Yes love,you may, but a man dunked in shit will never
have the same impact, in these groups it`s the
female who has to suffer.
I fully agree with you. There must be an emotional bond between the man at the lever and the lady in the pit. And it is the lady that should go down. But beware, anyone who pays can get his lady dunked, and no one asks for a motif. And then, someone could enter the garden with her own agenda.
THE BUSINESS DEMON.
Mrs. Stevens is a businesswoman. She is a gorgeous blonde and busty late thirty something. Mrs. Stevens is ambitious, though, merciless, flamboyant, cunning, impulsive and smart. She’s not afraid to throw all her (female) assets into the battle, when she wants something.
The fortunes of Mrs. Stevens are told by the first-person narrator Philip. He works in Mrs. Stevens’ business. Philip is a Mr. Average in his early thirties. He has a university degree, a wife, kids and a house with garden in a suburb. Normally, his life would be dull and boring. But he is project manager and an assistant of Mrs. Stevens. They understand each other very well, as, technically, they have complementary skills. They are a good team. But all the way, he has to endure Mrs. Stevens’ mood and temper. Sometimes, she rather treats Philip as her sidekick letting him take the heath of her problems.
That day, Mrs. Stevens and Philip were in northern England. They were on the way home from a very successful business meeting, when they made a stop in a small village.
“Philip, Philip!”
“Yes, Mrs. Stevens?”
“Philip! There is something I have to show you! You wouldn’t believe it!”
She brought me to a garden where some ‘adult garden party’ was taking place. Apparently it was an open party and they let us in. What I saw was indeed unbelievable. A crowd of people stood around a pit. Naked women, tied to a post, were dipped into a brown dirty mess. I soon found out what is was : animal shit. The women were plunged into the pit three, four or even five successive times. The lever was pulled by their own husband. Apparently the husbands had even paid to have their wife stripped and dipped. I could not believe how the women, although with reluctance, accepted to be subjected to that. What possessed them? Or was it just a kinky game? Not my game anyway!
I have to admit I found the view of the freshly naked and restrained women arousing, but once they had been in the pit, well, it did nothing to me anymore. In fact I had seen enough, and I wanted to propose Mrs. Stevens to get on our way again. But she was talking to a man, who was clearly one of the organizers.
She came back to me and clearly, she had no intention to drive on yet.
“That man I just talked to, Jim is his name,explained me the psychology of all this. First of all, it is not intended as a punishment. Otherwise the husband should not have to pay. After all it is the money he has worked hard for. She is dunked in the shit, but not for free. That keeps things in balance. Do not frown upon it, Philip, these are the traditional marital values that are still upheld in this region. And I know what you are thinking about me and traditional marital values, but that does not mean I have no respect for other people’s choices. You see, Philip, this ritual involves two people with an profound emotional relationship. Most of the couples cannot wait to have sex after the wife is cleaned and they even do it behind that shed. It must be a local fertility ritual or something like that!”
Meanwhile she kept watching the spectacle.
“Philip?”
“Yes, Mrs. Stevens?”
“Have you ever seen me in the shit?”
“I recall the three times our company almost went broke, Mrs. Stevens.”
“Philip, what do you think about our recent business deal?”
“It’s a very good deal, Mrs. Stevens!”
“I think so! On one condition, Philip, that everything happens as planned, as agreed and as promised! It is a good deal but not a hundred percent safe one. Yes, we took a calculated risk, to my opinion, meaning there still is a little chance to a big loss! Bigger than the company can afford!”
“Yes, Mrs. Stevens?”
“You know, Philip, I desperately want this deal to succeed. It should make us a lot of money, and could give us a strong bridgehead in the UK.”
“Yes, Mrs. Stevens.”
“I sometimes had the feeling, Philip, and I still have, that the deal was too good to be true. That worries me a little. Therefore, Philip, I want to take all precautions. I want nothing to leave to bad luck. I want to get rid of that worry.?”
“Yes, Mrs. Stevens?”
