Chapter 1: Introduction and background
Greetings. This is a true accounting of my recent long weekend in Las Vegas. It has been transcribed from the daily journal I was required to keep of my servitude along with additional documentation I was provided with afterwards. It was put into a story format at the request of my dominant, Sir Michael. The dialog is as best I can recall at what was said at the time, some of the conversations therefore are paraphrased when I cannot recollect the exact words. This is not enjoyable reading for the faint of heart.
I am Bobbie. In addition to Sir Michael and me, there were others participating in the weekend activities but by agreement I do not know their identities. Hopefully, you know my servitude history from reading Eight Days in a Binding Contract, a similar journal of a real week I spent as a bondage submissive in 2023, my first experience in such a life. If you have not, doing so may help make better sense of this journal and in it you can view the extensive contract that sets out the permissions, desires, limits, and safety parameters we agreed upon then and would govern this weekend too.
And if you have read it, you may recall that I was a 46-year-old straight male who spent a total of eight days in San Diego exploring my fantasy of bondage, discipline and forced sexual use by others via my best friend, a 48-year-old gay man and some of his gay friends. That narrative ended with the mention that Sir Michael and I might want to do this again. We had recently been discussing in earnest just how and when such another trip to his home could occur and what it would entail. We were at the point of looking at potential dates in July or August of 2024 when another opportunity presented itself for my fantasies and kinks to be fulfilled in a better venue a little sooner.
I am still the COO for a manufacturing company in North Carolina. I needed to attend a trade show in Las Vegas, May 7-9. During one of my regular phone conversations with Mike I mentioned I would be in Vegas. As best friends dating back to college, we had met up at other conferences in Las Vegas in years past as it is a short, cheap flight from San Diego to Las Vegas for him and he gets to visit with friends he has in the area as well as enjoying the Vegas nightlife and shows with me on my company tab (most nights I am entertaining customers and venders and Mike tags along, we have a great time).
One of Mike’s buddies who lives in Vegas and his partner enjoy a Dom/Sub BDSM lifestyle. Sir Michael had discussed with him ideas for my servitude and discipline while he was planning my previous San Diego trip. I had been ultimately subjected to many of his friend’s suggestions. Sir Michael had then shared my journal with him afterwards, so he knows my story. Upon learning I was traveling to Las Vegas, Mike let his buddy know I was coming to town.
His friend and his partner own a large estate home in the Vegas vicinity. The home has a substantial, well-appointed playroom, i.e., dungeon, that they and their friends use to entertain themselves. Mike, while not into the BDSM lifestyle, had on previous occasions stayed at their home and had seen the dungeon, telling me about it to tantalize me. His friend reminded Mike that they still have a tight circle of gay Dom/sub couples who usually in pairs of three or four, meet up at their home about once a month for a weekend of BDSM debauchery. Mike was told it is usually quite a party, often with different themes, but regardless includes bondage, discipline, and sex. He suggested Mike should bring me and I could be their featured entertainment for the weekend. They would match the weekend to align with the completion of my trade show.
Sir Michael made the offer to me. I did not give an immediate yes to the invitation. It sounded exciting but the number of people that might be attending was large, about eight to ten men along with Sir Michael and me, maybe even more, an overwhelming number. I was also not sure what being the ‘featured entertainment’ might entail, but I could visualize everything from bliss to horror. But in the end, especially since Sir Michael thought this would really be perfect for my ‘warped fantasies,’ as he put it, and that he would remain in charge of me as outlined in our contract, I agreed.
In the time between the San Diego trip and the Las Vegas trip not much had changed in my life, I am still happily married to a wonderful woman. She is not into bondage and certainly not into discipline and torture, but once or twice a year she will indulge me by securing me to the bed or wrapping me in stretch-wrap and then sexually playing with me. This has happened twice since San Diego, and both times were fantastic. Otherwise, I satisfied my urges with secret self-bondage, or by watching BDSM videos and reading stories on-line, none to excess. Most of my phone conversations with Mike, usually about twice a week, are not about BDSM, but just our lives in general, although talk about our sex lives, wants and desires creep into our chats occasionally. Health-wise Sir Michael has remained extremely healthy and ‘undetectable.’ Over the course of the past year, my health and fitness has also remained excellent. I have lost about ten pounds, now weighing in at 171; not bad for my 5’10” height. The weight loss is attributed to both my diet and daily trips to the gym each morning before work. I still have all my hair. Both Mike’s and my careers continue to be successful and fulfilling. I still contend with the high stress of running a business. My bondage fantasies remain my release.
Chapter 2: The Palace Signing
{Thursday 4:30 pm - 6:30 pm}
I had a successful trade show. Mike had flown in on Tuesday, part way through the show and had checked in at his friend’s home. He made it downtown to meet up with me on Wednesday for one of my ‘dinner and drinks’ meetings along with a few others from my company staff, sponsored by a vendor who wanted to be a supplier to us. This meant the vender team was picking up the tab, nice for all of us. We then went on to catch a comedy show. At the conclusion of the evening Mike made final arrangements for picking me up at my hotel on Thursday afternoon to take me to his friend’s home. I would be flying home on Sunday.
During the Expo/Conference I also had been doing my best to follow my pre-instructions given to me by Sir Michael, specifically to avoid large meals, especially ones with fatty meats, i.e., forgo the big steak and order chicken or fish; skip the dairy and spicy foods. Eating vegetables and fruits was encouraged along with beans and whole grains if I could. I was also to take a fiber supplement like Metamucil. They actually make orange flavored Gummies that are pretty good. Apparently, all these things help regulate and minimize bowel activities which makes anal play more pleasant for the top. Obviously, during my stay he planned to be using my butthole again.
I was picked up around 4:00 PM by Sir Michael in his rental car. While the true adventure wasn’t to begin till later in the evening or the next morning, I was handed a blindfold and told to put it on. I was not to know where the home was located, not for the protection of the owners, but to support my fantasy and desire for anonymity. It was about a half hour drive from the hotel. As we drove our conversations were mostly about my business at the conference and we didn’t talk about the weekend to come until we were almost at the villa. That short discussion was that I would meet and visually see our host and then the three of us would go over addendums to the ‘contract’ and discuss house rules for me and what in general to expect. As we neared our arrival, I was instructed to take off the blindfold so I could see the house as we approached.
Wow. This was quite a home. It sits on what I guess to be about five to seven acres of ground. There were other homes nearby, but also on like sized lots so you could not really see one home from another. As you drove up the driveway, the land around it was beautifully landscaped, of course in a desert climate style, but still with very lush gardens and trees. Sir Michael points out the trees and plants as we go, proud of his knowledge, “That’s an African sumac, that’s bay laurel, these are date palm trees,” and so on about other plantings, some sprouting beautiful flowers. The home is palatial. It sits about two-thirds back on the lot with the drive splitting as we approach, with one leg heading to the four-car garage on the side of the house and the other to a circle ending by the front entryway. The circle has an exquisitely landscaped fountain area in the middle of the loop. The home is a tasteful Mediterranean style with numerous arches featured in its stucco walls and a low-pitched terra-cotta roof. It’s big, with balconies and mosaic touches that scream wealth. This is definitely a multi-million-dollar home by my estimation. I’m told in addition to the master suite, it has five additional bedroom suites, each with their own bath and small sitting areas. I won’t get to see any of these during my stay.
We are met at the door by Sir Michael’s friend. He gives his friend a hug and then introduces me to him. “This is Bobbie, I also call him Bitch, Cunt, and Pussy. You can call him whatever you want, it’s your home,” he said with a laugh. There is not a return introduction of his friend to me. I didn’t know what to expect appearance-wise of his friend, as I hadn’t given it any previous thought. I would guess he was just a little older than us, in his early fifties. Fit, tall, maybe six feet, reasonably good looking. Dressed in slacks and a white golf shirt. A successful, distinguished look about him.
His friend says, “Let's head to my office.” and we entered. The foyer itself is amazing with an arched two-story high ceiling with exquisite trim and decorations. I am walked through the main house which is of an open floor plan design. It is breathtaking, both the building features and furnishings, stunning yet not ostentatious. I have been fairly successful in my career and as a result have a very nice home, but nothing like this. As we move further within, beyond the main gathering areas, I can see a huge open kitchen area also well suited for entertaining. Through the windows lining the dining room and pool table/game area you can see the backyard where there is a lavish swimming pool surrounded by a large patio area with lots of lounge chairs, a couple of gazebos and a cabana, obviously the area where their outside entertaining occurs. It too is lush with desert greenery.
We reach his office which has both his desk and a work/conference table. I’m told to take a seat at the table, and I do. There are three sets of papers which are sets of Sir Michael’s and my original contract now with a set of addendums I was to consider and agree. I am told to pick up my copy and I recognize the first page of the document. There has been a minor change, an additional two lines at the bottom, ‘Amended’ and a date.
A Servitude Contract
Enter into between
Sir Master Michael
Dominant
&
His Bitch, Bobbie
Submissive
on this Friday, May 12, 2023
Amended
Thursday, May 9, 2024
Mike and his friend picked up their copies too and Sir Michael went over the changes. He advised that the contract, as originally written, that I had previously agreed takes up the bulk of what I have in front of me. It was the last two pages that have the amendments that we need to go over. He asked first if I have any questions about the main document which I did not, so he directs me to the last two pages, which are as follows:
Amendments:
Section 11 (Add) The parties agree to extend the contract effective time period to include Thursday, May 9, 2024 to Sunday, May 12, 2024.
Section 14 (Add) The locations to be used shall also include the property and home of a friend of the Dominant located in the Las Vegas area.
Section 15.10 (Add/Strike) The Submissive shall service the friends or guests of the Dominant at any location of the Dominant’s choosing. The Submissive may (strike ‘will’) be bound/restrained/blindfolded during these encounters.
Section 15.12 (Add) Under his supervision the Dominant may use others to secure the bonds.
Section 15.14 (Add) The Dominant may elect to use his guests to be the near-by watch of the Submissive while he is bound, gagged or in restrictive sleeping or be watched via attended monitors.
Section 15.18 (Add/Strike) The Submissive may (strike ‘will’) be bound, restrained and blindfolded during these encounters and this is by the Submissive’s expressed request and consent.
Section 15.19 The Submissive will take a daily regimen of 40mg Cialis (Tadalafil) to help assure he can be rigid when required.
Appendix 1 Obedience: (Add) The Submissive shall address the Dominant as Sir Michael or Master. He shall address the dominant host and any dominant guests as Master or if appropriate as Mistress. He shall address the submissive host and any submissive guests as Sir, as the Submissive is subservient to them.
Appendix 1 Sleep: (Add) During the May 9 to May 12, 2024 period of this contract it is likely that the Submissive will be bound for its entirety and will need to be available to service and be used by the Dominant and his guests at any time during the period; therefore, the Submissive will be allowed to nap while bound during times of inactivity without penalty.
Appendix 1 Food: (Add) As the Submissive is expected to be bound the entire May 9 to May 12, 2024 period, he will be fed in place with foods deemed acceptable by the Dominant and suitable to keeping the Submissive’s colon more usable by tops.
Appendix 1 Personal Hygiene: (Add) The Submissive accepts being assisted in maintaining his personal cleanliness by the Host’s own submissive and others.
Appendix 1 Hosting: (Add) The two hosts of the May 9 to May 12, 2024 period activities want and expect no payment or gratuities for the use of their home, facilities, equipment, or toys other than the permitted sexual use and abuse of the Subservient by them and their invited participants, so long as such is acceptable by the Dominant and within the terms and rules of the Contract.
Appendix 2 Activities Acceptable: (Add) The following items are added to the list as they were voted to be added previously:
Towel whipping
Simultaneous oral and anal sex by two or more users
Appendix 2 Activities Acceptable: (Add) The following items are added as they were previously move to the list from the ‘Activities Not of Interest’ list to the ‘Activities Acceptable’ list by the Dominant as permitted:
Ball spanking
Ball torture – moderate
Cock worship
Daily diary
Penis torture – moderate
Public nudity and/or visible bondage
Public servicing
Lavatory attendant (piss only)
Rimming – giving
Weight control
Appendix 2 Activities Acceptable: (Add) New:
Bound in pool
Sexual interactions with trans-women having male genitals
Appendix 2 Hard Limits (Add) New:
Caning via Rattan cane and similar canes
Conclusion 22 (Add) We the undersigned have read and understood fully the provisions of the original contract signed May 11, 2023 and agree that it remains enforce as written with the above listed amendments on this Thursday, May 9, 2024. We freely accept the terms of this contract and the amendments and have acknowledged this by our signatures below.
The Dominant:
The Submissive:
The Host:
(Note: The entire original contract can be found in the publication Eight Days in a Binding Contract by Bobbie)
Sir Michael went over all of the amendments with me. Many of them were self-explanatory and were of no issue. The changing of ‘will’ to ‘may’ regarding my bondage was mainly to address me being blindfolded. There were going to be a lot of activities occurring around me and Sir Michael wanted me to see them. I would have to sacrifice part of my fantasy of always being blindfolded while being used to satisfy the pleasure of my master, which was for me to be a voyeur of the bondage and sexual use of others in the dungeon. I would still be bound and forced to service.
Although I do not suffer from ED, I was reminded I had taken this dosage of the generic erectile aid Tadalafil in San Diego with no ill effects, only positive ones. I was to take it again so I would more readily obtain an erection when they wanted me to be hard.
I would be fed, but it would be light meals, I may be a little hungry, but I’d have to deal with it.
Sir Michael explained why the new items were added to the Acceptable list. I was told that there is a beautiful pool here and that the party guests often use the pool during these weekends. If I was to be of service as Sir Michael wanted, there may be times when I needed to be there. Plus, they thought I would enjoy the pool too, but as I would be bound for the weekend, they needed this allowance added.
Regarding the trans-women, over the years in my phone chats with Sir Michael, I had occasionally asked questions about this unique lifestyle and if he had ever been with someone of this life choice. He recalled my inquiries and figured it might be interesting to possibly have me check it out for myself, up close and personal. On one of his previous visits here, the hosts had introduced him to a friend that is a trans-woman. She occasionally comes to their play parties. An invitation had been extended to her and while not confirmed, may come for part of the weekend. This was something new for me to fret about as it gets close to the no women line in the sand of my Hard Limits. I have never had intercourse with any other women besides my wife and didn’t want that to change. This addition had me pondering, but with a little coaxing, I finally agreed to it.
Sir Michael also remembered I didn’t want to be caned because the whip marks on the butt might remain for weeks and I could not return home with such scaring, so he added that to the document.
After finishing his review of the changes, Sir asks if I have any other questions. I nod no. His friend then says I have one, and he directs the question to me. “Are you sure you want to do this, give yourself up to us in servitude with all that that requires for the weekend?”
“Yes, Master,” was my immediate reply. Now, I have a suggestion for all that are reading this, when a practicing BDSM Dominant asks you that question knowing he has a dungeon at his disposal and like-minded friends coming to ‘play’, listen for subtext. I didn’t give as much weight to the comment as I should have.
In the end, all of us signed the amending document.
The Host then went over the general plan for the weekend. First, I would be introduced to his partner tomorrow morning as he was currently still at work and would be returning late. He serves as a sub in their Dom/sub relationship when they are playing, which they do on the weekends. During the week they maintain an equal relationship. They have been partners for many years, and this works very well for them. I would be served a lite dinner and then moved to the dungeon. We would have a general tour of the playroom and other areas. After the tour my servitude would begin.
Regarding their planned use of me, all I needed to know about the details is that their play parties are commonly active all night and day long for the whole weekend and that it a would begin Friday afternoon and end Sunday around noon when I would be readied to head out to the airport for my mid-afternoon flight. As I would be serving as the ongoing entertainment for the party, I should expect very little sleep. Also, that I should expect that the terms and rules of the Contract would be followed by any participants but also assume I’ll be used to the contract’s fullest allowances as he assumes was my desire and kink. Why else would I have signed it? Not necessarily a comforting or reassuring thought. I’d be safe under Sir Michael’s watchful eye, but these guys are practitioners of BDSM and likely know how to push the limits of a bound submissive to their satisfaction and pleasure. I figured I had a painful weekend ahead of me. His closing remarks gave me a little mental relief. He said when he read my Epilog chapter of my Eight Days journal, he saw that I was surprised that I was whipped and paddled more than I thought I would be and sexually used less than I thought I would be. He said that this weekend would likely have a different balance, but still, expect both.
Chapter 3: Touring My Real Fantasyland
{Thursday 6:30 pm - 8:30 pm}
We ate and then I was taken to the dungeon. The entry door was indistinguishable from the others along the hallway that were for the bedroom suites and gym. As you entered you were in a nice small foyer with a second door at the other end. This, unlike the first door, was a menacing heavy steel door with big hinges, a viewing porthole and three 2” wide and about 1/2" thick sliding bars that secured the door to its matching heavy steel frame. The bars were slid free of their receivers and the door was opened. We stepped through to a small balcony overlooking a very large room with high ceilings. It was four steps down to the main floor where we were stopped by a wall of steel prison bars with a sliding door of similar design. This was unlocked and we stepped onto the main floor area of the dungeon. I have to say the entrance to this room was impressive and intimidating.
I’m not sure just how large this room was, but it was big. Plenty of room, nothing crowded, and built with functionality in mind for all the toys and furniture it held. I was then shown each piece of equipment housed within, given plenty of time to absorb its purpose and fret about its possible use on me. Everything was first class and professionally made.
