Bianca‘s Messy Awakening: Chapters 4+5.

As a warning the 5 parts of this series form 1 long novel like story, rather than a serial with recurring characters. This is only the second section so you’ve not missed too much, but if you continue on you may find there may be a little confusion about some of the location and characters as a result of not having read the first part.
This upcoming section is the one that saw the most changes over the course of writing it. To start with the idea I had down to experiment with a gunge tank was much shorter. As I developed more ideas for both the WAM scenario, and got to know the characters in the scene a lot better, to the point I found I disagreed with them on some things (I still say The Eagles are better) it expanded quite a lot to the point where it became a major scene in it’s own right, and another scene took the place of the original gunge tank one.
The biggest change though was there was originally another major scene between chapter 5 and 6 when it was just a list of messy scenarios. It resulted when the then unnamed Bianca agrees to an additional night time session on top of what she’s already done, and was a more physically explicit encounter than the day time sessions. I dropped it because it didn’t fit with the Westbrook Manor location I created, and as the plot fell in to place I realised Bianca agreeing to this would make her a much less sympathetic character in future chapters.

Chapter 4:

It’s a far from typical day when I find myself sitting above a pool of green slime, reduced to a hysterical fit of giggling. How did I end up here? I think a recap is necessary. Due to reasons I won’t repeat I’m currently volunteered as a slave at a wet and messy event at Westbrook Manor. Don’t worry it’s not as kinky as it sounds. Well most of the time. What that means is unlike other attendees who get to choose from a range of activities available based on what package they paid for, I get to attend for free, but have all my activities assigned to me in order to make up numbers, ensure some activities always run, and attend one on one sessions with those who have that option available.
This mourning I’d attended a one on one with a man with the avatar Bad Attitude, which I won’t describe in depth a second time, and after a shower and change of cloths I’d attended my second mourning session on the Manor’s main lawn. I was making up the numbers in the Pie-land games. A series of different messy contests taking part over the 2 days. In my case I had fun taking part in a number of pie fights over the hour when the all girls pie fight league took place. Before anyone says sexist and degrading they hold an all boys league on day 2, and a mixed gender league takes place each day, so everyone is treated equally.
After that I was given some time to order some lunch from services, during which a new pal I’d met earlier called Dead Ringer popped around with one of her other Slave friends to join me over lunch time TV. I did ask what she was doing away from her quarters, but she told me they’re more lenient with established slaves as long as they don’t wander off around the resort and are in their rooms on time for their activities.

I was initially disappointed when I found out I was going in a dunk tank in the afternoon, as I’m not really into the wet look side of things, but upon seeing what I’d been assigned I quickly changed my mind. In front of me, through a large crowd of people I could see 3 carnival style dunk tanks, each one consisting of a chicken wire cage, and a target linked to a platform over a large tub. One tank appeared to be given over to a constant stream of people who wanted to try it just the once. The other 2 housed more permanent victims like myself, who were down to continuously sit in the tank being repeatedly dunked over 30 minutes. What got my attention though was the contents of the tubs. Instead of the expected water the tubs were filled with brightly coloured green slime. I felt a nervous wave of anticipation at the idea I was going to be dunked in that.

5 minutes later and I was sitting above the slime, the fact I was sitting above it and had seen the state of some other people who’d been dunked would have got me smiling. The tension I felt every time someone threw a ball at target that would dunk me had pushed me over the edge into an uncontrolled fit of giggling as I closed my eyes, unable to look, until finally there was a metallic clang, and a cheer from the crowd.
I plunged down and was hit by the shock of being completely engulfed in the cool slime. I stuck my head above the slime and gasped in shock. I heard a cheer and round of applause from as I stood up and wiped the slime from my eyes. I held on to the side of the tank and laughed as I stood there completely covered in the thick green slime. I was there a couple of minutes as the seat I was sitting on was reset, at which point I had to climb up the ladder on the side of the tank to sit on the ledge again. There I sat with green slime clinging to every inch of my body, giggling nervously as I waited my next submerging.