“You see that man Jim there, Philip? He runs it here. Husbands pay him twenty pounds per dip for their wives, with a minimum of three. The money goes to charity. Just tell me Philip, how much would you pay Jim for having me dipped into that shit?”
“But Mrs. Stevens, what are you going to…?”
“A little sacrifice, Philip. For the sake of the company. Generally, I am not superstitious, but this deal is important to me. I let myself dip in that pit as a sacrifice to the gods of commerce, to show my humility, for the sake of the success of our deal. Do not try to convince me not to do it, Philip, I made up my mind already! I am going to chase that demon out of my head!”
“But, naked? In front of all those people?”
“Yes Philip. These are expensive clothes, which I love to wear, and I do not want to lose my jewels in that pit. And I just consider presenting my nudity to the crowd as part of the sacrifice. Through the eyes of these people, the gods will see my humility. So, how much would you pay?”
“Sixty pounds, Mrs. Stevens.”
“Don’t be stingy, Philip!”
“Hundred pounds then, Mrs. Stevens.”
“Now you’re talking! Just this. It will not be possible for you to declare it as costs. But what you pay here, I will commute into a share in my company. Agreed?”
“Yes, Mrs. Stevens.”
I paid Jim hundred pounds. Then Jim accompanied her to the shed. I saw her going, on her high heels, with her short burgundy skirt, lining her impressive hips, her white blouse. Mrs. Stevens as always: determined, all pride, style and self-confidence, as if she was going to yet another business meeting. I could hardly believe she was on her way to have herself dipped five times into a pit of shit? Naked? In public?
About fifteen minutes later she reappeared, under applause and cheering of the onlookers. There was my boss. Naked, tied to a pole at her waste, her armpits and her ankles, her hands tied at the back of the pole. The pole was inserted into the plunging device. She looked gorgeous. And her restrained position made her even more look vulnerable. I wished I could…
“Philip, where are you? You have to pull the lever!?”
Me? Oh yes, I was the one who had paid for it. These were the rules.
I stepped to the plunger (I tried to resist the terrible stench hanging around). I could not keep my eyes of her. I still could not believe what was happening.
“Come on, Philip? I hope this is not the first time you see a naked woman?” Her voice still sounded determined.
“No, Mrs. Stevens.”
Jim explained me how the plunger worked. Mrs. Stevens stood meanwhile stoically staring at the brown stinking mire in front of her.
“Are you sure, Mrs. Stevens?”
“I am ready, Philip.”
I still hesitated.
“Do it now!”
She stared to heaven for a moment. Invoking gods she actually did not believe in! Then I pulled the lever. She fell forward, shrieking. Then a dull ‘splash’. For a moment she floated, her face already under, but her blonde curly hair and her bare backside still rising above the shit. Then she slowly sank, with a bubbling sound, head first, then her back, her legs and finally her buttocks. All I saw were her shackled feet, writhing. On the signal of Jim, I pulled her up (I wondered if they had a contingency plan if it would not work? Would someone have to jump into the pit?).
First, the brown mire bulged up. Then her contours reappeared. Finally she was out. Mrs. Stevens, entirely covered with stinking brown stuff dripping from her. It was in her hair, in her face. She was shaking her head, she roared. She kept roaring and shaking her head until her eyes were more or less free.
“Number two! Now!” she ordered. She still roared when she fell forward again. Splash! This time, she sank immediately. I noticed her feet writhing again.
Second time up! I saw her buttocks reappear, writhing, like her legs. Her tied hands were writhing, and her shoulders. All her body was writhing. She came out head last. She hang forward, brown fluid dripping from her breasts.
“Oh God! Oh God!”