First, I was shown the Saint Andrew's cross, it was very similar to the one Sir Michael had borrowed for my abuse last year. I’m surprised that Sir had two friends with like tastes in toy design and deep pockets, as I am sure this is an expensive top of the line piece of play furniture. The cross is large and covered in rich black leather. It has pre-attached heavy two-inch-wide leather straps to securely buckle the limbs and body of the victim tight to it. The top wrist straps are really cuffs attached to ratchet straps that stretch the body upward when cranked. The bottom straps are also cuffs to hold the ankles fast against the upward pull of the wrists. The ankle cuffs are located just above drop-away footrests mounted about ten inches up from the floor. After the ankle straps are applied and the wrist straps taken up, the victim will effectively be stretched and suspended when the foot pads are dropped. The other bounding straps along the cross when fastened make the suspension bearable to which from experience I can attest.
The next piece of furniture shown to me was a sturdy wood bondage bed, full size with a steel barred cage built beneath the mattress frame to serve as a low height prison cell. The tailboard had built-in pillory boards that could capture the victim’s neck, wrists and ankles in any combination and usable from either side. The headboard and canopy frame had various steel attachment rings for securing points. The bed and cage were painted black with red leather accents. It was exquisite, functional, and scary as hell.
We move on to three pegging/whipping benches. Each is different in design but serving similar purposes. In San Diego I had spent considerable training time secured to one. One of the benches was much like Sir Michael’s, having adjustable padded chest, arm and leg rests, each of the rests equipped with built in restraints. Different from his is that it also had a head rest that could hold the user’s head fast while still providing ample access to his oral opening for obvious use. The second bench was much like the first, but it had solid sides holding the padded arm and leg rests instead of a set of independent four legs. This design allowed for more adjustment and positioning capabilities. It too had a head restraint feature. The last bench, again serving the same general purposes, was designed with an upper independent chest rest but just two lower rests, one per side, that the user’s arms and legs would share. This unit had minimal adjustments but lots of securing points for straps or ropes.
Next up was four classic BDSM furniture pieces in a row. First in line was a heavy wood stand up pillory. The jet-black unit had two upright side posts holding the neck and wrist securing boards. The arms and neck slots had leather padding. There were available securing points for the ankles at the base of the posts.
Sitting next to but not crowding the pillory was a heavy wood bondage chair. In concept, this was like the one I was strapped into in San Diego but of even higher quality. It is made of dark stained oak, its boards thicker and heavier than dimensional lumber. The seat height is a good three feet from the floor, you have to climb up onto it to get seated. Its unconventional seat is made of two smooth oak planks about six inches wide and two inches thick that jut out from the backrest in a Vee shape, making it open in the middle. They are supported in the front by square post style vertical legs. The user’s upper legs sit on the planks and their lower legs dangle in front of the posts, where they can be secure if desired. Their legs are kept on the planks by removable one-inch round pipes that rise about five inches vertically out of sockets built into each of the leg posts. The pipes press up against their widely spread inter-knees which keeps the captive’s legs on the planks and impossible to close together. With this design there is clear undefendable front access all the way back to their cock and balls, or if holding a woman, their lovely, exposed cunt. A long narrow back extends from the floor to a height of about seven feet, serving both as the rear chair leg and back rest. There are chair arms that also extend from the back of the chair but come out from a point in the back wider than the legs. They are in a parallel Vee to the legs but in a plane further outward. The arm boards allow for forearms and wrists to be supported while secured. The chair is elegant in its simple design but also looks menacing. It is adorned with countless connection points so the victim can be well secured.
Beside the chair was a glistening midnight black Spanish wooden horse. This looked like an especially vicious and effective piece of apparatus, and it fascinated me. Its base legs were built from three-by-three-inch square wood posts that mimic the shape of an oversized carpenter’s sawhorse rising to a height of just under five feet tall. The leg sets were about three and one-half feet wide at the floor and there was five feet between each of the legs sets, making a horse that was an intimidating five feet high and five feet long, not counting the decorations projecting from each end. The two leg sets were held together by side walls and end caps made of smooth plywood approximately three feet wide and were fastened to the upper end of the unit, giving the top two-thirds a solid body look, with open legs for the bottom third. Stability and sturdiness are achieved by wood lateral and cross bracing of the legs near the floor. The braces had caster wheels to allow the horse to be easily moved. The top of the Vee was a flat two-inch-wide wood plank surface. It was designed to take a topper piece that would hold fast to it with wood pegs.
The owners had three topper choices to use with their horse. One was a wood triangle that came to a rounded point on top. This accessory was currently in place on the horse. A daunting and painful looking perch. Sitting on a rack underneath the unit were the two others. One was a similar triangle to the first, but this one has a vee formed copper strip mounted along the top edge overhanging each side by about one inch and running its entire length. A second one-inch strip of copper runs parallel to the Vee strip on each side, mounted about one inch below it. The copper can be charged for electro play to further abuse a rider. The second topper had a row of five rubber pegs protruding from its top, spread out along its length and increasing in size from one end to the other.
An ample number of screw-eye hitching rings are strategically mounted on the horse for various tiedown choices. The unit has its whimsical side, as there is a plywood cut-out shaped horse head on one end and a tail on the other. The horse was clearly made by a wood craftsman. Although I was intrigued by this torture device I wanted no part of it. I was concerned that my interest was evident to my Masters which could lead to bad things.
Last in this row was a device that took up a much smaller footprint but was still deserving to be part of the grouping. Rising from a three-by-three-foot metal base fitted with tie down anchors was an adjustable shiny steel one-pole prison with a progressive steel ball dildo mounted on top. Very simple in design and not imposing or frightful as it stood there, yet in the same breath looked like it would serve its intended purpose well.
We moved over to what our tour guide called the ‘discipline wall’. This twelve-foot-wide wall section and the floor in front of it has a surface of double thick 3/4-inch plywood running from the floor to a height of about twelve feet and coming out on the floor from the wall for about ten feet. It is used to mount in place steel pipe securing systems that can restrain a victim in about any way one can conceive and/or need. It appears currently set up to receive and hold a person with his back against the wall sitting on two outward mounted pipes with his arms secure downward in an upside-down Vee and his legs pulled up over his head and spread wide, fully exposing his butt. Its use is self-evident and would make the user completely defenseless to assault. There is a large trunk housing a well-organized ample supply of mounts, connectors, and pipes of assorted lengths along with a power driver and screws for the mounts and tightening tools for the connectors. There are also some pre-mounted pieces of equipment including a Sybian and a wood crotch wedge (a 5”x5”x”5” triangle block of wood with somewhat rounded points that is about 18 inches long and is meant for crotch sitting), both set up for wall mounting. There is a photo and sketch concept book sitting on the trunk to provide ideas for entrapping the next individual to be abused. Those featured in the concept photos show vulnerabilities and expressions that imply I might not find this station overly enjoyable. The photos were taken on site.
Across the room is a horizontal extended X-shaped cross that sort of reminds me of a St. Andrew’s Cross laid down flat, yet it’s different. Its obvious use is to tie down a submissive in a spread-eagle fashion in a way that makes his body, head and limbs fully approachable. It has a thick twelve-inch-wide center board to hold the body. Coming off the bottom end of this board are two matching six-inch-wide arms that form the lower part of the X. About two feet up the center board the upper arms of the X connect; and there the center board reduces to a six-inch width and extends a little over twelve inches further providing a place to hold the neck and head. There are five 4x4 posts, about three feet high, and well braced, holding up the X off the floor horizontally. One each is located at the end of each of the four arms and one in the middle of the center board. The X is padded and wrapped in black leather. On the head/neck extension there is a built-in bump-up to support the hollow under the neck. There are three leather straps on each of the four arms, two at the body section, two at the neck and head extension. It looks like a comfortable, yet inescapable, way to be tied down. I liked the possibilities this device presented.
The back corner was made into a replica of a medieval prison cell with the back and side wall being floor to ceiling stone masonry. It then had bars of flat iron on the remaining two sides to create a twelve by five-foot cell. The bars were of a grid design and were finished to give the impression of being hand-hammer when made. The cell was about twelve feet tall and had the top enclosed with the same type of bar grid. The cell of course had a locking door of similar design and materials. Fixed into the rear wall’s stone mortar were two full sets of irons so that two captives could be secured to the wall by the neck, wrists, waist, and ankles by heavy steel cuffs/bands and short chains. Intimidating.
Hanging nearby from the ceiling is a human sized birdcage. It too is primitive in style and the cage is iron like the cell bars. It didn’t look like a comfortable spot to be held. Not too far from the birdcage, but away from the cell, and hanging by adjustable chains from the ceiling, is a classic four-point leather sling, currently set at the ideal height for pegging someone who was lying in it.
The last equipment I can remember in the room (I am sure there was more) were three remote control operated metal cable power-winches attached to the ceiling, two adjacent to each other, with their cables lowered to about eight feet, their hooks at the ready; and the third located in the very center of the room. This one currently had an attached 36-inch bar with two suspension cuffs dangling from it, waiting, just waiting.
Then there were the toys. Very near the entryway of the playroom, arranged and intended to intimidate those entering (and it did me) were whips, riding crops, paddles, floggers, cat-o-nine-tails, and canes of every kind and size, hanging on a wall in very neat and organized rows, they too, waiting and wanting to be used. Another wall held all kinds of bondage toys, some on shelves, some hanging from hooks, things like cuffs, belts, hoods, gags, leatherware, collars, irons, chastity devices, corsets, even a straitjacket. Most items were leather, but there was also an assortment of metal/steel, nylon web, cloth, and rubber/latex toys. Oh, and yes, plenty of ropes of all types, lengths, colors and thicknesses, neatly hung in rows on pegs. Next to them an equal assortment of chains and their related rings, snap hooks, and carabiners. All at the ready. Ready for me.
Torment toys and general play toys had their own shelves. I couldn’t keep track of them all when shown to me. I saw one shelf with numerous ErosTex electro control boxes like the cool ET312B and a couple of others. I recognized an ET302R as that is the one I own, and I would love to own an ET312B, but they don’t make them anymore. To go with them there were all sorts of accessories used to deliver the electro pulses, too many to remember, let alone describe. There was also a violet wand with all its attachments in a plastic see-through case. On another shelf were chastity and penis tormentors, ball stretchers, nipple clamps, crushers, weights, and even a humbler. Another had dildos, butt plugs and vibrators of every type, shape, and size, some much bigger than I could ever bear or maybe anyone could for that matter. The investment alone in devious toys was shocking. So yes, I was becoming rightfully anxious.
The room also had four, maybe five, large LED monitors on the walls. Off to the side was a large heavy wood table, with four chairs sitting around it. Maybe a conference table or lunch table? Whichever, there were heavy duty eye-hooks screwed into the side every few feet, for obvious reasons. Certainly, sturdy enough to tie someone down on it if you wanted. There was a refrigerator (a built-in-the-wall type) near it for snacks and drinks, I guess. This wall also housed built-in drawers and what I believe were closets, maybe they were dressing rooms. Also near the table was a set of double doors that led to the outside. These were behind a curtain, but accessible. I was told when shown them on the tour that these led directly outside to the pool deck, one of a few ways to get there. These doors from the playroom were always openable from the inside with their emergency bar hardware. “This is a room where we play, not die,” I was reassured. It was then pointed out that the playroom, as well as the entire home, had both residential fire sprinklers and a smoke detection system. Safety was always paramount when they played and partied.
We then move to an adjacent room off the side of the main playroom. I was told this was called the Wet Room. At first look, you might call it a bathroom, but it was much more than that and larger by far. Like the main room of the dungeon, it’s oversized. It was done completely in white tile, floors, walls and ceiling, apart from the front wall that it shared with the dungeon, which was of glass, floor to ceiling. There were privacy curtains there, but they were fully open and look like that is how they stay most of the time. The open entryway from the main room was near the right side of the wet room. As you entered you were in what was the washing area. The tile floor was slanted to the back wall, where a generous floor drain ran for a length of about fifteen feet. Spaced evenly along the back wall were three shower valves with the first and third having handheld shower heads mounted above them with extra length chrome hoses and the middle one mounted in the same way but equipped with a douching wand in addition to a showerhead. Aligned with each of the valves in the center of the ceiling were also ceiling mounted ‘rain style’ shower heads. Diverter selection valves provide for one or the other or both to flow simultaneously. Attached to the back wall near the center was a small stainless steel hose reel with a valve, holding a one-inch hose and nozzle. I was advised that there was an ample and strong water supply that could feed and supply all the showers and the hose simultaneously if desired.
More noteworthy than the shower and douche plumbing was what was protruding from the floor in the center of the room. In line with the middle shower/douche valve coming out of the floor was a three-inch wide stainless-steel adjustable vertical pole, set now at about three to four feet high which supported an attached flat bottom, rounded top stainless-steel crossbeam about eighteen inches long and five inches wide. Basically, it was a large round top Tee. It reminded me of a miniature one pole pommel horse with no handles. Recessed in the floor on each side of the pole were four securing points, one on each side near to the pole and one on each side further from the pole. The purpose of the unit was to bend a submissive over the beam and secure their legs wide and wrists near the pole, exposing their rear for cleansing or other needs. There were also ceiling mounted and floor mounted stainless rings available for securing a bather upright and wide at each shower station. Past this shower/douching area at the far end of the wet room are two steel prison style toilets and two sinks. A point was made to show me securing points, also recessed in the floor, that were provided on both sides of the water closets. The entire room was bright, spotlessly clean, and fresh. It was clearly designed with specific tasks in mine and with the intent that the occupants could be restrained if warranted and fully visible to anyone in the dungeon as those tasks were completed.
We left the wet room and I was taken to the dungeon’s double outside exit doors. “Our parties sometimes move to the pool area for meals, a quick swim or even sometimes outdoor bondage play,” he says with a wink and adds, “We have complete privacy around the pool as it is well secluded from any of our neighbors or the public. Those using the playroom need not go through the house to get there, we use these doors.” We exit.
The pool area, just like the rest of this home, is beautiful. The pool itself is huge, the biggest I have ever seen at a residential home. It is a free shaped walk-in beach style type sporting two fountains a few feet apart partially down the walk in. They reminded me of the fountains I had just seen at the Bellagio in Vegas earlier in the week. The faraway deep end has both a diving board and a tall, curved sliding board. The surrounding patio’s hardscape and landscaping are breathtaking, having a serene waterfall flowing to the pool, a gas-fired fire pit, two large gazebos (one for conversations and one featuring a big built-in stainless-steel barbeque and grill and a nicely stocked bar), a cabana for changing and showers, a simple, yet substantial wood swing that matches the gazebos, and connecting pathways going to smaller intimate patio areas that create a perfect haven of relaxation and tranquility. Each area has complementary outdoor furniture that looks lovely and comfortable.
Nestled discreetly within these dramatic architectural features, probably innocuous to most guests, are built in apparatus for bondage aficionados to practice their kink outside. The purpose of the tour, of course, is to tantalize me with them, so they were pointed out as we go. There were attachment rings that were discreetly part of a lovely arbor that one walkway passed under. One of the gazebos had a pully assembly top center that blended into its surroundings that when a rope was provided could hoist up a sub, the swing structure also suitable for sub suspension or mounting a leather sling if the swing was removed from its top beam. Amongst the brick pavers of the pool deck where a grouping of chaise lounge chairs sat, restraint attachment points were hidden within the bricks, suitable for stretching a submissive spread eagle including tethering their neck and balls. Some of the chairs and chases also had eye hooks discreetly in place. Probably one of the more threatening things shown to me was an innocuous outdoor wooden garden trunk that housed about eight solid blocks made of poured concrete each having a hefty stainless steel ring protruding from the top, cast in place. I was asked if I knew what they were, and I didn’t really, and thus was informed that they were anchors for sea-buoys. Master added that they weigh about fifty-five pounds each and they use them here in the pool when playing games in the water with their submissives.
The pool visit was the end of our tour, and we headed back into the playroom, with me being extremely impressed and alarmed. Sir Michael had described this mansion and the dungeon to me before, but his description never came close to the unbelievable facility I had just been shown. These owners obviously love their lifestyle and have been fortunate to have the vision and resources to both create this place and then use it. It is fantastic that they also share it with others. But after seeing it, I have good reason to be both scared to death and aroused by what may happen at the hands of true BDSM practitioners to me on all that stuff over the next three days.
Chapter 4: A Slow Start Is Debatable
{Thursday 8:30 pm - Friday 7:00 am}
“We might as well get started,” my host states. “Here’s the idea,” Sir Michael adds. “I want you to have the best experience possible. I’m certainly not an expert at being a BDSM Dominant. As you can easily guess, our Host is. So, he and I have agreed that he will take the lead in your activities for the weekend. This will make me happy. I am and will continue to still serve as your Dominant providing a watchful eye over your bondage, use and discipline, but I’ll rely on his expertise and knowledge to push your limits and fulfill your fantasies. I trust him fully and you should too. He promises to start slowly, but where it goes from there, I will leave it to him and his friends. Just remember, they will all be here to enjoy their special kind of sexual entertainment, they didn’t come to a dungeon to play ‘kissy-kissy, let’s make love on the bed’. This should be your fantasy come true. I suspect and hope that much of their fun on this visit will be focused on you. You’ll be a sweet new treat for them. That being said, I hope you don’t blow this rare opportunity and cop out with safe words when things get a little rough or just outright quit; you’ll hate yourself knowing you likely will never get a chance like this in your world. OK?”
After seeing the place, I am borderline panicked, realizing this would be much more of an ordeal than I had envisioned, and Sir Michael had just confirmed it. On the other hand, yes, the others would get their kicks, but they were genuinely trying to give me a gift. I really couldn’t and wouldn’t object now. I had agreed to do this in the freshly renewed Contract, so I obediently replied, “Yes Sir”.