I was a little disappointed when Rebecca returned. By that time I’d received multiple dunkings, so some of the nervous tension had worn off, and I was enjoying both the sensation of being completely covered in slime, and the attention and admiration I was getting from the crowd of spectators. This wasn’t something I’d thought about when I signed up as a slave, but after years of keeping my love of messy fun a secret to be able to open up and share banter with other people was liberating.
“Are you OK?” Rebecca asked. “I’m sorry I’m late. One of the other newbies wasn’t ready to go when she was supposed to.”
“It’s OK, I checked she was OK to continue after the 30 minute mark.”
The first reply their was from the operator of the dunk tank. That scream was me after the operator pushed in the target by hand, dunking me in the slime one last time. As Rebecca opened the door to the tank, towel in hand I slowly climbed out, taking the chance to throw a handful of slime at the operator and acknowledging one last round of applause. I wiped my face and hands as Rebecca checked with my replacement, a nervous looking man in his early twenties.
“You are all right?” asked Rebecca. “Not everyone can endure being continuously submerged like that.”
“No, I had fun” I said.
“That’s good to know.” She replied. “Now your out could you do me a favour? We’re close to the manor’s back entrance here, so if I give you your key back you should be able find your own way back to your quarters. That will help me make up some of the time I lost thanks to that other little madam.”
“No problem” I said.
“Thanks, I’ll be up there to pick you up in just under 2 hours.”

Of course I did the responsible thing and headed directly to my room. You believe me right? All right, I wouldn’t have been human if I’d not taken the opportunity to satisfy a little of my curiosity. In my defence I did head back in the direction of my quarters, but I took a slightly longer route that I took my time over.
I had a quick look around the area where the dunk tanks were. They also had a couple of gunge tanks set up, and a number of skips filled with messy substances, both of which had a steady number of volunteers. I also managed to pick up a surprisingly well produced brochure of the event. It told you about a large number of activities taking place over the weekend like mud wrestling contests in the woods, a wet look enthusiast area round the swimming pool and tennis courts, and the archery range where the bows and arrows were replaced by pies and cakes thrown at human targets trapped in stocks or other devices of restraint.
It also gave me a chance to meet some of the people attending. For starters there was what they wore. My nurses costume wasn’t that unusual, with quite a lot of people dressed up in uniforms or as sexy animals or other outlandish costumes. Another big surprise was a lot of people had made an effort to dress up in formal gowns and suits, and seemed to take pleasure in being messed up while dressed like this. What really struck me though was the demographic of the people attending. I had imagined a fetish weekend would be attended by a lot of wild young kids. Turns out it wasn’t like this. Well over two-thirds of the attendees were older than me, I even spotted a few pensioners amongst the crowd. Also the majority of people I talked to were attending with a long term partner, not the wild singletons I’d imagined. I even spotted one heavily pregnant lady watching some of the activities.
All of this did give me pause for thought later, as I was waiting in my room for Rebecca while looking through the brochure. When I first came I thought it would be a one off opportunity that would be fun to attend. Now I was here enjoying myself, and sharing my love of getting messy with others I didn’t want this to be a one off. The trouble is what would I tell my husband Brandon. Do I want risk telling him about this, and hope he won’t mind me continuing to attend, or could I keep coming while continuing to keep the truth from him. Neither option provided an easy answer.

Chapter 5:

I was glad of the distraction when Rebecca came to pick me up, for what I was told would be my last activity of the day. To my surprise we only walked as far as the back door, where there was a land rover waiting to provide us transport.
“While we’re in here I’ll get you ready” Rebecca said. “I’ll be fitting you with leather wrist and ankle cuffs, which will be used to clip you some of the apparatus used. You’re doing one of the higher tier one on one sessions by one of the campfires in the woods where some special apparatus is set up. We have quite a bit of stuff set up in the woods around the manor like the campfires as well as nature trails, and some log cabins guests can book to stay in. We don’t have that much going on during these messy weekends, other than the area dedicated to mud and clay pits close to the manor. In the past some slaves have worried about this, as it feels like their on their own in the woods. I can assure you that not only do we only let trusted attendees participate in such activities, but we will also be monitoring what’s happening at all times. We have CCTV cameras set up especially to keep an eye on things, plus there will always be someone monitoring the situation nearby, ready to step in if there’s any sign of trouble. Do you have any questions?”
“Do you know who this one on one is with?” I asked.
“It’s with a young man called Caramel Mocha. He’s a nice person, a little quieter than what you had this mourning. This is his forth event and we’ve never had any trouble from him, so I don’t foresee you having any problems” she replied.

