then, whatever I can do for you, you name it."

"Thanks, Tony, don't mind if I do," I answered politely and took a seat. My dark side just woke up. I could feel the tingle. "Kinda brings back memories of some parties we used to attend a long time ago. You know the place, the old haunted mansion, the Drago Castle."

"Oh yeah, those were days." He seemed to pause for a moment, nearly stuttered at the mention, as if he recalled either the wild debauchery, or something else. That's the interesting part. You go with the gut and analyze that something else part. Then, he caught himself. "Yeah, sure, we'll talk. Okay," Tony called to the director, who nervously fretted, paced back and forth and glanced at his watch. "What the fuck is with this guy?" Tony shrugged. "Alright already. I know time is money, it's my money. Let's do this shot. Cameras ready? Ladies?"

"Tony, my love," one of the Dom's said. "I'm ready to fuck this guy. And, he's ready to be fucked. We're greased and waiting to please. So, Mr. Director..."

"Ah, the Dom twins," I noted quietly and took a seat behind the main camera. Those two hot babes had a good rep in the BDSM community. They had respect and they knew how to play the game. When both nodded in my direction, I nodded back. "Ladies," I mouthed quietly.

"Yeah, you know these two, up the road there," Tony said with a pointing gesture.

"Uh huh, sure do, they've done some shows on Halloween at the old Drago castle," I admitted, made the inference again, and recalled some of the entertainment that went on there. Not to mention of course, I had a novice's interest in the lifestyle. I even spent some time studying the work of these two. "They're professionals," I murmured.

"Alright, quiet on the set," the geeky looking director called out. "Camera, action, ladies go for it and make this scene count. We need steady action for about five minutes."

"Gotcha, Slim," the front Dom said. Her raven short chopped spikey hair matched her sister at the other end. She looked at her sub and with a deep gravel-like tone, mimicked an English accent, "Slut, sissy boy, are ready to be spit roasted by the best fucking of your life?"

"Yes, Mistress," the sub groaned and shuttered as the other one spanked his naked ass. The slap on his ass cheeks stirred me a little more. "Please, Mistress, spank me, fuck me."

"Whew," I breathed out a sigh and a whisper. My inner dominant began to focus.

Watching and fantasizing, intuitively, I sank into the sensual realm of altered senses. Not just the usual Monday through Friday, eight to five conformist bullshit, but much more stimulating. That special energy of sexuality that makes you feel alive. It was not so much the action, but the words that whipped my senses deeper into the thrill of the experience. Sexuality is the primal core of life and the essential meaning of existence. I was approaching the edge.

With that, the action began. A roving camerawoman eased up on the stage to capture the action up close. Short cropped red hair, she was freckled faced wholesome sexy. Most likely, she as a local college student working on a fine arts project. I imagined she had a puffy pubis with a well-trimmed red bush between her legs. Clad in a red tee shirt, braless, her ample breasts giggled as she maneuvered the camera to different angles.

For a moment, the camerawoman bent over to get a close-up of the sub's bound penis. A gold cock ring squeezed him below his balls, as a slow erection began to swell. Wearing brown hiking boots, her blue jean cutoffs were so short and tight, I could quickly tell she was shaved smooth around the creases, and wore no panties. I was right about her pubic mound. Thick and fleshy, the stretch of her pubis in the shorts gave me a quick thrill.

"Sissy slut boy," the front Dom commanded. "Suck on my dick, little whore." She thrust forward and he willing sucked her. "That's a good boy, my little bitch."

"Yeah, you pussy," the rear Dom continued. "You want my cock in your ass?" She spanked him, the slaps echoed through the theater. "Tell me, whore boy, you want his cock."

"Yes, mistress, please fuck me, fuck me hard with your cock," the boy toy stuttered and choked, as he released his lips from the strap-on dick. "I need to be fucked, mistress."

I could feel myself getting wet. Regardless, the voice sounded familiar, but I couldn't quite make out who it was. That wasn't important. With a black leather hood covering his face, the sub's facial features were hidden. Meanwhile, behind him, the rear Dom stroked her huge fake penis. Up and down, she jacked the big dick with lubricant. Satisfied she was sufficiently slick and shiny, the moved closer to his butt cheeks. Carefully, she examined him.

"Look at your mangina," the dom giggled. "You're begging for this, you whore." She whipped his ass with a few flogs from her black and red whip. "Like that, huh, you like that, you want this big black cock in and deep in your sissy ass, don't you slut?"

"Oh yeah, he does want us to fuck him like a whore," the other chimed in. "Fuck him, mistress," she continued to taunt. "This bitch wants it bad. Fuck him."