And then our Host filled in the details, “Great. We will start playing with you now, but your servitude will begin in earnest tomorrow morning. As I said, you will meet my mate, partner, love, and submissive then. He will be your caretaker for the weekend. By that I mean, he will provide your meals, minimal as they will be, oversee your morning routine, including your morning workout, shower and cleansing and manage your bathroom needs. Regarding that, if you need to piss, it will be done where you are bound via a portable male urinal bottle. I’m not letting you up every time you have a whim to wiz. Most of the time, he or one of his fellow submissives will remain in the dungeon with you if the rest of us have gone elsewhere. Otherwise, you will be watched via monitors in the house or on Sir Michael’s or my phone. There are numerous cameras throughout the dungeon, you have no privacy anywhere here. All that happens here will also be recorded, but don’t worry as nothing is being transmitted publicly and your Contract limits regarding sharing videos and photos will be respected. A copy of the recordings will be kept in our archives along with your Contract for everyone’s protection. My partner is a practicing attorney, and he is fussy about things like that. You will remain in some form of bondage for the entire time you are here. The plan is for you to spend the vast majority of your time in the dungeon, except if I decide you should be taken to the pool area where, as I told you, we sometimes entertain, or when you work out in our gym, and maybe when you greet my guests for the weekend.”
He continued, “Yes, there will be others here. I believe Michael has made you aware of that. We have a group of friends that meet here monthly to play. We in the gay world call them play parties. My friends have all been made aware of you. I have shared your story and most of them have looked up your journal online and have read it. At my request, Michael has emailed them copies of your contract, so they are informed of the contents, limits, rules, and safe words. Sir Michael and I promise you that we will see everyone abides by it. Please recognize, however, that these friends are practicing BDSM enthusiasts. They are here to enjoy that lifestyle and they often play hard. Like myself and my partner, they are all Dom/sub couples. None of them are extreme or overly sadistic practitioners but they aren’t pussies either. There may also be another single participant, I am still waiting for confirmation on that. This group engages with each other almost exclusively. They each have their own unique kinks which make our weekends fun for all. You are new, safe prey. It will be interesting to see how each of them incorporates and targets you into their play. I don’t think you, or any of us, will be bored. You sore, tired, and well used, likely.”
“Tonight’s activities will be minimal, as we need you to get as much rest now as once tomorrow morning’s wakeup comes, you will almost certainly not have any sustained meaningful sleep time through Sunday. I believe you’ve been told you are permitted to take catnaps whenever you can, and I encourage you to do so. Since we need no new permissions to use your body, we will start any activity we wish on you whether you are awake and alert or not. There are drawers built into the wall near the table we showed you. Strip naked and put your clothes and personal items you have on you in there. Your luggage will be brought in later. My mate will unpack you and put your stuff in the drawers. He will gather the play toys you brought and put them where they will be accessible to us. He will put your meds and personal care items in a waterproof box in the wet room. Now go ahead, get to it.”
I stripped as ordered and presented myself, somewhat hiding my privates with my hands, a little embarrassed of being stark naked in front of a man who with his eyes is conducting a thorough inspection of what he sees. My genitals quickly are placed into clear view as I was then handed a leather collar embossed with the name ‘BITCH’, advised that a collar is the symbol of servitude, and told to put it on. Apparently, someone took time to purchase a collar just for me. I am then handcuffed with my hands behind my back and walked over to one of the pegging benches and told to climb on. With my hands not available to help, they provide the boost. I am familiar with this piece of equipment, having spent a significant time being trained and used on one at Sir Michael’s. I am strapped down. New to me is that this bench has a headrest, and thus, my head too is secured tight. I am then blindfolded. Stuck, I wait, unable to resist any assault other than refusing to open my mouth and I know from my previous training, doing that would result in severe consequences. I feel lube being smeared around my butthole and then a butt plug is rudely pushed in. I had been working myself with toys prior to the trip to prepare myself for this inevitable need, but even with prep, this insertion hurt. I was still adapting to the discomfort in my ass when my pain receptors were diverted to my cheeks being paddled. Stinging, rapid strikes, in sets of three, hitting one cheek, then the other. We had just started, so I can think of no reason for being disciplined. This must be simply because it pleased my masters. They were just setting the tone, kicking things off. Each of them working their own selected cheek. Apparently, to further set the mood they outfitted me with a ball sling on my sack and then suspended a considerable amount of weight from it and set it swinging. The swaying was assisted by my jerking body as I was then whipped by a flogger on my back, butt, and tender sides. They seem to take turns with a single whip this evolution. You could tell one abuser was more practiced in this art. And then it stopped. I was proud of myself as, other than quiet moaning, I never cried out or used any safe words.
My surrogate new master then whispers in my ear, “That was to mentally prepare you for taking and accepting pain for the rest of the weekend. It was just a tiny mild taste of things to come. Be sure to ponder on it as you fall asleep. Keep thinking, ‘I cannot control this, they can and will do whatever they want to me, it is impossible to resist, suffering, pain is inevitable, I deserve it, I want this.’ You know one of the things we will want again and again is to be serviced orally, it’s your fantasy and desire and will be your reality. I know you have learned to do this, and you are going to show me now what you learned and can handle.” I can feel his presence now in front of me and hear the sound of his zipper, then the push down of his pants and briefs. “Open,” is the command and I obey. I’m surprised to find he is already hard. I can tell that he is circumcised, clean and fairly large. Not Michael large, but large enough. I go to work as taught using my tongue on his head and slit and lips on his shaft. I have no other tools to help with my hands and head secured. I concentrate on the fact that I am bound and unable to resist my distasteful use and that helps motivate my efforts. This scene seems to also be exciting to him, it makes sense, a Dom fucking the mouth of a bound sub is his thing. He gives me a familiar set of ongoing instructions of “Close, Lick, More tongue, Use your lips, No teeth,” etc. He is doing his part too, moving in and out without going so deep as to gag me. He has a good grip on my head and uses that hold to help with the work action. It is subtle though as the head restraint doesn’t allow for much movement.
I then get a very specific command of “Now get ready and do not bite me or you’ll suffer more than you desire.” I am trying to make sense of what he just said when my butt is whipped again, this time with what felt like a riding crop. The second it hit my body jumped and my jaw naturally contracted, but because of the warning I was able to control it pretty well and he was not bitten, at least not bitten hard. “Good Bitch,” I hear. The stinging strikes keep coming as the in and out thrusting in my mouth continues. The sound of a whip striking me is evidently making the Master excited. His cock is even harder, and his movement is faster. It doesn’t take long when I feel his hands on my head tense up and he shoves in, past my gag control and he holds fast as he pulses. I’m gagging and struggling to pull back away from him to no avail, both because of the head restraints and his strong grip holding his groin tight against my face and cock deep in my mouth. I dare not bite down. I can feel his warm cum in my throat and mouth as my throat muscles involuntarily spasm against his dick head exciting him more. It is more than a few seconds of me choking, gaging, and resisting as best I can when he pulls back and exits. My gag reflex is still reacting although there is nothing there. Saliva with some intermixed cum is dripping from my mouth down to the floor. Sir Michael takes one last hit, a fairly wicket one, and stops.
“Good boy, very good boy, you’re not that bad for a newbie. Now close your mouth, swallow good, take all of me down, use your tongue to wipe down the inside of your mouth and then open again,” calls out the Master. I reluctantly swallow and sweep and swallow again, God, I really don’t like the taste of other people’s cum, it’s doable, just not pleasant. I then open wide and wait for the inevitable reentry of a wet cum covered dick looking to be cleaned. And in it comes and I provide the required service, with Master still clenching his shaft with one hand coaxing out the last few drops of semen for me to consume. The life of a bondage submissive, obviously. The drops of semen from his second entry doesn’t help the taste. I think this may be a long, long weekend.
“Bedtime, let’s get you ready.” I am unbuckled from the bench, told to dismount and I am immediately re-handcuffed. My blindfold is removed, and I am told to look down. Master says, “See that mess on the floor, you need to clean up after yourself first.” I am pushed down on my knees and then my head is pushed to the floor. “Come on, put your tongue out and lick your mess up.” After I reluctantly comply, I am pulled back up and I am walked over to the big bed. I smile, foolishly thinking I am going to sleep on top of the inviting mattress, not a shower stall like in San Diego. Sitting on the bed is a set of irons, made up of pairs of two-inch-wide chromed steel wrist and ankle cuffs each connected by one-inch oval link silver chains and a similar wide neck collar. A central chain connects the neck collar to the other two pairs via interconnecting rings that allow for movement of the chains. The handcuffs are removed and the two Masters work together to secure my limbs and neck, with the cuffs, their attached chains arranged so that my arms are again behind me. There is enough slack to be able to hobble and move my arms around past my sides, but not far enough to my front to touch my privates or to reach the plug in my butt.
The door to the cell beneath the bed is opened and I am told to get down and climb in. Not so easy when bound as I now am, but I make it happen. No assistance was provided. The door is then closed and then jiggle to show me I was locked in. So much for sleeping on a mattress.
“The door is locked magnetically. Sir Michael, my partner and I have the card keys that will release the lock. You are here for the night. You will be alone in the dungeon, but night cameras provide surveillance, both visually and audibly. Just so you know, the locks to this cage and all other magnetic locks and doors that may secure you this weekend are interconnected with the fire detection and sprinkler systems. If they operate or if we have a power failure, the locks will all fail-safe open. You know where the exit door to the outside is, and it is always openable from the inside. Your irons will restrict your movements, but if needed you are mobile enough to escape the house. I will be turning the lights out. The only illumination in this room will be from the EXIT sign by the door and the TV monitors. The bed is situated so that a monitor can be seen from each of the four sides of your cage. They will be playing some of the most violent and shocking BDSM bondage and torture films we have collected in a loop all night. The sound system here will blare their sound tracts. The room is well insulated so no sounds can be heard from the room, but I assure you that you will clearly hear the sounds from the videos. Should you need it, there is a male urinal bottle in the back corner of your cell. Be careful, there are no towels. If you have a spill, you lick it up. By the way, because I know you are thinking about it, these sleeping arrangements are all within the allowable terms of your Contract, barely. Expect us to exploit the provisions of that document to our amusement and not yours all weekend long, that way we all can have fun, pleasant dreams my sweet prince.” And they walk away.
The video monitors and sound system come to life. I hear the cell door close at the bottom of the stairs, then the lights go out and the heavy door at the landing is shut hard, I assume for effect, and the slide bolts closed. And I am alone, bound naked, filled with a butt plug, and in a cage, with no escape possible, unless there is a fire.
I try to get comfortable. There are no pillows or blankets, the floor is tile, not cold like Sir Michael’s shower stall I slept in, but not warm either. I have a caked phlegm coating and lingering foul taste of cum in my mouth and throat. And of course, I am fully aware of my nakedness other than my leather collar that is just above the metal neck ring that secures me. The video sounds are disturbing, lots of whip sounds, screams and other agony noises. It will be tough to tune them out. I gazed out the cage at one of the screens and Master was accurate, these are violent bondage shows. At least some are with women, which is my sexual preference. I try to get comfortable and think pleasant thoughts, but with the weekend to come on my mind, the stuff I saw in this room, the session I just experienced and can still feel and taste, along with the sounds and sights from the videos make that unlikely. It’s not long before I have the urgent need to pee. With effort, I locate the bottle, but with my hands secure as they are and the poor maneuverability because of the very low ceiling height of the cell, it takes a great deal of effort to get my dick into the throat of the bottle while holding it. With considerable exertion I get it done without a spill.
Task completed; I was back to trying to sleep. Not sure how long I laid there on my side, which was the most comfortable position before I drifted off, there are no clocks here, but it was a while. At least some of the girls that occasionally appeared on screen were hot from my perspective despite them being bound, raped, and brutalized. I can’t help worrying that I may appear in their future video clips being treated in the same manner. There were some videos that appeared to have been shot here.
Chapter 5: My Second Host Abuser
{Friday 7:00 am – 10:00 am}
Friday morning did come, although in this room with no windows you could not tell day from night. I was laying there somewhat awake but with my eyes still closed when I heard the dungeon door being opened, then the lights came on and I heard the main cell door opening and closing. The TV monitors are shut off and the sound system changed to quiet nondescript background music. I can hear other activities by whoever has entered but I can’t really determine what they are doing.
It took a little while, but eventually I heard steps coming close, so I made sure I was looking alert and ready to serve. The door is unlocked, and I receive a simple and direct order from who I assume is our other Host, “Come on out, bring your urinal if you used it.” There was to be no formal introduction. I retrieved the bottle and crawled out. He is naked but wearing a full black leather strap harness having straps over his shoulders and a strap that circles his back and chest connecting together between his pecs with a silver ring, with another strap descending from this ring to a second ring located just below the navel that connects a strap that circles his body just above his hips. From this ring another strap descends to a ring that encircles his dick and ball-sack before a trailing strap disappears between his legs. All these straps interconnect with like rings in the back. There is also a large buckle in both the front and back between the rings to help put on and adjust the harness. He is also wearing a leather submissive collar like mine but without an inscribed name.
“Time to complete your journal for yesterday and then your morning workout, follow me. Do you need to use that?” he said referring to the bottle.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied.
“OK, then stop and use it.” This is both embarrassing and difficult with my hands still secure primarily behind me as they were all night. As I struggle to reach around and align my penis to the bottle he says, “Hold on, I’ll get it.” He then takes the bottle, already partially filled with urine from last night, grabs my dick and sticks it in the neck of the bottle and waits. Talk about a shy bladder, made more difficult by the comment, “Get on with it we haven’t got all day.”
I eventually finished and we are on the move again with him carrying my bottle. More big-time embarrassment, I think by design. There will be worse to come. He takes me to the conference table where my computer is already open and plugged in. He releases my two wrist cuffs and tells me to sit down. After I do, he takes the now free cuffs and locks them to eyehooks in the table, one to each side of me and I am now unable to flee from where I sit. I get to writing, trying to recall every detail from yesterday and last night. I have learned the hard way how difficult it can be to recreate your story as Sir Michael will again want me to do if you don’t have a comprehensive journal containing activity and bondage details, pleasure and pain descriptions and my thoughts on what was being done to me. It takes a while until I get my ‘homework’ done. I was not rushed. I am unlocked from the table, cuffs reattached to me, and we walk to the cell doors, go up the stairs and exit the dungeon. We cross the hall to a door directly opposite from the one we are leaving and enter into a nice little gym. Little in comparison to the playroom, big for most home gyms. There are free weights, a few weight machines, an elliptical trainer, a stationary bike, and a treadmill. Mirrors adorn the walls. I am uncomfortable seeing my nakedness being reflected 360 back at me. The room has a cushioned mat type floor. And there is a dreaded scale, but everything else is nice.
“I understand you normally do stretches, work out on weight machines and sometimes use cardio equipment.”
“Yes Sir,” is my reply. He then uses an unlocking tool to remove my irons but then puts back on leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, locking them on with miniature locks through their hasps. Overkill, I think to myself. Then he secures in place a three-foot-long vinyl covered flexible metal cable between the wrist cuffs. He does the same with another cable to the leg cuffs. “Master wants you to do all the stretches you do at the gym. He then wants you to also use the elliptical for 30 minutes. Use the ‘quick start’ program. You should have ample movement in your restraints to get it done.” I was able to complete what was just demanded. The only issue was the plug that was still in my butt and was now irritating my hole with the friction of my movements, the original lube no longer effective.
Some things still are hard for me to understand. When I was done, the wrist and ankle cuffs were removed, and the original irons were put back on with each cuff and collar requiring the special tool to bolt them back together, then I was walked back across the hall into the dungeon where I was then taken into the wet room and stood in front of the metal Tee where the irons were again painstakingly removed and put aside and only to be immediately rebound here. I wasn’t going to flee on the short wall across the hall or likewise during the walk I had earlier to the bench. I had volunteered to be bound. Is this needed? (I learned later there wasn’t a security need to physically keep me bound, but a desire to keep me mentally bound. Mentally surrendering to the realization that one would never be free of their physical bondage helps a submissive realize the inevitability of their situation, succumbing first to acceptance, then enjoyment, and finally craving the sexual use and torture that gratifies the master. I was also told that keeping one tired, sleep limited, in stretches of solitude, and confusingly punished at times seemingly for no reason helps him submit to his total submission to his Dominant sooner, sometimes within a long weekend. That was their goal.)
I saw that there were now chains affixed to the four recessed securing points around the Tee and hanging from the ceiling rings over the first shower where there had been none at either place during the tour. Also, there were chains coming from recessed rings in the floor near the walls and aligned with the ceiling chains, securing points I hadn’t noticed before. I assume this was some of what he was attending to when he first arrived this morning. Shiny metal cuffs were then secured to my wrists and ankles. He maneuvered my legs wide and secured them to the outer chains and then pushed me over the Tee beam so that my belly rested on its cold surface and then secured my wrist to the remaining two inside floor chains. All done without any words exchanged. There would continue to be no conversation, just a few short commands.
The plug is abruptly pulled from my hole with a twist and dropped onto the floor. A dab of lube and then a rubber douche wand is inserted into my rectum, cold water jetted in, and a simple command “Push it out.” Which I reluctantly did, beginning the most embarrassing and unpleasant activity that I can ever remember. This went on for four, maybe five cycles of insert wand, squirt water and push out. I then feel a new dab of lube put into me and I am shown the long nosed rectal speculum that is about to be inserted and opened. That is followed by a long flexible vibrator that is also shown to me and then is maneuvered around deep inside of me for a time, circling and probing, then secured with a Velcro strap so it stays within me running. I’m informed the speculum and vibration is to help me drain as water flowed deep within my rectum and probably into my sigmoid colon. I’m told to help by pushing out about once a minute. I can feel a trickle, occasionally, run down my leg. The hose on the wall was then used to wash the mess on the tile floor below me down the drain as I remained bent over the stainless-steel Tee, secured and unable to flee. I was left there for maybe ten to fifteen minutes, stretched open, vibrated, and I guess, draining.
As I gaze around from my bounds, I see the cameras, the wet room is being recorded too. How gross. There is one pointed at the Tee from behind me, everything would have been in view. I felt like I wanted to cry, humiliated at what just happened to me and that it was recorded, maybe even being watched by others as I am held here.