After about 10 minutes of driving the land rover came to a halt. I was given a torch and told to follow a path in the direction of an orange glow. In a few minutes I’d be at the campfire where Caramel Mocha would be waiting.
It was a slightly awkward walk through the woods, thanks to the fact I was still wearing my heels, but I soon reached the campfire. It was bordered a ring of stones, and had a wooden frame which suspended some sort of canteen above it. Around the fire a number of logs were set up obviously intended to be used as seats. Sitting on one of which was Caramel Mocha. He had short dark hair, and looked in his mid twenties. He wore a navy blue tailored suit with a brightly coloured red shirt.
My real main area of concentration though was set up in the clearing opposite me. There was what looked like a large black plastic bin. Next to that though was a structure consisting of 4 tall pillars, supporting a large tank. A number of chains were hanging down from it. What really gave me pause for thought was the contents of the tank. It looked like a thick lumpy liquid, coloured a dirty grey colour. I think Caramel Mocha could see a nervous look on my face.
“Is there something wrong?” He asked.
“What is that stuff?” I asked.
“It’s clay based mud” he replied. “Do you not like that stuff?”
“When I saw mud on the application form I assumed it meant wrestling or rolling around in it, not having an unusual substance dumped on me” I nervously replied.
“Do you want a look at some of it? There’s more of it in that plastic bin over there” he said.
He took me by the arm over to the black bin. In it was a plastic jug floating in more of the grey liquid. I nervously dipped my hand in. It was viscous liquid, that left a thin layer clinging to my hand as I lifted it out. I was reassured to find it wasn’t unpleasant in either smell or touch.
“Do you think you’ll be OK?” asked Caramel Mocha. “I’ll start by pouring some on your body, then I’ll do your hair and the gunge tank if you still feel comfortable”
I took one last look at the gunge tank and nodded my head. I stood in the middle of the 4 pillars and held out my wrists to my side as they were clipped to the chains above my head. I looked up nervously. Above me I could see one large trap door directly above me, and 2 smaller trap doors to the side that I was now trapped under as my ankles were clipped to some chains attached to the pillars.
I looked on in anticipation as he unzipped the front of my uniform and filled the plastic jug with mud. I closed my eyes and pulled on my wrist restraints, bracing myself as he poured the first jug over my stomach. I let a smile of both relief and pleasure come across my face as I felt it running down my body. For the next jug he started higher up, pouring the mud across my chest, causing it to seep down into my bra, which I couldn’t help but smile at.
For the next jug he walked around behind me. At first I thought he was going to pour some on my head, but instead he pulled the collar of my dress back and slowly poured the mud down the back of my uniform. I found myself quietly laughing, finding the sensation of being chained up while having mess poured on me a highly pleasurable combination.
We exchanged looks of glee as he filled up the next jug. I saw him look down, and this time he pulled the top of one of my stockings and poured mud into them. This resulted in them bulging with mud. Not wishing to leave an unmatched combo the next jug was used to fill up my other stocking.
“Do you want some in your knickers?” he asked.
A guilty smile found it’s way on to my face.
“Only if you promise not to look” I replied.
Coming forward he averted his eyes upwards as he pulled on the elastic and poured the mud in. I had opted for full classic knickers, which meant there was a lot to fill, but there was more than enough liquid to create the sensation of mud sloshing around in them. It quickly seeped down, and let out a small yelp as I felt the cold liquid engulf my crutch.
“Are you ready for some over your head now?” he asked.
“I’m ready” I smiled.
I tilted my head forward slightly as he came over and poured the first jug over my head. I once again pulled on the chains as he continued to pour jug after jug over my head for the next minute or so. I closed my eyes, clenched my fists and involuntarily pulled against the restraints as I felt a strong wave of pleasure come across my body.
At this point he stepped back admiring his handiwork, while I regained my composure and caught my breath. My hair had now been saturated with mud that was now dripping down my back. The only cleanish part was my face, although I could still feel some splashes and droplets falling across it from my hair.