By now, I was getting hard, the tip was swelling and I could feel the warm wetness seeping through my little pink thong. With my fleshy ass slowly rubbing the theater seat, I figured I could finger myself right here and no one would notice. Yummy, my inner juices warmed me so quickly and inspired my focus on the action taking place on the stage. Drawing in a long breath, keeping myself focused, I scanned the group down front.

Could there be possible suspects present, in the disappearance of Chucky? You never know, as to me, everyone is a suspect for something. People try to fool you all the time with their pretentious bullshit. Inside their little brains, it's all smoke and mirrors. Behind the arrogance of the face you see, there is evil than runs deep to the nexus of willful debauchery.

"Let's fuck our bitch," the dom in the rear replied. By day, she runs a successful laundry business. All the cops get their uniforms and suits done at her place. She has unique skills. "There you go, take it, sissy, you like it." With that, she slowly pressed the head of the penis, slippery and glossy into his anus. He bucked slightly, as she went in deeper. "Whoa, where you going, my bitch, keep that ass up, nice and easy, yeah, gonna fuck your ass."

"Please, mistress, fuck my ass," the sub said to her. "Thank you, mistresses..."

Yep, he groaned at the initial contact. Slowly, the greased rectal intrusion began. The spreading awakened carnal energies stirred the gasp of far reaching expectations. This is where reality cascades through the deceptive veneer of haughty pretenses and boastful ignorance. Seems to me it is only appropriate that every man get in touch with his inner whore. From head to toe, the slave boy, the bitch-man, sucked while being reamed from the rear. For a moment, the dom in his butt, reached underneath him and jacked his bulging penis. Like a thick iron rod, the sub's huge dick was a handful for the masterful mistress who pumped him.

With the fucking action going full bore, the two doms fucked him front and back without mercy. Jeering, cursing and thrusting, the mistresses filled him lip smacking and butt slapping intensity. After a few minutes of deep penetrating pegging, with good sucking, fucking and jacking action, the sub came hard with a torrent of spurting cum that shot down into a silver goblet. At the same time, camerawoman got in closer. She contorted as if a pro to capture the action, from a distance and with close ups to make sure the viewer got an eye full. And filled it was. He came with successive bursts of milky streams into the cup below.

"Wow, nicely done, guys, cut!" The director called out. "Or, cum!" He joked nervously in the anxious strain of his geekiness. "Tony, what'da ya think?"

"Not bad," Tony muttered as he chomped his cigar. "Break time. Fuck if you need to, but make sure you clean it up. Okay, relax everyone and keep it stiff. You three," Tony added, pointing to the actors, "have fun, keep at it. Hey, Chrystal, what's new?" At that moment, he headed for me, and lumbered up the center incline of the theater. "Yo, Chrissy..."

For the next few seconds, I was preoccupied with that the spit roasting on stage. Their stamina was impressive, and I wouldn't have minded nailing that sub too. In the brief interlude that followed, I continued to watch the stage action. Geezus, I was horny. The visual was steamy and stimulating. Taking in a few deep breaths, I caught the sight of a familiar face.

Kitty was down front in one of the seats. She looked back and gave a hot grin, followed by a lick of her lips with that long tongue of hers. Pulling in a long inhale, I thought I'd cum sitting there, letting my butt squirm excitedly in the seat, legs spread wide, and rubbing my pubis against the cushion. Oh fuck that felt good. And, even though the cameras had stopped rolling, the scene continued a few minutes longer, while my favorite doms finished off their sub with passionate fury. Both were panting and ready to cum. The timing was perfect.

"Hey, Chrissy, wanna join in on the stage," Kitty said with a hint of prowl in her tone.

"No thanks, I'm doing just fine from here," I answered with a raspy slant about ready to cum in my thong. The action continued down front. "Wow, intensely erotic."

In my mind, the mental picture was thrilling. Around the sub's impalement front and back, a couple members of the crew took pictures and watched the incessant fucking. The sub's huge penis dangled between his legs and slowly softened. He was gifted with a bulbous penis head, a long shaft and a big set of balls. Dripping with the remnants of fresh cum, he took the pounding like a good slave. Having spewed his big cum load in the silver chalice below his ass, the rear dom continued to milk him, jacking and fucking him wildly.

"Look at this, nice slut boy, you fucking whore," the dom in his ass teased. "That a boy, your huge man clit is gushing," she added. "There we go, steady, fuck and pump, yep, gonna drain those balls of every drop." She hammered and jacked him without mercy.

"Oh, fuck me, mistress, fuck me," he screamed. "I'm gonna cum again."

"Yeah, you fucking cunt, I'm drilling that mangina," she groaned and hunched over him. Slickly lubed and shiny, the black gloved hand that pumped his cock squeezed every drop of ooze out of him. "Give it to me bitch, cum like the boy whore you are."