He was back. The vibrator and the speculum are removed. I was told to “Push out again.” I did, and I can feel a little liquid, just a drop or two trickled out of my closed anus. I was lubed again, wand reinserted and three more, shorter cycles of insertion, water jetted in, and “Push it out.” It is followed by the reinsertion of the speculum and more vibration deep inside of me. Then something new is added, a sucking feeling and sound. A semi-rigid vinyl tube is being manipulated deep inside of me lapping up, I guess, whatever water remains within me. It’s just a minute or so of this action, then a removal of the tube, vibrator and the speculum. The hose again was used to clean the floor to the drain and this time to squirt down my butt and legs. The water was not warm. I am left again, this time for about ten minutes. He is back, and gives the command “Push out again.” I do. He runs his hand up my crack in an inspection sort of way. I appear free of any discharge. He is satisfied I am cleansed and dry.
He then puts another dab of lube on my hole and without mercy or remorse, unceremoniously pushes straight in another butt plug while announcing that “This one is yours. It is bigger than what I pulled out.” I had only brought two plugs, both Lovense Hush 2 Bluetooth remote control vibrating plugs. The larger one is 1.75 inches in width and at home it takes me a long time of a gentle slow in and out vibrating insertion to get it past my door. Because of the rough insertion there is instant agony and cramping as the thickest girth passes through till my hole slams shut around the thinner throat. It takes a while for me to catch my breath and for the pain to subside. Meanwhile, he unlocks my wrists and ankles, spins me around so my back is now against the Tee, re-secures my legs wide, pushes me backward against the Tee and re-secures my hands behind me so my privates are now being thrust forward.
My balls and crack are lathered up and I am carefully, gently shaved with a straight razor and rinsed. My bush is left untouched which was a Contract requirement. He moves to my face and does the same thing. I use an electric razor. On rare occasions I have shaved with a multi-blade razor, but this is the first time ever that someone else has shaved my face and with a straight razor at that. When he is finished, he methodically unlocks me from the Tee chains and moves me to under the ceiling chains, puts each of my arms up in the air and locks me to those chains. My legs are pulled apart and attached to the floor chains. I am now in a taught standing spread eagle. I am rinsed down with cold water from the nearby hand shower head, scrubbed all over with soap and re-rinsed. Then my hair was shampooed. I received a final rinsing, still with cold water and apparently left to drip dry. My shivering helps the water drip off my body.
It was a long time before the next return. All was dry by then, except my hair and leather Bitch collar which were still damp. He combed my hair. I was then released, which pleased me as my arms and shoulders were aching at this point from being held spread above my head. It was again back into the irons, and I was taken back over to near the refrigerator and conference table. He says, “Get down on your knees” and I comply. Using a dry measuring cup, I watch him pour out exactly one cup of Fiber One Bran Cereal and put it into a dog dish. He adds one half cup of almond milk taken from the frig. The bowl is sat down on the floor in front of me and I am told “You’ll want to eat it all, it is likely your big meal for the day.”
OK, this weekend is going to be a lot different from the time spent in San Diego. These guys are really treating me as a submissive, maybe lower than that. Having no options I lay down as best I can with my arms behind me due to the way the irons have been placed. I stick my face in the bowl and using my tongue and lips I struggle to eat. When finished, he pulls the bowl away and tells me to get up and go back to the wet room. He takes me to the sink, where he takes my toothbrush, puts a squirt of my Crest on it, tells me to open wide and proceeds to brush my teeth. He opens a bottle of water, brings it to my mouth and tells me to rinse. After that is done, he tells me I must take my meds. He has my two daily meds in his hand. He says, “Open” and drops the two pills on my tongue then brings up the bottle of water to my lips and pours water into my mouth. I swallow trying not to choke. He then says, “Open again, drops two more pills on my tongue and pours in the water. I look at him quizzically and he simply says, “Cialis.” The final “Open,” and my chewable orange gummy is dropped in for my consumption. He wipes my face, clearing it of both the dribbled toothpaste and the remnants of my slurping breakfast. No way to describe it other than weird, change that to gross. My morning routine turned into complete embarrassing humiliation. Later, upon pondering it I’ve come to realize many of these tasks I find revolting or disgusting may likewise be the same to him. He is subservient to the same Master at the moment, and this is a demonstration of his required servitude. I hope he is enjoying it. I hate it.
We leave the wet room again and he takes me back to the bed cage and I am told to get in, still confined by the irons. It is locked and he leaves the dungeon, turning back on the videos and killing the lights. My mind is racing as I detested my morning preparation. This treatment wasn’t in any of my fantasies, but here, it is part of servitude, so I must accept it. I try to think of it as one of my punishments. Maybe that is why they kept me in bondage during it all.
I divert my mind by watching one of the screens. Right now, it’s a naked woman being severely shocked in the pussy and on her nipples as she lays on her back locked down to an iron grid with evil looking metal restraints, holding her ankles, knees, hips, wrists, forearms, neck, and head. The grid sits in a rectangular metal basin filled with water so that it covers her up except for the tips of her toes, tops of her boobs and just enough of her face exposed so the water doesn’t cover her mouth, nose and eyes. There are even metal turn-screws going into her ears holding her down, while her mouth has a metal ring gag holding it open. Also fixed to the grid is an electrified bulging copper cone that protrudes into her cunt. It looks ominous and causes her to buck every few seconds as the electric pulses cycle back on. The look on her face is of utter terror and the shocks are so violent that her arching, repulsing body creates waves that cause water to flow into her mouth, making her think she will drown. Her screams are so disturbing I wish my arms were free so I could cover my ears. I watch, despite the violent torture, as it is captivating, much like a car wreck.
Chapter 6: West Bound Flying
{Friday 10:00 am – 3:30 pm}
It is probably less than a half hour when the lights come on, the videos stop and Master and Sir Michael release me from my cell. They are both wearing only black leather top harnesses and leather thongs, otherwise they are naked.
I am moved to the open area of the dungeon where the set of two cables dangle from the ceiling. There is a small wood stool that is about eight inches tall sitting on the floor between the two tethers. Laying next to it is a rigid metal frame made from some of the pipes and fittings I saw at the disciple wall. It is basically a tall narrow rectangle, about a foot wide and seven feet long. It has one cross member about halfway up the long side of the frame to add strength and rigidity. Protruding from the center of the top pipe and the bottom pipe are rings that look like they are for attaching the hooks from the cables. Sitting beside the pipe frame is a roll of black 18-inch-wide stretch wrap and a smaller six-inch roll. I’m pleased to see the rolls; my favorite form of bondage is being cocooned in stretch wrap. It is incredibly tight and provides complete captivity; you can’t move your limbs at all from your body when it is done right.
My irons are removed, I’m told to put my arms down at my side so that the palms of my hands touch the sides of my upper thighs. And the wrapping begins. Sir Michael is the one working the roll of wide black wrap. He starts around my upper arms, chest, and back, pinning my arms to my body as he circles me. He has wrapped me before in San Diego, so he knows what to do. I am wrapped tightly down to my waste. Master reaches between my legs, and I feel a momentary vibration in my butt indicating the plug was just turned on and is awaiting a remote command to activate the vibration in earnest. The wrapping is then continued down to my feet making me completely secured by the wrap. I’m tight but I still have flex. It is then back up all the way to my neck. There are three more winding trips down and back to assure complete immobilization of my limbs and body. There is no flexing now. They have achieved the cocoon tightness that I thoroughly enjoy when I am bound this way. I knew to expand my lungs with full breaths of air each time they passed my torso so that my chest would not be overly compressed and my breathing as a result would not be inhibited. For the moment I’m glad I’m here. I love this. I feel scissors cutting out my privates from the wrap and a hand pulling them free through the opening just made. My balls are then stretched down, and a cord of some sort is lashed around the bag separating my two testicles from the base of my scrotum.
It is then onto my head and neck. Sir steps up on the stool and he first tells me to open my mouth. He maneuvers a large metal ring behind my teeth. I’m told to not dislodge it. Now using the six-inch roll of wrap he begins at my neck where the larger wrap ended, making multiple circles around it as he wraps upward, using his other hand to form-fit the wrap to my skin. As he passes my chin, he tells me to take a deep breath. I do. He then makes multiple wraps around my face and head sealing off my mouth and nose. I cannot breathe. He is working quickly as he changes direction with the wrap, circling and pressing it to my face, fully encapsulating my head. The face wrap has a sensation of a laced-up tight discipline hood. It’s been probably a long minute, maybe two of me holding my breath for him to finish. He then instructs me to hold my tongue against the bottom of my mouth and he takes a penknife and slits through the ring. He quickly pokes his finger in the hole to widen it. I take a needed breath. I was not yet in trouble, but nonetheless glad to suck in some new air. With a pair of safety scissors, he cuts around the inner surface of the ring to make an ample circular airway opening. The face wrap emits some light, but I no longer can see anything. I can also not breathe out of my nose.
Two of them now lift me up and the stool is placed under my feet. I feel what I believe is the frame put behind me, I assume with the bottom resting on the floor and the top extending beyond my head. It is pressed against my back and held there by someone. The screech sound of wrap coming off the roll is heard again, and they begin to recircle me with it, this time capturing the frame as they go round and round me, pulling it tight to my back and legs. It is a total of four tight trips down and up, making me one with the frame. They tug on the frame, up, down and sideways; it is going nowhere without me and vice versa. I hear Sir say to hook the head cable line to the frame and it is snapped on. “Take it up a foot or two,” is ordered and I feel movement upward and my feet leave the stool. There is zero slippage of my body on the frame. “Now let it down so I can reach his head,” Sir requests and I am let down with the frame base hitting the ground then the frame tilting on angle as they let more line down. I am now within working height as I feel wrap being added to my head. He secures my head to the frame. My head isn’t going to move either. I am told a second time to take a deep breath, and the wrap goes again over my mouth as they continue their circles down to my neck. My time without air is much shorter. As before, he pokes through the ring, widens it, then cuts cleanly around the inner circle. I am pleased when he then with a little wiggling removes the ring from behind my teeth and pulls it free of me. Last time a ring gag was used when I was being wrapped and it was left in for the duration of my bondage which made my mouth sore.
As a final touch, Sir Michael takes the smaller roll of wrap and encapsulates my feet. “Can you hook up the bottom ring now?” he asks. And it is done.
They have been chatting back and forth all along, typically instructions and the like, but what caught my attention was the comment, “He’s ready, take him up.” And with that, one of the hoists came to life again and I am lifted upward. I went up for just a short time, I am now fully upright and there is a bit of swinging so I’m sure I am off the ground when I stop. I feel a pull on the cord around my balls. There must be a lead extending from the lashing which they were pulling. They are adding something to the cord, a weight, a heavy weight. There was a significant tugging on the sack to the point of being uncomfortable, painful.
Then I hear, “OK, take him to the ceiling.” And up I go. It stops and I hang there. I am swaying a bit, the weight on my balls swaying more and hurting, but there is no pressure on my body as the frame is holding me comfortably and absorbing the physical stress of being suspended from the cable. The plug in my butt roars to life. The vibration program they have selected to run is wildly stimulating. I get the ball pulling now, they are creating a pain/pleasure war in my groin. So here I am, tightly wrapped in plastic, my favorite form of bondage, but this is certainly a different application from my past experiences. I have always been bound and then laid down, sometimes secured to what I have been placed on like was the case at Sir Michael’s. This time I am upright, hanging in free space yet completely unable to move my limbs from my body. The weight on my sack has been put in motion and that in turn makes my body sway slightly. The swaying is pleasant, it could rock me to sleep, but the jerking weight is not. The vibration in my bottom, magnificent.
I am left to myself, just hanging. Seemed like forever. The solitude should be so peaceful, but of course my mind is spinning, jumping from hopeful fantasy fulfillments to come, to the possible torture horrors and then the thoughts move on to this morning’s activities I detested and back again to fantasies. A swirling circle. I must have been there for an hour or more, not nearly as long as I had been held in San Diego. I had moved into an almost trance-like state when I felt myself descending. I first feel the weight relieved from my sack as the weights touch the floor, then a second or two later the frame reaches the floor, and they stop.
“It’s lunch time. Open your mouth and suck this down.” What is squirted into my mouth is two small pouches of baby food. These are very popular today for feeding toddlers vegetables and fruits. I have no idea what flavors I was given, they were bland, but that would be my only lunch. Wanting as much nourishment I could get I found myself sucking on the bag’s nozzles to get the last drops from the pouches. I am then given some water to finish my meal. I feel someone grab my dick. It is shoved into the neck of a urinal, and I am told to pee. Again, I have no idea of who is handling me or watching me, so I have a difficult job making this happen, especially with a buzzing in my butt. but eventually I got it done. “He’s done and ready to go back up.” I think it was Master’s sub.
I hear Master say, “Take the scissors and put slits by his eyes, so he can see the sky view of the dungeon.” And my vision was somewhat restored. Up I go to the ceiling. It is quite a sight, a tad blurry, but I can see it. This room is truly amazing and large if you are into bondage and BDSM. It dawns on me this is the first time I have been bound this way and not blindfolded. Another unusual sensation peering out from an encapsulated shell.
I hear from the floor, “We will be back, we are going to have lunch. We got you on camera.” They weren’t kidding that I was on camera, as I look around from my elevated vantage point, I notice that they seem to be everywhere. Looks like one is pointed at almost every device or piece of bondage furniture. One is pointed at me. A bunch of them are at the ceiling level and another set about eight feet off the floor. Seems like nothing is out of the watchful recording eye. I watched the two masters and the sub walk away, see them go through the cell door and lock it, ascend the stairs, open the steel door and exit. The door is closed, and you can hear them engage the three slide bars. I’m the only one in the room, I am completely bound and immobile and tethered on a cable to the ceiling, dangling from what I guess to be at least twenty feet from the floor. Was locking the doors necessary? Yeah, I get it. It’s part of the dungeon experience.
It must have been a good lunch as they were gone a long time before they returned. My bonds are tight, but I am not suffering nor is my breathing being overly restricted by the wrap that is tight around my chest. The frame is taking the burden of my suspension, I am comfortable. I have acclimated to the weight pulling on my balls. They have either gone numb or I have just forgotten about them. The vibrator is also continuing to buzz me, but has fallen into the realm of background noise, barely noticeable now, still pleasant.
They return, but no attention is given to me. I am left there to be in solitude, but I notice while I gaze down that there is some action starting down below me. Master is strapping his partner onto the solid-sided pegging bench. The sub has a partial mask on, and his head is being secured to the head rest. Sir Michael is there and is massaging the sub’s back and neck. That goes on for about five minutes when he moves around to the captive’s butt and begins to finger him.
It is peculiar watching this while being bound tight up above the action. I’m not a voyeur by any means, especially not interested in watching gay sex, but there isn’t anything demanding my mental time at the moment, so I watch. Sir Michael is working the sub’s butt with his fingers just as he had done in San Diego to me. One finger working him in and out, then two fingers in and out, appears to be gentle. He works for a while, then its three fingers. He adds some lube from a jar on the floor. I see some thumb work being done. He is taking his time loosening up the hole.
Eventually he gets to the main event. The Dom host comes over to him, gets down on his knees and begins to suck Sir Michael’s member. This guy, unlike me, knows what he is doing when it comes to sucking cocks and can take on Sir Michael’s very large swollen penis. It’s just a few minutes of sucking when he withdraws from Master’s mouth and adds a few hand strokes of his own to his full erection as he places a coating of lube to the surface of the head and shaft. He moves into position, uses his thumb again to make an initial opening assault, then lines up his dick head and pushes in, slowly. He gives it a moment and then pushes in a little further. Another pause, a little retraction, then forward again. He does this several times till most of his dick has been swallowed by the butt in front of him.
As the sub settles into the rectal assault, the pace picks up, the insertion takes the form of deliberate thrusts, that though even secured to the bench causes the sub to lurch forward and groan with each advancing thrust. After a few minutes, the Master moves to the head of his sub who opens his mouth on command and takes his Dom orally. He is being taken in both holes while bound. This of course is one of my fantasies that I have already experienced for real now in San Diego. I don’t know if it is one of his fantasies, but it is happening to him, just the same. They go at it a while, but neither seem to climax. I think that’s the plan. It’s a long weekend, they would not want to waste the limited number of climaxes men can generate so early. They finish up and the sub is released. I just hang.
Then finally they are back to me. My tether is dropped so I have now descended about ten feet, still far off the floor. I hear a winch again and this is the cable they have attached to the bottom of the frame which up to now was just hanging limp. As the cable rises to the ceiling my feet are pulled upward. This cable hoist is mounted on the ceiling about ten from the one holding the top of the frame. The way my captors have attached the frame to the cable swivel hooks I am flipped over and facing down as my body reaches horizontal. The cord and weight attached to my sack is swinging wildly due to the body reversal movement. Nothing like bringing pain to the forefront of a scary change. They go past horizontal and take my feet up close to the ceiling. They then drop the top cable down, so I am now fully suspended upside down, high above them. With my arms strapped to my sides, it is my head that is the lowest point. The cord and weight are settling down with the cord now pressing against the side of my face as it passes by me and dangles below.
I can see it clearly now. They have attached a round free weight from the gym, the rope looped through the center hole and tied holding it fast. It is still swinging slightly. Blood begins to rush to my face and head. I won’t be able to handle this orientation for long. I hope they get that. I’m sure the Master does. This cable setup was seemingly designed for this kind of body hanging. He is experienced and would know the likely limits of inversion hanging. I’m finding mine fast. At least they aren’t going anywhere. In fact, they are watching me closely. I’ve been facing downward for less than a minute when they start to lower me. They take me all the way down to where my face is at waist height of the boys. “OK. Here’s the plan, you are to suck all three of us till you make the blood rush to our dick heads. You need to do that before you get too lightheaded from the blood rushing to your head. You probably have about five minutes, maybe six, so you better work good and fast,” Master advises.