“Are you ready for your big finale?” he asked.
I nodded as he reached up and brought down a series of ropes I’d not noticed before. It wasn’t difficult to work out they were what opened the trap doors. I closed my eyes and looked down, and waited tensely. I heard a clunk. I was then hit by a deluge of mud, falling down on every part of me, as well as in front and behind of me. I grimaced for 4 or 5 seconds as the deluge continued to hit me, before slowing down to a trickle. This wasn’t the end though as I heard the clunk of the 2 small trapdoors opening. This revealed their contents of a large amount of flour, that fell on me coating the mud in white powder. I stood there laughing, absolutely soaked through by the deluge of mud.
“You look like your enjoying yourself there” Caramel Mocha observed.
I nodded, enjoying the combination of being tied up and covered in mess, not for the first time today.
“I’ll leave you there to enjoy yourself a little longer shall I” he suggested.

It was about 15 minutes later, and I was sat by the campfire with a blanket around me, holding a hot chocolate made with water from the canteen. Caramel Mocha was sitting on the log next to mine.
“So that was really your first time getting muddy?” he asked.
“And my first time under a gunge tank. Today is my first day at one of these events” I replied.
“You weren’t even at the social meet up last night then” he said.
“No, I couldn’t make it then” I said. “Does much happen at them?” I asked.
“A few of the messy facilities are open, they do a few goes in the main gunge tank for slaves who wouldn’t otherwise have a chance to try it” he said. “The main reason to go is the chance to meet and socialise with other attendees. You meet some nice people.”
As he said this I noted a little nervousness in his voice, and his cheeks blushing.
“Sounds like you met someone nice” I said.
I saw him cringe a little as I said this.
“Go on, you can tell me. There’s no-one else listening” I continued.
“Well” he said nervously looking around. “There’s this girl who I‘ve met a few times before. Last night though I saw her sitting on her own at the bar, so I approached her and we got talking.”
“Go on” I encouraged.
“Well we got on very well both chatting and flirting, before I had to brake off to greet an old friend” he said.
“I’m surprised you went away” I said.
“To be honest I wanted to quit while I was ahead” he said. “I found her again later in the night, and I think she was glad to see me. Especially as I rescued her from where she was trapped in a conversation between two old rockers debating who’s better between The Eagles and Queen.”
“Well Queen, obviously” I said.
“This time we kept chatting until closing time, and we’ve arranged to meet up for dinner at tonight” he said. “Then this mourning I don’t think it was coincidence that she turned up at my other one on one session today wearing a beautiful blue satin ball gown.”
“How did that go?” I asked.
“Incredibly well.” He said. “We had a wonderful time messing each other up, and she even gave me a quick kiss at the end.”
“Sounds like we’ve got some young love blooming” I said. I paused then as I heard someone walking along the path. “That sounds like Rebecca” I said, and it was.
“Your done then” she said, looking me up and down. “Good to see I don’t have to untie you myself this time. We had a bit of a joker this mourning” she explained to Caramel Mocha.

With Rebecca back I didn’t want to embarrass Caramel Mocha so I didn’t bring up the subject of his new love. We drove back to the Manor, where it was now past 7 so I was now free for the evening. As I placed my last spare nurses costume in the laundry bag, and stepped into the shower for the 5th time today I found myself thinking of Caramel Mocha and his new love. His demeanour took me back to when I first met my husband Brandon at a Halloween party. Some people still joke I wouldn’t have ended up with him if I’d known he wasn’t wearing a mask. We’d had so many good times together since then. Of course today I’d had one of the greatest days I’d ever had without him with me. I didn’t want to loose either thing going forward in my life. I just hoped I could find a way for both things to co-exist.

Next in the Series
By the same Author



About Black Opera

A WAM lover living on the South coast of England. As well as WAM I also use a lot of master/sub style bondage in a lot of my stories.
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