"That's it, cunt, suck it," the dom in front demanded.

"Geezus, this is some of the best action during the break," Tony mumbled.

"Aw fuck them, couple assholes," the director droned sarcastically.

As I was enjoying the side show during the interval, with my personal mind fuck, and out of the corner of one eye, I saw a blur of motion. For a second, the time it takes to realize it is more than an illusion, something in black appeared, like a ninja you see in movies. Was this part of the rehearsal during the intermission? With surreal slow motion, my thoughts pondered the unfolding action as though it might be a prank. Or, maybe part of the act, a prelude to the next scene coming up. Then again, why would a ninja have a gun?

A stage prop? Doesn't seem to fit the script. Then again, who knows with this crew? Above the red curtains, the lighting reflected off the pistol. No, revolver, not a pistol that's a different type of firearm. Such is the common error the public sometimes makes, except the seasoned observer who would speculate otherwise? But, I was busy taking in the pegging action. At the same time, the doms were fucking the daylights out of their sub.

"Tony, get the fuck down!" I yelled, realized the danger and reached for my pistol under my coat. My skills shifted to high gear, as I dove through the air. "Tony, duck!"

"What the fuck..." he blurted and gasped as I tackled him.

With protective cover for Tony, sprawled on him like a bodyguard, or, more like riding him cowgirl style, we ducked below the visual range. The loud crack of the gunshot broke the sound waves. Like the snapping motion and whacking reverberation of a Dom's whip, the air sliced explosively. Boom, came the first blast, followed by boom, boom, two more. The initial gunshot whizzed by my ear in our direction and bounced off the metal of a nearby seat. Count them, I thought to myself, three shots, pause after the first, second and third faster.

"Yeah, what the fuck?" I said to him face to face. "Geezus, stay down, Tony."

"A fucking hit?" Tony quizzed. "Somebody after me?" He growled.

"Don't flatter yourself," I advised and held him down.

For seconds, I held him down, pinned to the center aisle of the theater. He huddled under me and began to quiver anxiously. With a pause in the shooting, pistol in hand, I ventured a peek over the seating. When I peered over a nearby seat, with my gun pointed at the stage, people screamed and fled in multiple direction. Panic ensued and the two doms fled the stage, their strap-ons flapped up and down as they scampered for cover. Camerawoman dove to the sub and released his bindings. Regardless a body lay sprawled on the stage under a bright light.

"Geezus, a fucking shooting in my place, what the fuck?" Tony muttered, got up and adjusted his big cigar. To his obedient watch dog, he said, "Tacky, what the hell you been doing, lock this place down, fuck, the cops'll be all over this place." Tony shrugged at his chief minion bodyguard. Tony looked at me with a smile and a hug. "Thank you, Chrystal."

"Fuck you, Tony," I answered with a grin. "You okay?"

"Fuck me anytime, baby, yep I'm good," he said with a big chuckle. "Geezus, Tacky, call 9-1-1 for god's sake, search the compound. What the hell, Chrystal," he wanted to know. He glanced at the stage. "Ah, that guy was an asshole. Need a new director."

"Tony, you're a real bastard," I added and headed down to the stage.

People freaked out and ran in all directions to escape the gunfire. I shook my head, glanced at around the theater and noted the cast of characters shivering and shaking in nooks and crannies. Off to one side, the body lay very still and a smoky essence lingered in the air under the stage lights. Muffled shrieks and cries ghoulishly animated the stillness. Slave boy was still hanging restrained to the rack at the center of the arena and struggled to get free.

"Help me! Goddamnit, someone help me," the hunky bodybuilder screamed.

"Hold your horses, what the fuck, you're fine," Tony yelled. "Ms. Chrystal, you the boss here, right now." He nodded politely to me. "Ex-cop and all, you know..."

"Oh hell, I suppose." I muttered somewhat annoyed by the interruption. "Okay, nobody move, stay where you are, don't touch anything, and don't talk to each other," I warned the gathering of the various human lifeforms and moved cautiously toward the stage. "Anyone hurt?" Nervous mutters indicated the negative. "Cops are on the way."

"No," came a collective chorus of quick responses "No," the sniffles echoed.

"Nothing, Tony," Tacky huffed, out of breath, as he fell back into the theater. "We been all over this place, the parking lot, the roof, everywhere, and nothing."

"Hmm, interesting," I noted standing over the body, knelt and checked for vitals.

"What'da ya mean, Chrystal?" Tony asked from behind me. "A clue?"

"Just thinking out loud," I answered with a low murmur. To the crowd gathering, I ordered, "Get back, I said don't fucking touch anything." I thought for a moment. "Who would shoot your weasel director?" I looked at Tony. "For starters, just take a look around you."