Instantly there is a dick at my mouth. Worried, I take it in, sucking and licking as best I can. He stayed just about a minute or so, I'm pretty sure he was not very hard as he pulled out. Quickly in comes dick number two, I think this is Master’s. I again lick and suck, using my lips as well as my tongue, trying to bob my head but I have almost no movement because of the tight head wrap. He grabs hold of the frame and gently pulls it back and forth, so I get the movement I was trying to achieve. I can feel the flushness in my head, it’s distracting and unpleasant. Master stays about two minutes and I can tell I have made him somewhat hard. He releases his grip on the frame and pulls away, and tells me, “Well done, you got one more.”
This one truly frightens me. It will be Sir Michael. His size will fill my mouth and as such I will have difficulty trying to breathe. I can’t use my nose, it remains sealed. As I feel his cock at my lips I take as deep of a breath as I can and open my mouth wide. He pushes in and I can tell he’s soft. He, like Master, grabs the frame and starts it moving back and forth. I press my lips as tight as I can around his shaft and press my tongue against its bottom. He does the work, but the complete fullness deep in my mouth is giving me the sense that I am about to gag. I do what I can to control the impulse. Sir must sense this, as he pulls back and stops his thrusting. He stays there just a moment or two longer as I lick him, then pulls out, still mostly placid. I gasp for air. “Cunt, someday you will learn the skills to properly service me. You’ll have to if you want me to keep you as my submissive,’ he declares. I’m sure I’ll be paying later for this failure.
“Ok, he’s experienced what inversion sex is like, make him horizontal,” states Master. And I am very happy, as the upside-down position was getting overwhelming fast, despite the diversion of having three different unwanted dicks in my mouth in the course of under five minutes. If sexual abuse is your wish, then this is a prime example. Though, on the other hand, it was kind of cool, frightening, but exhilarating too. My feet are dropped as my head is raised and I am now prone, face down. The tight wrap keeps me straight thanks to the frame above me. The weight hanging from my balls is again swinging wildly as my orientation changes. I am raised back towards the ceiling, so the weight is about at the head height of my abusers, enticing them to play with it.
Master decides the weight should be swinging more and sets in in a wide circular swing path. My groin aches. It is about then when someone decided to change the program in my butt plug. It isn’t any stronger, but the change in rhythm provides me with a new sensual stimulation which helps combat the ball weight. There is less of a concern by the trio of this position, so I am left to endure it for a while. I know I have been wrapped for more than three hours as I notice the vibrator has stopped teasing me. It has a battery duration of about that amount of time, and it has now gone silent. I am kept flat for about, I guess, thirty minutes, maybe forty-five when I hear, “It’s about time to get him ready,” and I am dropped down to the floor with my feet lowered first. When I reach the floor, the bottom cable is disconnected. The head cable remains so the frame and I are still held upright.
Master’s sub is given the task to free me from my plastic wrap bonds and the frame. First to be removed is the wrap around my feet, which is cut off easily with safety scissors. The stepstool is then placed under my feet so that when I’m freed from my slightly elevated position on the rack I will not drop and fall. The first removal is easy. He cuts up the back of the frame, close to one of the pipes where the wrap doesn’t touch me from my ankles to my head. This wrap pulls free of the inter wrap on my body without difficulty. As he separates me from the frame, he steadies me with one hand, and he pulls the mount away from me with the other. He then bearhugs me and lifts me off the stool and stands me on the floor.
He then stands on the stepstool and starts cutting at my mouth hole, slitting along the sides of my cheeks with the safety scissors to the back of my head and down the back of my head to my neck. Then two more cuts are made from the mouth hole going past my eye slits and to the top of my head. He carefully and slowly peels the wrap away from my face and off the back of my head. Relief. Next, he moves to my neck, cutting down towards my shoulders and continuing with a slit on both sides all the way down to my waist. He makes two connecting cuts around the front of my body, one at my pecs and one just above my hips, going from one side slit to the other. Slowly and carefully, he peels the left side of the uppermost wrap from my chest and shoulder, then repeats the peel from the right. This leaves the wrap still clinging to my back. He drops down to the next cut sheet, goes left, then right making my stomach and side arms free of material. My hands and lower body are still held. He then goes behind me and beginning at the top, works on freeing my back, by rolling down the sheet a few inches at a time releasing my upper torso. The cool air is refreshing on my sweaty back. I truly love the feeling of the tight wrap, but I enjoy just as much the feel of liberation after being wrapped for hours.
He then goes to work on my lower body, starting at my waist making a slit all the way to the bottom of my left leg then a second down my right. He makes two lateral cuts across my privates, I guess to make the pull away easier. He peels the wrap from the front of my legs and waist. Even though he is close to the end he goes slowly and carefully, making sure none of my skin is harmed. And the wrap is off. Freedom.
I take my arms and stretch them above my head to reduce the new cramping and relieve the aches, but they are grabbed, pulled behind me and cuffed with double lock handcuffs. I was told on the onset that I would be in bondage the whole weekend. So far, they are being true to their word. The silent butt plug is pulled, its exit not nearly as painful as its entry, and is put in a plastic bag. Finally, he unties the loops of cord from my sore, stretched scrotum. Master then comes back and attaches the nearest winch hook to the chain between my cuffs and sends the cable skyward till my arms are pulled up behind me, forcing me to bend over. My Bitch collar is buckled back on by Sir Michael then he rubs the leather thong covering his dick against my face and mouth. You can feel the bulge.
Chapter 7: The Welcoming
{Friday 3:30 pm - 7:00 pm}
As I semi-hang there, a general cleanup is going on around me with the stretch wrap gathered up and put in a trash bag. The other winch cable was sent to the ceiling. My bagged butt plug carried off. The weight and rope that battered my bag stowed. They all head off in different directions, missions unknown to me. I even heard someone leave the dungeon. I also hear water running in the wet room, but I can’t see what is happening there. I am tethered here probably for a good half hour or more. I have no sense of passing or real time of day at this point, other than it must be mid, maybe even late afternoon if they had fed me around noon. Only my arms are secured, so I can move my feet around and twist to help keep from cramping, but semi-bent over is a strain. Hey, bondage is your life’s fantasy, this is what you dreamed about, physically suck it up I caution myself.
Eventually I hear Master announce, “It’s time to get you set-up to meet our play party guests.” I become restless over what ‘set-up’ means. It starts simple enough with my stretch wrap matted hair bushed. I then feel lotion being applied, first to the back of my neck, across my shoulders and down my back. My nose picks up the scent, suntan lotion. Not sure what this is all about. It continues until 100 percent of my body is covered, less the soles of my feet. Yes, my privates included, though no arousal was attempted, just adequate coverage. I am unhooked from the cable. A black leather half hood is put over my head. This one has open eye holes and comes to the bridge of the nose and partly down the cheeks. My nose and mouth are completely exposed. Laces pulled tight in the back make it a snug skull cap.
I am walked out of the dungeon and back into the house. We go all the way back through, headed for the foyer, then on, out the front door, with me quite naked other than my leather Bitch collar and hood. I am now uneasy with my nakedness. We proceed down the beautiful entryway stairs and wide paver brick walkway and stop a few yards from the driveway loop edge. There on the walkway is the one-hole prison I was shown on the dungeon tour. My mind flashes to the Contract where I know this device is listed as a bondage choice matched with arms secured behind the back, the way mine are now. This one has an adjustable pole to position it at the perfect height in a vagina or asshole. Still mounted on top is the progressive steel ball dildo. It has a swivel attachment where it connects to the pole so that it can be set at the perfect angle to properly penetrate deep into the butthole. The adjustable pole was welded to the center of a three-by-three-foot metal base. Also welded to the base at the center of two parallel edges are securing mounts to which each had attached a shiny metal ankle cuff on a short chain that matched the pole. The pole was in a lowered position.
I am positioned directly over the penetrator as I was expecting. My legs were then spread to reach the cuffs, and they were locked around my ankles. I was told then to stand on my toes and blocks were placed under my heels to hold them up. Some lube, not a lot, is placed on and in my hole and the pole is raised. The dildo is maneuvered into my rectum and the pole pushed up. As the larger balls from the bottom of the stack are forced by my sphincter and up my anal canal there is ensuing pain. The dildo is hot from being in the sun, for how long I don’t know and that adds to the discomfort of the wide penetration. Once it has somewhat bottomed out in me, the set-screws are tightened down on the pole and the swivel with a large Allen wrench, so I am firmly stuck on the dildo, powerless to lift myself off of it. My own body is serving as the weight to hold the base and pole stationary. The blocks are removed from under my heals and I am told to drop my feet down flat. This pushes the dildo even further into me. This supplies more discomfort and pain as my sphincter is stretched wider to accommodate more of the large ball it had been partly consuming and from the additional extension into my rectum. I can tell immediately that this one pole prison will serve as conceived. I cannot escape the device. There is no way for me to get the elevation needed to step up and off the dildo. Add the restraints of my cuffed hands and feet and my body weight holding the base fast to the ground, this is a perfect simple but elegant prison.
With the physical bondage finished, it is time for my mental fretting to begin. I am in fact outside, in front of their home. I look out, it is quite a distance to the street with lots of vegetation and geological features to obscure the view, but the main road is there, and I can see it. Can I also be seen from that distance by passing cars? My hosts don’t seem concerned. Plus, there is the driveway. Anyone could drive up. To myself, ‘Hey I’m naked guys and can’t hide!’
My thoughts are interrupted by instructions from Master, “You are to greet each of our guests as they arrive. You are to say: ‘Greetings. You have my Master’s permission to sexually use and punish me as you wish all weekend. It is my desire that you do so. Your hosts welcome you and wish for you to enter, they are inside.’ I will repeat it for you and then I want you to say it back to me.” He does and I do, and he is satisfied. “You keep practicing it. They will be arriving shortly. There will be four couples, each a Dom and a sub. You may answer a Dominant if they ask you a question. Call them Master and be completely respectful and submissive. The subs won’t ask you anything.”
They go inside leaving me naked, except for my servitude leather collar and hood, outside by myself for the world to see, or at least to anyone who wonders by, stuck on a pole deep in my ass. I am so fearful someone will come by. I’m sure I am still under the watchful camera eye of my masters, but being found like this by someone that were not the weekend players would be mortifying. What happens if a Girl Scout selling cookies happens by? I reason this nervousness is exactly why they planned this for me. I’m glad they put lotion on me because the sun's hot rays are beating down on me. No one comes early, I wait a while for the first arrival. I work on purging my mind and try to distract myself by taking in the desert vistas. I am facing the large fountain and gardens that fill the loop. Both the hardscaping and landscaping were beautifully done and well maintained and watered. But the sun is bright, so I close my eye lids, resting my eyes as well as protecting them from the rays.
I hear a car coming up the drive and the chills from anxiousness run up and down my spine. Subconsciously, my body tries and fails to step up off the pole. The result being a tinge of pain in my hole. They turn into the lane to the house and circle around the loop and park behind Sir Michael’s rental car. This couple appears younger than the hosts and me, maybe in their early forties. Both are in casual dress, golf shirts and fancy jeans, but one sporting a leather collar of a submissive and toting a gray equipment case and a rolling suitcase. The dominant has on a baseball cap. He’s maybe five-eleven or six foot tall, his mate a little shorter. Both are average build, reasonably good looking I guess, nothing remarkable. Their eyes are on me as they approach, checking me out as I do them.
I announce without making eye contact, “Greetings. You have my Master’s permission to sexually use and punish me as you wish all weekend. It is my desire that you do so. Your hosts welcome you and wish for you to enter, they are inside.”
“We've been looking forward to doing just that,” was the reply. They stop in front of me, give me a thorough visual inspection and then he adds, “Yes, this is going to be a fun play party.” They enter the house. One down.
It is probably fifteen to twenty minutes for the next car to come up the drive. I’m getting hot and hope this will be over soon, at least we are about halfway there now. They are in a vintage Corvette. Beautiful car. As they drive around the circle, they pause when they see me, then park their car with the others. The Dominant in this couple appears to be in his late fifties, while his sub looks about forty. They are wearing shorts and fancy Tees. These two are both fit, they definitely seem to hit the gym regularly. The collared sub is also the one handling the luggage. I would describe the Dom as distinguished, handsome. He sports a neatly trimmed mustache. The sub, I’ll call ‘cute’ and on the petite and slender side of body styles.
“Greetings. You have my Master’s permission to sexually use and punish me as you wish all weekend. It is my desire that you do so. Your hosts welcome you and wish for you to enter, they are inside.”
They stop and eye me up and down. He says to his sub, “He’s a little on the small size don’t you think? It should be saluting us though, make him salute me.” And without any hesitation, the younger man puts down the suitcase, kneels in front of me, puts my flaccid penis into his mouth and begins to suck me in earnest, using his tongue and lips aided by some fingers on one hand as his second hand massages my balls. He’s good and I can’t help quickly getting a Cialis aided erection. When I do, he leans back, displaying his work to his master who says, “That’s better. Let’s head in.” And I am standing outside alone again, my moist and now fading semi-erect cock glistening in the sunlight.
A short time passes when I hear another vehicle coming up the driveway. This time it’s a van. Oh shit, it’s a Prime delivery van. It’s my nightmare bondage fantasy come to life, where a stranger unwittingly happens upon the bound helpless person and takes advantage of them in some way. Again, I try to remove myself from the pole, but it is impossible. Please go right, please go right, please don’t see me I beg. Wish granted, the van heads to the garage to make a delivery, and leaves without approaching me.
I am perspiring, from both the fear I just had of unwanted discovery and the desert heat. It is just a little while when a third car arrives. This couple appears to be Sir Michael’s and my age, between forty-five and fifty. These guys are leather boys. Bigger, heavier looking men, I’m not sure it’s their actual size or from how they are dressed. Their clothes reflect the look of many of the men who were in the leather bar that Sir Michael took me to, to be abused in the Hillsdale gay area of San Diego. A real macho look.
They are more what I expected to see when Sir Michael talked about coming here, and yet, not what I really wanted to show up. And that simply was because I think, without basis, that they may be more aggressive and punishing towards me, especially since I’m straight. That is unfair of me because I have no firsthand knowledge of people that practice this lifestyle. So, I do my duty and say, “Greetings. You have my Master’s permission to sexually use and punish me as you wish all weekend. It is my desire that you do so. Your hosts welcome you and wish for you to enter, they are inside.”
The reply, “Well, in the position you are in you don’t have much say in the matter,” and he reaches in for my right nipple, grabs it and gives a pull and mischievous twist. “Yea, we’re going to have a lot of fun with you, I love fucking a helpless man-cunt, oh yeah, a naked cunt that can’t resist, what could be better? I’m going to make you dance in your bonds!” and the pair enters the house. I am hoping he is just role playing for my benefit, otherwise, crap.
It feels like an eternity waiting for the last couple to arrive. My butthole has become sore from my pole sitting. Standing so long in the same position is hard on you. They do come and they look like they came straight from work. They also have that ‘we are running late’ look. They are the youngest of the couples, both look like they are in their mid to late thirties, one just a little older than the other. I may be wrong, never have been good at guessing ages. But they do have a youthful look. A successful look too. They are both toting regular wheeled suitcases. Maybe they brought their toys and play clothes. This is the first couple where I cannot tell who the Dominant is. These guys are tall too, both must be over six feet, and both very fit looking. Sir Michael is going to like playing with these guys. They are chatting as they approach me. “Greetings. You have my Master’s permission to sexually use and punish me as you wish all weekend. It is my desire that you do so. Your hosts welcome you and wish for you to enter, they are inside.” One says to the other, “I love coming here, they always have something different and new for us to do. This is going to be great.” “Yeah, he does look like he’s already suffering on that pole, imagine what he’ll be like after we all fuck and whip him. You know he is straight, don’t you?” And they enter.
Chapter 8: And the Boys Begin Their Play Party
{Friday 7:00 pm – 11:00 pm}
Evidently there was no urgency for me to be back inside as I was left on my pole for what I guess was another half hour. I was finally retrieved by Host Master’s sub who unlocked the ankle cuffs, released the pole extension and slid it down, pulling the dildo from my abused butthole. “Come on, we need to get you ready to be our party favor. You need a shower and a cleansing.” I am taken back inside all the way to the wet room, hands still cuffed and hood on. There I was restrained as before to receive the same basic cleansing and shower routine I had been subjected to this morning. I also had my penis held as I peed into the plastic urinal. The humiliation of it all is tough to bear.
I am left hanging in the shower bay to drip dry for about fifteen minutes. I’m then shown an intimidating black heavy leather discipline hood. It has metallic rings around the eyes and mouth. It laces up the back and tightens more by three fierce looking lockable leather buckle straps with the neck collar belt provided with 3 D-rings. The eyes can be covered by an attachable blindfold, while the mouth can be stuffed with its silicone gag, each held in place by using the upper leather belts. He puts it over my still damp hair that he had just combed and laces it up getting a glove like fit around my head, face and upper neck. Next, he buckles down the neck belt and puts the blindfold on and buckles that down too. He keeps me without the gag, at least for the time being.
I am mostly dry now and I am detached from the shower chain, hands cuffed behind me and led back into the main play area. There I am positioned under what I discover is the cable winch that is equipped with the cross bar and suspension cuffs. The cuffs are removed and my wrists are attached to the suspension cuffs. Another set of leather cuffs are fastened around my ankles and locked to a spreader bar which is extended out about three feet. The winch is then retracted till I am stretched up so that my heels are raised up, but my toes and soles of my feet are still in contact with the floor, but just barely. My body is taught. I recall this apparatus was in the center of the dungeon. My guess is I was put here as I will now be at the ‘center’ of the dungeon’s entertainment.