Splash! Third time down. Each time, she disappeared completely apart from her writhing feet. I wondered what she went through down there. I couldn’t imagine anything else than a claustrophobic nightmare, darkness, silence, and all that terrible stinking fluid pressing to enter all cavities in the head and tormenting all senses. I imagined how these writhing feet were just the visible part of the intensely writhing naked body of Mrs. Stevens, down there, under that brown stinky surface. Restrained! Helpless! Vulnerable! A writhing and struggling by irrational fear, perhaps deadly fear in her head. Fear of really drowning! My imagination turned me on…
I almost forgot I was supposed to pull the lever. When she came out she was literally clogged with brown slime. She gasped for breath. She screamed of fear.
“Terrible” she shouted, when the pole was up, spitting the shit out of her mouth and nose.
With an unearthly scream she fell back. Splash! I decided not to keep her suffering too long. Just long enough to see her feet start writhing again. These writhing feet at the end of her writhing body. Let me point out that I did not felt excited because I had her life in my hands. Absolutely not! It was not about life or death at all. It was essential that she would come out alive and live on with the experience. It was rather…she conveyed somehow her helplessness on me. Lever up!
“Aaaargh!”
She looked at me with a terrified face, as she wanted to beg me to stop. But she did not say the words.
“Last time, Mrs. Stevens!”
“Nooooo!” Splash!
Finally is was over. A delirious Mrs. Stevens was brought back to the shed. Soon, another woman was brought out to be subjected to her terrifying ordeal.
I did not want to stay there anymore. I decided to look after Mrs. Stevens. When I found her, she was already clean, but still naked. In fact, she had a good time, as she had herself being taken by that Jim.
“I’ll be there soon, Philip!”
“Yes, Mrs. Stevens.”
When she came back, it was unbelievable. She looked again impeccable as usual. No one would believe she had been dipped into a shit pit five times, no longer than half an hour ago. And she looked very satisfied. I hoped we would leave now, as she had pleased the gods with here sacrifice, but still, she showed no intentions to leave.
“You looked so jealous, Philip, when you saw me with Jim? I needed some recovery, you know. I feel fine now, purified. I did my part, the gods of commerce will do theirs.”
“Really?”
“It was awful indeed, it is pitch dark below the surface. Scaringly silent! That filthy engulfing stuff. It felt like drowning from the first second. I wanted to get out, but I was restrained and that pole kept pushing me deeper and deeper. I struggled to get free, but it did not help. I thought I would never come out again. Terrifying! But on the other hand, strange enough, it gave a feeling of…security, protection, warmth. Even excitement! Yes, excitement!”
“It is a pit full of chemical reactions. They release heat. And the produce gases that probably had an intoxicating effect on you.”
“You could be right. But I have to ask you something : don’t tell anything about this at the office. I insist you won’t !”
“No, Mrs. Stevens, you can trust me.”
“Philip, I know I can trust you about that, I mean, you as my employee. But you are a shareholder too now. I trust you as an employee, Philip, but not as a shareholder. It is not personal, but a basic principle of mine. I want to be sure you will tell nothing at the office! Furthermore, you own a little part of the company now. Shouldn’t you do a little sacrifice too, to please the gods, for the success of our deal and for the sake of our company? "
“But Mrs. Stevens…? I thought you said this was a ritual in which dipping a male made no sense? Only the women have to suffer?”
“I told you about the psychology of this ritual, Philip. It is about two emotionally involved people, man and woman. Within the erotic context of this, it would make no sense to dip the husband, hence he would pay and get the shit all together. That would disrupt the delicate emotional balance of their relationship!
But, Philip, that does not mean that the husbands are not ignorant about the moral aspects of the fact that only the women are dipped. Money cannot always keep their conscience clean. These feelings could again threaten the delicate emotional balance. Do you understand? So, in order to maintain the balance, to avoid the perception of this ritual as a misogynist event, they dip from time to time a man, on the condition that he has no emotional involvement with one of the women. And not only for the emotional balance but also just for the kinky fun! Do you understand, Philip? And do not worry this time about the payment, Philip, I already did, in kind, with Jim, as you just noticed. Hey! Jim! He is here!”
Before I could say anything else, Jim gently pushed me towards the shed.
“SH****T!”
(the end)