“Everyone is out on the deck about to eat dinner, so I am going to quickly feed you so I can join them.” The first entrée of my two-course meal is squeezed into my, another toddler baby food pouch, this one definitely a veggie pouch. The second course is an energy bar that I take small bites, chew, and swallow as it is held up to my mouth. It is followed by a whole bottle of water. He adds his final touches to his party favor by hanging two items from the rings on my collar, I can’t tell for sure but as they dangle against my chest, they feel like a riding crop and a flogger. Do we really need to provide both the suggestion and convenience to our visiting tormentors? And, then he is off to enjoy his dinner and socialization. He doesn’t say goodbye nor good luck or have fun, he just leaves. I hear both doors being closed and locked.
More time to think about all the things in this room that could be used against me. On one hand it is exhilarating for me, it is the stuff that I fantasize about when I practice self-bondage or when I do the occasional masturbation in the shower. But on the other hand, this stuff is real and meant to restrain and then torture the victim, me. Shortly, it will all be real and not a fantasy. I remember San Diego. Now I will be with pros. I will be made to suffer and serve; how much I will know soon. I hang for almost an hour, I think, before the sound of the doors being reopened startles me back to the reality that it is time.
It is not a stampede, from the sound of it they come in as small groups. I waited, but not long for the first interaction. It comes via touching. Someone is inspecting me. They are rubbing my body with their hand. The wandering hand moves across my chest, over my shoulder, down my back. Then up my crack with a finger, over my hips and down to my penis and testicles that are fondled, enough that my dick even stirs just a bit. Then back up my chest to where he finds an interest in my nipples. The whips hanging from my neck appear to be in the way and he maneuvers them around, so they are now hanging down my back. Now unblocked, he starts nicely caressing my nipples one at a time, but that moves on to light pinching, pulling and twisting. He moves to doing both simultaneously and as this becomes more zealous my body reacts and tries to pull back. The immediate discipline for pulling back is nipple clamps. My nipples, one at a time, are pulled out taught and twirled between his fingers, followed by the distinct painful feel of a clamp being applied. These are of the twist down type having an outer circle frame that holds two inter textured plates that take a firm grip on two sides of the nip and are cranked down tight together with an adjustable thumb screw. This design allows the tormentor to continue to tighten together the grip plates to whatever nipple pressure and pain level that amuses him. I am being attacked in stages, a turn of two at time, then a wait for the reaction, and after the pain appears to subside, another turn, maybe two.
As one of the more painful adjustments is made, I unconsciously cry out in anguish. I hear, “You need him gagged?” There was an apparent nod yes, as I’m order by Sir Michael’s voice to open my mouth. The middle strap of my hood is removed. The sizable silicone gag is stuffed into my oral cavity. The detached strap is threaded through belt loops of the gag’s outer leather covering and then reapplied around my head and buckled tight, forcing the gag deep and unyielding into my mouth. I am relieved that it was applied by my own master, he will keep a close eye on me gagged as I am.
I think I have tough nipples and pain control, but it is not too many cycles more of tightening when he knows he has won, and my lesson learned. That doesn’t mean he then takes them off or lets off some of the pressure, and he doesn’t.
This user abandons me, and it is a couple of minutes till my next visitor stops by. Must be a butt enthusiast because that’s where he spends his time. Initially it is just rubbing my checks and running a finger up and down my crack. He then reaches for some lube, greases up his finger and slips inside me. (I don’t have any idea where he got it from, I will come to find during the weekend that lube is near at hand pretty much anywhere in the playroom.) He explores. Then he uses two fingers to explore and caress my colon. Not a first-time explorer he finds my prostate and after some quality fondling starts to excite the area enough that my cock takes notice and grows, not rigid, but in the game. He must have noticed, as he reached around with his other hand and began to play with me dick and balls. Now I am hard, and I feel my body trying to move in motion with his front hand work. He increases his back door efforts while stroking my member for a minute or two more and then abruptly stops. It takes a few seconds for my own body motions to stop. I had been rising up and down on my toes, the only real movement I had with the restraints that held me. I was expecting a punishment for that, but none really came.
I can hear activity around me. I know I am going to be used all weekend, but I am not an exclusive play toy. There are four Doms and four subs here by my count, plus, Sir Michael and the hosts. They are here to fulfill their kinks and pleasure themselves. When I can be useful as the object of a particular desire for them, I will be utilized. Otherwise, they will be amusing themselves and each other in this awesome, dastardly place. I try to listen to the sounds, one to distract myself from ongoing thoughts and the body aches from the stress of the bondage, the other because I have a vested interest in what may be happening to other submissives on the floor. From the conversations, it sounded like a sub was about to be subjected to riding the wooden horse. I have compassion for his plight. Then again, if these guys are as heavily into BDSM as they appear, maybe this is something he is looking forward to, besides, I’m sure this isn’t the first time the horse has been used here.
My attention is drawn back to my own situation as someone is asking, “Can he be dropped down to his knees, I’d like to use his mouth.”
“Yeah, but he’s gagged right now, you have to take that out.”
“Then never mind, I’ll just use his butt for a while.” Whoever this is, has come around to my back. My bottom is fondled a bit, then a hand is put around my waist to hold me while I am penetrated not so gently by a dildo. It seems like one of the natural shaped dongs with a hand grip extends from it. I am pegged with it for almost five minutes, sometimes in slow motion, sometimes fast and furious, always deep enough to be uncomfortable, and at times painful. I don’t really know anal/rectal canal anatomy well, but I think there are two chambers, it feels like he is penetrating into the second room. I worry, but then think they likely would not sell these if the length would harm you. So, I suffer in silence.
He stops, I assume because his arm gets tired. Turns out that it was because he wanted to put his own cock in there. The dong was to loosen me up. Standup penetration in the butt isn’t easy, but the attempt is made, with penetration accomplished, and fucking action somewhat achieved. I can tell he isn’t getting much satisfaction out of this. I wonder if his real goal is to use me for the sake of my fantasy, not his enjoyment. I appreciate it in a weird way. He stops after a short fuck session, gives me two hard smacks with his hand, one on each cheek, says “Thanks for the free fuck, Cunt,” and wanders away.
Unfortunately for me someone has finally taken notice of the whips hanging from my hood. The riding crop has been selected and the initial target is my butt, where three precise hits are landed on the lower portion of my right cheek. The same location on the left cheek is then punished. He moves lower catching the rear of my right inner thigh with this hit also coming from behind. Two more are landed. These strikes are slow, intentional, calculated, both the intensity and landing spot. He continues with the left side and when done moves around me. The front of my inner thighs receives the same strikes. Every one of them stings when they land and takes more than a few seconds to dissipate. Painful as these are, the real test of my ability to absorb this torture session comes next and I fail. The next series is delivered to my scrotum. The angle of swing is adjusted so the three hits will land squarely on the balls so maximum effect can be obtained. My legs collapse after this first hit finds its sweet spot and I am hanging solely by wrists. I scream out, but the very effective gag muffles it completely. He does not relent, just simply adjusting his swing again so hits number two and three find their target too. I just remain collapsed and hanging limp. Then with no comment or sign of any regret, he reattaches the crop to my hood and goes.
It takes a good minute or two before I even attempt to stand up erect and get some of my weight back on my feet. I’m not sure if it was mercy or not, but I am left alone for maybe fifteen minutes. I feel my arms dropping as the cable is lowered. When there is enough slack to allow it, I am told to get down on my knees and I do. The cable height is set to keep my arms still in the air. I feel the buckle of my gag being undone and the gag is pulled from my mouth and as it is I’m ordered to keep my mouth open. The insertion gag is immediately replaced with a large ring gag that is forced behind my teeth and buckled behind my head. I own ring gags as part of my home toy collection, but this one is wider than mine. My jaw feels stretched. Of course, there is a reason for the gag as someone has stepped up in front of me and put his prick through the ring into my defenseless oral opening. He makes a few somewhat awkward thrusts and says, “Can you pull him up some, he’s too low for me to fuck his mouth.”
Someone else takes control of the winch and I am pulled up about a foot. This raises my knees off the ground. My feet are angled out behind me still cuffed to the spreader bar and can provide just minimal support. I try to stand up some, but my tormenter pushes down on my shoulders holding me at the height I’ve been set at. His rock-hard cock is again pushed into my mouth, and he is now able to fuck it properly. But I am almost completely suspended by my wrists that remain connected to the bar above me with suspension cuffs. These cuffs help, but my shoulders and arms start to burn after about a minute. “Lick it Bitch. You need to lick it, try to use your lips.” With the extra size ring gag the lips can’t make contact. I try to concentrate on getting him off and not on my arms. I’m thinking the quicker I can get him out of my mouth the quicker they will let me out of this position. I’m trying my best to not call out Yellow. My tongue action on his shaft is doing something. “There you go, you can suck dick or at least lick it, I knew you could.” But he’s still pushing down on my shoulders which is helping me fail quickly in my hanging. I try to push through my arm agony which is now radiating down my sides. I use my head to bob forward and back trying to make contact with my lower lip that I am pushing up and out the best I can. It’s only been a short time, probably four minutes or less, my arms would claim it was hours, and I feel him start to tense up. He slows and I think he is going to cum. But instead, he makes a few last glides across my tongue, and he pulls out. “Good job Bitch, you really got me close. Too early to blow a load yet. OK, take him back up if you want.” And I am pulled back up to a standing position.
Chapter 9: Creative New Ways to be Broken, Exploited, Used, and Abused
{Friday 11:00 pm – Saturday 2:00 am}
I am standing for another good fifteen minutes when I feel my arms dropping again and they are lowered to a position in front of my body. The suspension cuffs are removed, only to be replaced with handcuffs behind my back, I must be on the move again. Instead, I’m told to sit on the floor and rest. They help me sit down. I would like to stretch out my arms, but I am happy with this. I sit for about ten minutes when one of those weird moments occurs. I am told to get on my knees, and I am helped up to that position. I am then told to have a drink. I recognize this as the voice of the host sub. Using a squirt bottle, he is able to pour water into my mouth at a pace that allows me to continue to swallow gulps without choking until the bottle is empty. Now the weird moment, he takes my penis and sticks it into what I guess is another urinal bottle that he is holding and tells me to pee. I have no idea who is watching so it is slow coming. But soon as I am able to start going, I hear a command from him to open my mouth. Confused, I do, and when I do someone steps in, pulls my head forward and pushes his dick into my mouth. I freeze up momentarily. My bottle holder tells me to suck the cock and keep peeing. I’m so surprised and stunned, but at least he isn’t peeing in my mouth which was my first thought of what was happening, and I start a reflex licking motion on the shaft in my mouth.
I’ll review, I am naked, with both my ankles bound to a bar and my wrists handcuffed, blindfolded, kneeling on a floor while another man, who also may be naked, is holding my dick in a bottle and having me pee in public, while another likely naked man, who I don’t know, is making me suck his cock. I have many bizarre bondage fantasies about me being bound and forced to perform unwanted sexual acts, but never have I dreamed of something like this. I am acting on autopilot. I do actually get some pee out and when I’m done, he pulls my penis out of the bottle and at the same time the cock in my mouth is also withdrawn and the owner steps away. Like I said, weird, which is an understatement.
With the rest period over, the ankle cuffs are detached from the spreader bar and my ankles. I am helped up to my feet and walked over to one of the pegging benches. I am assisted onto the bench where my handcuffs are removed and the leg, chest, arm and head straps are tightly fastened. I think this is the solid side bench. I know this position well at this point, but it doesn’t stop the natural reaction of trying to pull free of each of the bonds. Of course, none of them yield any movement. I’m told once again to open my mouth, and the same large ring gag is set behind my teeth and fastened around my head. With that in place I know my mouth is as vulnerable as is my butthole. I again listen to activity around me for a while without anyone engaging with me. A good thing, I needed a break to get my head back into the game.
Something seemed to be happening right beside me. If the room had not been rearranged, what was next to me were two more pegging benches. It sounded like someone was being fucked next to me. The action sounded hot and heavy. It went on for a long time, maybe a full half hour. I don’t know how someone can keep going that long, but both the top and bottom sounded like they were loving it. There was enough time of them doing it for someone to push a vibrating dildo up my butt and play for a while and someone else to give me numerous swats with a flogger to my genitals and butt cheeks. The butt screwing next to me finally ended with the groans of ecstasy.
A minute or so later a cock is put through my gag and into my mouth. A winded voice says, “Clean me off, Bitch, my sub was dirtier than I like.” On my tongue was a wet, slimy penis. The slime I quickly assumed was not just cum, cum that was discharged into another man’s dirty, lubed ass next to me. The cock had been pulled out of his hole and put into my mouth. I was completely repulsed. I tried to pull my head back, but it was firmly secured. The cock remained. My pull back attempt was rewarded with a hard smack with a riding crop to my butt. I bucked and I still did nothing with the cock that remained. My mind was racing, trying to decide if I wanted to end all of this or not when I was hit again.
I was working on getting to the mental point to push ahead and start licking when Sir Michael whispered in my ear, “It’s OK, you can do this, everybody here has a cleaned butt, he just playing with your mind, it’s no different than if it was in yours, you’ll regret it later if you cheat yourself of this experience and quit. Do it for me.”
His locker room peptalk provided the needed reassurance to charge ahead and properly lick clean the cock in my mouth, now aided by the cock’s owner gripping my head and forcing it to move up and down on his member. The number of different men’s cum via a variety of methods and cavities I have taken is growing. They all taste slightly different. This one primarily has a flavor of a bland lube intermixed with cum, but perhaps with something else too, as I now have a slight bitter taste lingering. The pep talk may not have been completely truthful or accurate.
I remained on the bench without being used for enough time to clear my head and returned to the place of looking positive about the weekend adventure. Really nothing has happened that didn’t meet the basics of what I wanted and that was in the contract, be bound, be forced to service or be sexually used by people I don’t know, and to be disciplined as a submissive should. I think I deserve to be punished for my hesitation and resistance to the last event. There are a lot of hours still ahead of me, I’m sure I will be punished for it. All my punishments can’t simply be to bring pleasure to the six Masters. I’m good.
Thoughts are playing in my mind of how many creative ways these six might discipline me when I am startled by someone touching my butt. A moment later I felt my cheeks being spread by two hands and my exposed crack being stimulated by a long stroke of tongue. Up and down, circles around the anus, darting of the tongue into my hole. For the next five, maybe ten minutes I am given a rim job. My first real one by either sex. His tongue sends shivers down my spine. This feels good. His strokes going wide and then coming back tight in. I have goosebumps. I get semi erect. I fantasize that this is a gorgeous woman in leather boots and corset doing this to me and I start to get hard. He adds sucking and French kissing my hole and my thrill increases. It must have been noticeable to others because it abruptly came to a halt, and he backed away. A few seconds later I begin to get whipped with a flogger against my butt crack, balls, and cock by upper whip swings of medium intensity bringing a quick end to my joy. The whipping became a fast pass by pain/pleasure to a distinct stinging agony.
It doesn’t go on too long, probably no more than a minute of hits. I am then told by one of the Masters, “The rim job was a reward to my submissive, he never got to rim a straight before, but you were not given my permission to take joy in his kink. Next time ask.” Lesson learned, remember I’m new to this and don’t know all the rules.
A well-presented fully accessible bound butt is too hard to pass by if you are drawn to ass fucking. As such over the course of the next two hours, maybe longer I provided my hole to their cause. No one stayed long, unlike the thirty-minute folly that happened beside me, but some of the boys used me for a good ten minutes. No one has ejaculated in me yet. Two guys used my mouth afterwards although there was no cum and minimal lube on their cocks. Likely it was to degrade me, like a good sub should be. There is no avoidance possible, the ring gag makes my oral cavity as available as my anal one, and just as safe as I can’t bite anyone. I was surprised that my mouth was not being used for blowjobs. I think it is because with a ring gag you cannot do a good job, and with my butt just as available it is probably for them a better deal.
The presentation that my butt makes when on the bench is also too hard to resist if landing a whip is your thing. This is a BDSM crowd, it’s their thing. I was here to serve as the featured entertainment and got to serve in that role numerous times with a riding crop or a flogger. One of my floggers when they finished with me twisted and screwed the handle up my butt and left it there so it would be handily available to the next visitor. Luckily it wasn’t a thick grip. My whipping abusers always seem to have similar routines, starting with my back and butt, touring my body but always finishing at my balls, cock and crack as a crescendo to their work. One master seems partial to spankings. I got one long sustained one that really reddened me up, and what I believe was the same hand, would give me reminder slaps of two or three each time he passed by. I guess my bright red cheek color would fade, and he likes rosy cheeks. The excitement for me remains being unable to resist the use and abuse and I concentrate on that, regularly testing and enjoying my struggle against my restraints. I will say, as things progress, I prefer being screwed than whipped or sucking cocks. Now that I am stretched, it even provides some pleasure, certainly distraction, just not arousal.
Unlike San Diego, where I was deprived of my hearing for much of the time, such has not been the case here. When I am not being used, I try to listen to what is happening around me, I have no sight. This room supports a lot of simultaneous activities, and the party players are certainly taking advantage. There are punishments being administered and bodies being sexually used throughout the room. Listening crystalizes that I am not the only submissive serving the masters, but I am likely being utilized more than anyone else. And I believe that was the Host’s plan.
One of the last interactions I had during this round on the bench was one with another master who was being serviced by his sub, I think again on one of the benches next to me. I don’t know if it was orally or anally, most likely it was both. Whichever, I think the end was orally by what he was saying to his mate, something on the order of, “Yeah that’s it, that’s good, oh yeah, oh yeah, I’m almost there, tighten your lips, keep going, keep going, oh, oh.” Then in an instant he is in front of me just in time to place his pulsing cock through my ring and ejaculate into my mouth. I am obviously startled and not amused. He is pumping his shaft with his hand as he takes multiple shots into the wide round opening that is unable to close. A strong squirter, the warm loads are going deep into my mouth, back to my throat. My head secured, there is no pulling away from the unwanted assault. As he dumps his load he switches his verbal comments to me, “That a boy, eat my cum, take it all, oh you do love it, I knew straight boys crave cum, now don’t dare let it drip out of your mouth or your ass and balls will pay, that’s it, use that tongue to hold it in, swallow it Bitch.”
I’m amazed by just how much cum he produced, it’s a volume I couldn’t match. And while I’m amazed, I am also somewhat sickened. I’m still a newbie to having to swallow cum, and don’t want to, I don’t know how girls do it, and this is by far the greatest quantity I have ever taken. Both the thought and the physical handling of it is making me nauseated. As upchucking would be worse, I do all I can mentally to get it under control, to which I was successful. In the meantime, he rubs his dickhead over my lips and across my checks as the last few drops of semen are discharged. He makes one last request of “Lick my slit,” making it easy by reinserting his dick into my mouth. I then hear him say as he walks away, to whom I assume was Sir Michael, “He’s great. Do you have any other straight friends like him? I want one.” I believe this guy was the macho leather Dom that twisted my nipple when he arrived. I would have many more interactions with this ‘chatty’ Dom over the course of the weekend, just as he promised.
After a time of no use as I must have become boring to the party folk in this position, I was released from the bench, have my blindfold and ring gag removed before I am re-cuffed and walked, squinting with my light shocked eyes and hobbling from my somewhat cramped legs over to the bed/cage/stockade.
Chapter 10: Unwelcome Cuddling
{Saturday 2:00 am - 4:00 am}
My transportation wrist cuffs are removed only to be replaced with hospital style leather cuffs. They are secured against my sides with a leather belt that circles my waist and is locked behind me. Matching cuffs are put on my ankles and laced together with a leather belt like the one that holds my hands. This belt allows my feet about fifteen inches of space between them, which if I spread my legs would give me enough movement to shuffle along. The vision I had just regained is lost again as a new full leather hood covers my eyes as it is pulled tight to my face and laced up the back. It also has a belt and buckle that goes around the neck that is secured. This hood has no gag, my mouth is accessible, much to my relief, for now. My shuffling capability won’t be needed as I am spun around, backed up to the bed and laid down onto it. I am positioned on my back in a sleeping position with a pillow placed under my head. There is a D-ring on the hood’s neck strap that is then tethered to the headboard and will be the only restraint keeping me on the bed.
I lay there for a few minutes, waiting for something to happen to me, not believing my tormentors were going to give me sleep time on this reasonably comfortable mattress and with somewhat docile leather bonds holding me. While things have begun to settle down for me, I can hear that there are other activities still happening in the dungeon. I decided to make an attempt to nap.
But I am correct, I have not been put here to sleep. I feel the mattress depress as another person climbs onto the bed. Instantly I can tell he is completely naked as whoever this is lays down next to me, pressing his body up against my side. I can feel his privates against my leg, his arm now reaching over my chest and resting on it. He pulls me tight to him. Very noticeable is his silkiness, he feels shaved, in that I mean his body, his limbs, his privates are completely smooth. Odd as it is being held this way by a man, the smoothness has made it more peculiar, but maybe a little better.
I’m held for a couple of minutes, then his hand starts exploring my chest. It’s kind of a gentle rubbing, a tender, affectionate massage of my chest. Some toying with my chest hairs, then a circling of my nipples ending with delicate pinching, squeezing and twisting by one hand as his other pulls me tight in a hug. I am being cuddled. My reaction: my body tenses up. I don’t believe my body pulled back, but I did internally. This was creepy. A naked man was caressing my naked bound body.
He began to explore my body further, moving his hand first to my face, tenderly touching both the leather hood and the exposed lips of my clenched mouth. His open hand then traveled south gently rubbing my chest and belly till he reached my groin where he slowly began fondling my balls and flaccid cock. The stroking of my body wasn’t unpleasant, but made me uncomfortable, so it wasn’t enjoyable as he intended it to be. My dick did become somewhat aroused from the attention when it was being fondled, but certainly at the moment was not hard.
Undeterred, my bed suiter continued to massage me head to toe, now using both hands when fondling my nipples and package. He repositions himself and lays down on top of me, using his body to rub me and hold me tight providing more hugs. He rose to a straddle position over me and began licking my body, spending much of his initial time sucking on my nipples, before he slid down and began licking my shaft and ball sack. All very gentle, lovingly performed. His sucking, which even in my dislike, brought my member to life and I hardened. That reaction seemed to be to my suiters liking and he swung around so that he was now in a 69 position, retaking my cock into his mouth and pressing his against mine. I know that by contract I must take in this offering, and I open my mouth for him. Again, another first, I am doing the proverbial 69 with another man. I certainly have done this much to my enjoyment at home with my wife, but this provides me with a thrill simply because I am being made to do it in my leather binds while trapped underneath him. I concentrate on my restricted arms and feet, and I am able to execute the required oral actions as I imagine in my mind that this is a clit I am licking and sucking, not a cock. The 69 goes on for just a few minutes, with no real attempt to reach climax by either of us, when he spins around again, laying on top of me and resuming his general cuddling and fondling activities.
Based on his other actions, I am surprised that he hasn’t attempted to kiss me on the lips, a ‘Hard Limit’ item in the contract unless he is disease free and otherwise resides on my ‘Activities Not of Interest’ list. Sir Michael can move at his sole discretion anything on that list to the acceptable list if he decides it is pleasurable to him per the contract, but he does know it is something that even watching it occur between two men repulses me. Not a moral issue at all, it is just a big, big turn off to me to watch, I don’t know why. Not sure how Sir is going to play this. This guy is doing everything else that an affectionate gay couple would do, even including whispering sweet nothings into my ear, so I am amazed I haven’t been subjected to a kiss regardless of my feelings. I know that I would not kiss back if it happened despite the consequences.
There are times where I am just held, times where I am lightly caressed and times where the action gets heavy, and in time I maybe even try to relax a bit, but I overall remain anxious, stiff, I think noticeably. He stays with me for almost an hour, when he is then joined by another. This person too begins with exploratory caressing, somewhat in unison with his partner. They work so well together I wonder if they are not real partners, Dom and sub romancing me together. As the pace picks up the first caresser discreetly departs, giving me a final affectionate hug as the second provides attention to my privates.
I am still tense and still not overly finding this enjoyable, but at least I am getting used to it now. That allows my tired body and mind to recuperate some from the night’s earlier uses and abuses. My body is not being assaulted and there certainly is no pain involved. This gentleman is more into the sex than the first was. He spends more time in the 69 position, working me harder and making his cock dance more in my mouth. He also explores with his fingers further below my sack, probing for and finding my hole. In time he penetrates me with one, then two fingers, swirling around within, stimulating my prostate, while sucking me deeply, lovingly.
When he is apparently satisfied that I am stretched, I am rolled to my side. He snuggles up behind me, bending my knees, putting me in a side squatting position. Lifting my one leg slightly he puts a little lube in my butt hole. (I am still not sure where he got the lube as he never left the bed.) He positions his erected cock between my hind quarters, spreads my cheeks and presses it up against my hole. With expert hip movement he penetrates me, and I am slowly fucked sideways. He keeps me within a tight embrace as he moves slowly in and out of me. The gentlest I have been pegged this entire weekend. Everything is gentle, tender, comforting, pleasant. If I were gay, this likely would be a memorable evening. There should be candles burning on the nonexistent nightstand and music playing in the background. He is enjoying me; he is making love to me; he is not just trying to use me as a handy receptacle for his cock. And his plan is to go all the way with me through to his orgasm. He takes his time, but the climax eventually comes, and he deposits his semen into me. He is in no hurry, so his dick remains in me, as he continues to caress my body with his hands and arms, holding me tight as you would a lover after a night of passionate lovemaking.
His time with me is shorter than that of my first cuddler, cut short I think because the time allotted for this session had elapsed. He withdraws finally with a sigh, leaving the impression he wanted to continue, I get an ending hug, and he slips off the bed. The past two hours I will record as ‘interesting’, a challenge this time to my psyche versus the body. And a needed respite. I am stood up still with my arms bound to my side, feet hobbled, and blindfolded, butt filled with cum.
It dismays me that I can’t say I enjoyed this. I liked that I was bound, I like that I was fucked while bound, somewhat tied to the bed I was in and not in control, I enjoyed struggling to pull my arms away from the belt that bound them to my waist as I was caress, but that is the extent of it. I sense these two guy’s goals were to stir romantic type reactions and desire in me or tease me with it, but the arousal that one has when making love to a mate they are attracted to was missing here and always would be. I hope this was a performance by both of them as part of the ‘abuse and tease the straight guy by forcing him to make love to a gay guy playdate’ theme and not connected to any real attraction.
Chapter 11: Disciplined for the Sin of Another
{Saturday 4:00 am - 5:00 am}
“You come with me,” I am ordered by a different master, this one being the one I recognize as the youngest master in attendance. I am taken, shuffling with my tied ankles, over to and stood in front of what ends up being the Pillory. “I have caught my submissive partner eyeing you up at least twice this past evening. Gazing constantly at you with his lustful eyes as you enticed and made love to other men on the bed.”
To myself, ‘I entice who? You’ve got to be kidding!’
“I will not tolerate my property to ogle a straight man when his attention needs to be on the service of his master. To teach him, I will punish what has caught his eye, and that my cunt is you. He will watch and feel through you, my irritation with him.”
Again, to myself sarcastically, ‘Yeah, that seems just, reasonable and fair.’ Obviously, not all of my mind has succumbed to being a full-fledged submissive for the weekend, at least not yet.
My ankles and wrists are uncuffed and then my arms and my hooded head placed within the cutouts of the bottom board of the standing pillory. The top board is dropped in place and locked down. I am trapped by the pillory’s design as the creators envisioned its use. My legs are spread, and my ankles re-cuffed and secured to the side posts with extended chains. I am again unable to resist any abuse about to come my way.
The master has his sub kneel in front of me. He tells him, “Take his cock into your mouth, hold his shaft just past his dick head with your teeth, do not suck him, do not excite him, just hold him with your teeth so his dick cannot pull free from you.” I then can feel the master buckling tight a wide leather strap around the back of his sub’s head and my waist so that the sub cannot pull his mouth off my shaft that is now entirely in his mouth.
My anticipated whipping begins. He is working my shoulders, back and butt with a slapper. He is skilled in its use and the stinging sensations grow with each added hit. You can feel his rage, it’s not contrived. When the strikes land, I buck causing my cock to rock forward scraping over the clasped teeth of my new partner, as he holds his position. The master works me for a good five minutes, not rushing his hits, making quality placement more important than quantity of hits. My dick suffering along with my back as his sub is holding my dick fast in his teeth as ordered. The master then moves around the pillory, and I assume he is going to go to work on my chest, but instead his new target is his sub’s back and butt. No warning is given and with his first hit, the sub clenches down his teeth hard in reaction, biting my rod about halfway down the shaft. A second, slightly stronger hit, and a second bite. And so it went, with each hit he uncontrollably clenches tight his jaw and we both suffered. His biting was painful, although he never bit hard enough to break the skin or do real damage, this thankfully because his teeth were already grasping my cock somewhat tightly before each strike. The master went back and forth between our two backs till he was satisfied.
“Did you learn your lesson?” the sub was queried.
“Yes Master, I will not eye straight men when I should be giving my attention solely to you, I desire only you and crave your bondage and punishment” replied the sub.
“Good,” then after a short pause and reflection, the master adds, “You know, I’ve been fucking this cunt’s tight ass and having my dick in his mouth all night, he’s pretty good. You should suck him and see if his dick is as good as his mouth and ass,” continued the master.
“Only if that pleases you,” was the respectful, somewhat gleeful reply. This offer made no sense to me seeing that I was just punished because this same sub was supposedly eyeing me, but this whole new gay BDSM world is confusing to me.
Now I was being sucked by a bottom who loved to give blow jobs. With the meds in me to help make me hard, I was rigid in no time. Now came the task of doing everything I knew not to cum as I didn’t have permission to climax. It was getting intense, despite the tenderness of my shaft where he had been biting me, real intense, I was getting close to blowing my load. I called out, “Master, Sir Michael, may I cum? Please, may I come?”
A stern “No, you are here to take cum not give it. Do not ask again!” was Master’s response along with a hard slap with a hand on my right butt cheek. I channeled the smack along with everything else I could to divert my mind to other thoughts to keep myself under control. I surely have done things like this to hold off a climax when my wife does me. This should have been easier, it was a guy doing me, but it wasn’t. It took a merciful “That’s enough bliss for him, do me now,” by his master to end my stressful dilemma.
Chapter 12: Two Holes, No Waiting, Then a Wash
{Saturday 5:00 am - 9:00 am}
I am taken down from the pillory and moved to a pegging bench with my hands cuffed as is the custom behind my back and still blindfolded with the open mouth hood. With my hands as they are, I am assisted up onto the bench. Picked up and dropped onto it by two guys may be a better description of how I was placed on the bench. Between my stint in San Diego and here I have done a lot of time on this apparatus, it seems to be every master’s favorite piece of furniture in the bondage world. It makes sense. It is easy and quick to secure the submissive, it is reasonably comfortable, the sub can tolerate being restrained for a long time, it adjusts easily for all sizes of Tops and Bottoms, and most importantly it makes the mouth and butt very accessible for penetration. It also presents the butt in a perfect position for whippings of all kinds. My teeth are secured open with a metal frame style ring gag, held in place with a leather buckle strap around my head. The hood’s padded leather blindfold helps keep secret the identities of those who will now use me.
The boys had been promised someone new and different to use any way they wanted as their entertainment for the weekend. Here was another opportunity to try out new BDSM interests with someone helpless without consequences or just to enjoy their old favorites. Now restrained on the bench for their convenience my holes are then played with by what seem to be mostly pairs. I have no idea if they are Doms and their subs, or groups of Doms, but they principally worked me two at a time using both holes at once. Not to my liking, they would switch off with each other, changing positions so that I would be forced to suck a cock that had just been pounding my butt. Back in San Diego the mouth/ass rotation repulsed me. My hesitation and resistance to it resulted in punishment. Now I have grown to accept it as part of my submissive life for this weekend, the memories of those past penalties helping in that growth. And so far, other than from the cum and lube they have put my butt, I believe I have not soiled their cocks. While I hate the cleaning process, I’m pleased my Host attendant is very good at making me thoroughly hygienic inside.
Often instructions by the person at my head were given to me on how they desired to be sucked. No one was abusive, just looking for good feelings. With a ring in my mouth, I’m not very good at giving effective blow jobs, not that I am any good at it without it. Sorry boys, your cocks still haven’t grown on me. I keep working at it to better live the fantasy, at least for now, of a worthy bound submissive. One of the guys with a longer dick did cause me to gag a lot. He tried to adjust his thrusts, but he’d forget while working me, and I’d be hacking again. My problem, not his, to deal with. I found I do best at taking as much as I can if I hold my chin down. I thought it would be the other way, arching back, but for me, no. Because I am tied down tight to the sturdy bench, there is limited movement forward caused by the rear thrusts. I’m thankful for that as I am not being bounced forward at the same time a cock is being thrust in my mouth from the opposite direction.
I hear one of the pairs chatting about the desire to try to cum into me simultaneously because ‘The bitch would love it’. They used me for a while, each using both ends twice before deciding it was time to get to their discussed wish. That takes some control by my butt attacker and some hand work by the front man, however they are successful, as within a second or two of my butt being creamed, my mouth got similar spurts of semen. With the aid of his hand pumping his shaft and a mouth held wide open by its gag, he was able to propel his cum deep into my mouth and part way down my throat. This helped me for when his order to “Swallow it Bitch” was commanded, it was easier to comply. It is tougher to swallow with a ring gag in place, especially thick sticky stuff. These two were the only ones to cum in me as a pair on this adventure on the bench.
I’m not just ass and mouth fucked. For example, after my butthole was filled with semen, someone gave me a butt crack and hole licking. I assume they wanted me to remain clean. I also had my dick masturbated once till I was hard and breathing heavy before they stopped. My immediate punishment for me getting an erection was a trio of whacks with a leather paddle on each of my butt cheeks. I assume the pleasure, then punishment was planned as they seem to come from the same person.
Even Sir Michael used me, my mouth that is, not with his oversized cock but with his ball sack. He came up tight to my face and told me to stick out my tongue. First, he held up his shaft with his hand and ordered me to lick him. I did the best I could for a few minutes when he repositioned himself, squeezing his balls through the ring gag and told me to suck on them. Interesting, strange, not necessarily easy with the ring holding my jaws wide. Plus, I could not breathe, and he knew it, but didn’t speed up his retreat. I noted too, that while Sir sports a full bush, his balls, at least at the moment, are clean shaven. I got praise so it must have done something for him. I think with Sir Michael, forcing his straight long time best friend to perform sexual acts on him and making me suffer gives him a rush regardless of how good it actually feels.
I was left to myself for a couple of stretches, I would listen to others playing, they were making the most of their time in this adventure land. I would drift off for a few minutes, who knows, maybe it was more, till the next users needed my pleasure holes.
My final nap was interrupted by a master discussing with another about a new inflatable dildo he had purchased for use on his sub. “I just went and got it from my room as I was thinking, why not try it out first on Bitch’s hole to see what kind of reaction to expect? When I first saw this online, I knew I wanted it. Look, it’s damn near ten inches before you pump it up and watch this, it grows to about sixteen inches long when fully inflated. Bitch is way too small for all of this, but I think we can still get it partway in him uninflated, it's stiff enough. After it’s in, it will be hoot to watch him struggle against the bench when I pump it a couple times and it grows longer, it’s got a real nice high-quality pump and valve.”
“You should show it to the cunt, so he knows what he’s about to take on, fear is part of the adventure,” suggests the other master. My blindfold is raised for the moment, and I see the shiny black horror in his hands. The tip is like a traditional butt plug with a tapered tip that flares wider as it approaches it initial two-inch length before quickly narrowing, however, this one after less than a half an inch begins to flare wide again growing within an inch to the same width, reduces again, and repeats for its full ten inches, creating at least six, maybe seven swells on the shaft. A lengthy, multiple tapered bulbous link style butt plug that will be menacing both going in and coming out. And with its pump, it is designed to grow.
I was well lubed and digitally stretched before they started pushing it in me. Amusingly, the master put on a latex surgical glove to finger me. Not so amusingly, he balled up the glove and stuffed it in my ring-gagged mouth when he was done where it stayed till this little adventure was over. The butt plug insertion was initially no worse than the other plugs I have endured as it slid past my sphincter providing just a little stretch pain. I felt my door close around the first knob as the narrower throat goes by, but I quickly felt the pressure again as the second link widens my hole as it takes its turn to pass, causing me to flitch as the bulge slides by and then reduces again. And then again, expansion, pain, and closing. This repeated over-stretching sensation with its subsequent ache followed by relief as the narrow throat passes by on this multi-link dildo is a good representation of enduring/enjoying sexual pain/pleasure. This plug was not as rigid as the solid ones I had been assaulted with previously so it took more finesse in moving it forward, some in and out action, some twisting, some stretching my crack with their fingers, some coaching of ‘push back, relax,’ some chastising of ‘Come on take it in Bitch, you want this cock up your ass,’ and then more lube spread around the shaft as it penetrates me. They are working hard at reaching their goal, some preconceived depth. They go until there is considerable back resistance, it seems to have bottomed out deep in me. My guess is that they were at the junction of my rectum and my sigmoid colon, you know, where it makes a sharp leftward turn in the colon. I was now uncomfortable, had internal pain, like they were in me too far, if that is possible, and they took notice of my reaction. It was the depth not the girth that was bothering me. It caused me to moan and buck, which I guess was the sign they were looking for to stop. “He took more of it than I thought he would, better than half. He has a decent size rectum. Looks like only three rings are still outside. He must have sucked in a good six, maybe even seven inches. Excellent.”
They left me alone for a few minutes, maybe five, then they returned. I sense I now have an audience. They start. I think three pumps the first time. It caused a little widening in girth, definitely firming up the dildo, but what got my attention however was its lengthening deep inside. The width and firmness, no real problem. The push in, a definite weird growing sensation with both pain and stomach queasiness. I bucked on the bench. It took a minute maybe for it all to settle down. A minute or so after that, another pump. Similar reaction. I moan and am directed to stay silent. “Be a man and take it, don’t be a pussy,” I am scolded. Recovery and another pump. The cock was not widening much, if any, it just kept growing in length. My sphincter and rectum were holding it tight, and I believe my handlers were applying forward force too, so there was no backward movement of the cock within me. I think it was two more pumps this time and I had minimal reaction. The dong I think is naturally flexible and apparently it had successfully made the turn and was again free to elongate along its new open path. The pain has now subsided, and the queasiness was settling down. I did feel full. “Are you OK,” I was asked. For the moment I was, so I replied a tentative “Green,” gargled through my glove filled, ring gag mouth. That resulted in another full pump. Then one more. “I think we should stop there; he’s new to all of this.”
They seem to depart. I think I was just left to myself, bound to the bench to contemplate the very full, needing to ‘go’ sensation, with a touch of queasiness deep within my gut. With my butt fully plugged I at least knew no one was going to come up and fuck me, my butt was occupied as it had never been. It was Sir Michael who paid me a visit a few minutes later and announced that I could add another first to my list, that being ‘deep penetration’ and he was hoping I was having as much fun as the rest of them seem to be having with me. OK, so what they just did to me seems to have a name, not sure if I’m fond of it. At least I’m entertaining the boys. And just for sport he tells me it’s his turn, and he adds his own squeeze to the bulb, as he grips my scrotum and gives it a firm yank and a hard twist, then one more final pump squeeze, before he flicks my bag and departs with a laugh saying “Damm, you are a sick puppy. After all these years I still don’t get why you want me to do this to you.”
I have again been left alone. It seems quiet around me, like I’ve been abandoned. I listen, the dungeon has gone silent. Strange. I ponder just how long the toy in my butt has grown. With all those pumps it surely has stretched more than just a couple inches. Not exactly sure how you could measure it without pulling it out, expanded. I don’t need to know that badly.
It probably was a good fifteen minutes that I stayed deeply pegged on the bench till someone came up to me. My new visitor was my Host sub-morning attendant. As he pulls the used glove from my mouth he says, “It’s time for your morning routine. Do you want to keep that nasty thing in your butt while you work out? Don’t answer, that was rhetorical. I’ll check with your master and mine as to what they want done, it’s not your choice to make. I’ll be right back. They are with the others eating their breakfast.”
He wandered off. I was surprised at how talkative he was. I got the answer of what was to be done via the toy’s owner returning to retrieve the cock. He first deflated it some but not completely, which caused an internal sensation like an uncontrolled bowel movement coming down. This feeling got even more disturbing as he extracted it out, with each bump on its shaft causing that pop and go dump sense as they individually cleared my anus. He took his time, slowly pulling it along. I was both concerned and embarrassed that as deep as it had been in me it would be soiled. I also anticipated it being shoved in my mouth to clean it off once free, a horror that mercifully did not occur. When it was finally out, the master returned to his meal without comment. I was released from the bench, stood up, and hands cuffed by my attendant.
It’s off to the gym, the walk being awkward and uncomfortable as my now swelled empty colon tries to adjust back to its pre-invasion condition. My exercising was tentative as I knew my butt still had cum and lube from my bench ass fucking and it felt like my sphincter muscles had not yet fully closed my anus. I tried to keep it clenched as I stretched, worried that I would leak onto the floor. At present I don’t feel clean, and I have no interest in licking up a mess. It is then onto my shower and cleansing, breakfast and meds, etc. One new distraction on this morning’s cleansing activities was when I was strapped down on the Tee, I saw that one of the subs was on the floor secured to the restraint hooks that surround the nearby toilet. Funny, my thoughts were not about what abuse or tasks he may be performing there, but that he could see and hear what they were doing to me. An audience I did not want. To my dismay, during my time there no one interacted with him, so it gave him ample free time to watch me. I was better at eating out of the dog bowl this go around. Cleaning my colon by another still sucks but I don’t mind the shower afterwards despite the cold water as being hung spread eagle is a turn on. I’ll never get used to someone else brushing my teeth or giving me a shave. When he was done with me, I was moved, cuffed of course, out of the wet room and over to the evil-looking discipline chair. The man tied to the toilet remained behind.
Chapter 13: Sipping a Cocktail in the Chair
{Saturday 9:00 am – 12:00 noon}
In San Diego, my time on ‘the chair’ was probably the easiest stint I had in bondage there as I was simply strapped to the device and watched ‘women in bondage’ videos for two hours. I hope the chair time in Vegas will be just as pleasant, likely it won’t be.
I am assisted up onto the chair and my ankles promptly cuffed in leather and secured to the chair legs by Master, assisted by a second master, his friend who arrived first to the party. The pole pegs are then inserted beside my knees so that my legs are spread wide and my privates fully exposed and vulnerable. Leather straps are then added over my thighs to secure them to the seat planks. My wrists are uncuffed from behind my back and positioned onto the arm rests and are held down with wrist cuffs padlocked to eye-hooks protruding from the sides of the arms. Leather straps are buckled around my forearms near my elbows and the arms of the chair. A three-inch collar is buckled around my neck and locked to the back rest pulling me to it. They add a leather belt around my waist and behind the back rest to keep me in a square and upright posture in the chair. I test my restraints and find that I am as expected firmly held. Whatever is planned for me, there will be no escape. That excites me as well as makes me anxious. The masters then add a ball gag. This one has multiple straps that, as they are buckled, pull the large ball deep and tight into my mouth. My tongue discovers a small hole going through the center of the ball which I think is to aid in breathing. I will soon find out that the assumption is incorrect.
Next, Master’s sub takes hold of my cock and places it into a large plastic urinal and I am ordered to pee. Well, I didn’t really need to go, so I struggled and nothing for the moment came. Master threatens me that if I don’t pee, he will insert a catheter to get the job done. That threat helps and I do get a little to come out, but obviously not enough to satisfy him. He calls out loudly for all to hear, “Okay, Bitch will not empty his bladder for me as I have asked. Will the other masters allow their subs to urinate in his cup for me? I would like a contribution from each of them.” Four subs immediately report for duty and in front of me each ceremoniously pisses a little into the cup, filling it well past the halfway point of the quart and a half container. The fifth sub was currently strapped to one of the benches, so the urinal was taken to him, where he too added to the brew. It was brought back to where I was and Master added his own, topping off the bottle so that it was completely filled. “You know, if you had done as I asked, all you would have had to handle was your own. Now, my sweet prince, you enjoy all of us. Every drop!” snickers my host.
I am not happy. It is obvious that I am going to be abused with the collected liquid, be it bathed with it or made to consume it. Neither is on my top ten list. In San Diego I experienced this. I lived, but it was not pleasant. In my journal I had mentioned my disfavor of its taste, and I speculate this is why I am about to be tortured by it again. I also recall being told by Sir Michael that piss play was one of Master’s submissive training methods and that is where the suggestion had come from to do it to me in SD.
I soon find out where the urine will go. He gets to work, showing me and explaining the delivery device as he sets up my planned torment. He has a disposable clear silicone two-quart enema bag with a six-foot vinyl delivery hose equipped with a precision yellow stopcock tap. He shows me each detail of the unit. After making sure the valve is closed, he pours all the collected pea cocktail from the urinal into the top opening of the bag, nearly filling it. He adds about ten ice cubes into the liquid, pushing them through the opening one at a time, saying that piss is more refreshing cold. He then corks the top of the full bag with its breathable screw cap. He hangs the bag a good two feet above my head with its attached steel hook to the top of the chair back. At this point I think this is going up my butt, a urine enema.
Next, he takes a long-tapered vinyl tube that came with the enema kit, normally used as the anal insertion probe and pushes it into the hole in my ball gag so that it protrudes fully through the hole and into my mouth by about an inch and a half, coming to rest on the back of my tongue. It appears I am wrong as to where it will be flowing. The taper makes the tube very secure and leak-proof within the ball hole. I can feel two, maybe three small openings at the tip of the tube. I assume they will spray pee across my tongue to give me its full essence. Clear packing tape is then wrapped around my head and face so that the ball gag is sealed to my lips to keep any liquid from seeping out. Anything that now flows into my mouth must be swallowed as there is nowhere else for it to go and I know my mouth can hold nowhere near as much as was just poured into the bag. He then attaches the hose to the taper tube in my gag. The assembly is loaded, cocked and ready.
Testing of the system commences. Initially I get multiple short bursts of pee as he bleeds the line of gravity feed liquid. I quickly swallowed as I didn’t want it to remain in my mouth. Urine isn’t awful, but not pleasant either. I spoke about it in my last journal, it’s a little bitter, this time it’s salty too, a sour flavor, hard to describe. I have tasted my own a couple of times before as I played my home bondage games, and then had it squirted in my mouth directly from its source when I was bound by Sir Michael and one of his friends in San Diego as they waterboarded me. Sometimes it has a stronger taste, usually earlier in the day. I guess it depends on how well one is hydrated and how long it has been resting in your bladder. It’s still morning so this vile bend of six others and some of my own is a little strong. My taste buds are retaining the flavor. For the moment I’m fine. Happy? Hell no, but fine. I get another flow, a burst at first that slows to a trickle then stops. I swallow again. Then another trickle that slows to a dripping. And it stays that way, a drip coming out every two to two and a half seconds. I don’t know the plan, but if the flow continues this way it could take hours to empty the bag if that is their intent. I fear that my body will begin to reject this as I continue to swallow it down. If I vomit, I’ll be in trouble as my mouth is sealed. The dripping continues. I gulp it down about once every thirty seconds to a minute, usually when my mind detects a small pool has accumulated in my mouth. There is nothing else I can do.
I am then shown my next assault tool. He describes the machine with pride, telling me it is called a Mini Stallion Fucking Machine, almost like he’s trying to sell it to me. He informs me it has an adjustable speed of 90 to 300 RPM and that I am going to experience its entire speed spectrum this morning. It looks powerful, despite its small size. Its stroke length of two to five plus inches is demonstrated to me and I become more anxious. This is a serious machine, one that can be adjusted by height, angle, stroke speed and depth. It came with three accessory tips, each shown to me, including a silicone tapered dildo for anal exploration, a seven-inch realistic dildo for deep penetration and a vibrating dildo that allows the abuser to remotely adjust the speed of penetration and to adjust the powerful vibration. I am informed it is this last attachment that will be used.
The chair has been designed to accept this machine and so setting up beneath me is quick. My butt hole is lubed up and the machine angle is set to squarely penetrate me. The drive rod is rotated so that I am pierced by the dildo and adjusted so that I will be invaded to my limit but not escape me when it cycles back. He starts the machine, thankfully at a slow speed, and my ass begins to be fucked with deep slow thrusts, with each lunge retracting back almost the full length, yet keeping the head embedded in me before it moves upward again. The first three or four rotations are painful, but manageable. After that, my butt accepts it just like all the cocks and dildos that have previously entered me, just smoother and more even in its assault. This will change as the speed is varied and vibration turned on and up. The machine drives on without effort and I come to the realization that my ass could and may well be fucked for hours, who knows? I hope I can bear it and that my hole doesn’t tear or become rubbed raw, a distinct possibility.
And the slow dripping in my mouth continues.
They are not done; my chair sitting will feature at least one more antagonizer. His co-master opens an unassuming case, the one his sub carried in with him when we first ‘met’, He pulls his toy out of the box. “I brought this just for you. It’s a Milker Automatic Masturbation Machine,” he too acts like the many salesmen I chatted with at the trade show earlier in the week.
As he holds it up, I recognize it as a device designed to go around the penis to mimic real sex with automatic stroking and suction. “I assume you have never used one of these, they can both please and tease. You told me when you greeted us that you wanted me to abuse you. Well, I’m going to let the machine milk you straight through multiple orgasms driving you into the realms of insanity,” he wickedly tells me. “My sub when tied down goes berserk straining against his bondage within minutes of his orgasm when I keep it running past ejaculation. I shut it off because I love and care about him. You are not so lucky as I plan to let it run until you are having dry ejaculations, maybe longer than that and tied as you are there’s nothing you can do to stop me. I can’t wait to see what happens when it goes on relentlessly as you fight against your restraints. Sorry Bitch, but I am here to have fun, and you signed up to be the entertainment.”
The toy comes with two cylinders, a long one meant as full shaft pleaser and the second one that is a short cylinder built to tease delicate spots like the tip of the penis. I’ll be getting the full shaft. He commands his nearby sub to make me hard. I expect a blow job, but instead I am hand masturbated and vibrated till I’m rock hard. The kid was good at his assignment. I’m sure the robo-cock that is still going into and out of my butt hole helped. Once hard, my shaft is further lubed, and the cylinder is placed over it. The device is held tight against my groin by cords secured around my waist. Even if I go placid, my cock will not fall out of its grasp. It is turned on and my trapped cock feels the pleasant pulling and sucking it was designed to provide.
And the slow dripping in my mouth continues.
“OK, he’s seen enough, put a blindfold on him so he can concentrate on his ride,” orders Master and I am blindfolded into darkness. The cock in my butt comes to a halt and I feel them add a new coating of lube on it and around my hole. “It looks like he could use a drink before we get started,” says Master and I am caught off guard as a rush of piss floods my mouth. Unhappily and without choice, I gulp it down, nearly choking on it as I feel movement again in my butt hole and the flow in my mouth returns to dripping. The speed of the thrusts has been increased. And then the vibration is turned on. There must be two working the controls because simultaneously the action on my cock accelerates. Other than the piss, this feels good. My dick is getting excited, hard, real hard from the sucking action and movement with the vibrations and thrusting in my ass stimulating my prostate and the like. Wow, nice.
I was allowed to enjoy the ecstasy of the moment for probably five minutes. I was on a path to climax when the boys began to adjust the controls, first turning up the speed of butt penetration, then increasing the vibrations. The masturbater was then put at a more intense sucking and pulling level. I am not going to handle the new stroking speed for long. As hard as I try not to, I last maybe just another three or four minutes when I go rigid and my dick begins to spasm, shooting my load into the cylinder. The device doesn’t mind and keeps stroking and sucking my weakened but still slightly pulsating semi-rigid cock while I continue to be pounded from behind. My dickhead, now super sensitive, tries to pull away from the machine, but it is trapped. The stimulation is now unpleasant, and I struggle with my bonds. I hear laughter and the comment “Look at him go; no matter how hard he strains he can’t get away from it, this is great!” Being milked post ejaculation is a severe pain/pleasure kind of stimulation. The body involuntarily tries to escape from it, in this case to no avail. If it was being done manually, the abuser would likely ease off, but this machine is unyielding, relentless, ruthless. I am rewarded for my ejaculation with a large gulp of my beverage. A shock as it was certainly unexpected.
As the cock machine continues using my own cum as lube, the butt assault is stopped so the shaft can be again re-lubed to protect my hole from the ongoing friction. They will do this about every five to seven minutes during my time on the chair and it did save me. They often used the same time to give me a mouthful of urine, then returning the flow to drips. It appears to amuse them. This co-timing was helpful as I began to expect it and therefore was ready for the burst of pee when it came, unlike the first. Towards the end of this ordeal, I began to feel bloated and sick to my stomach from the overhydration by the foul liquid. And ironically now I needed to pee.
It took a while for my body to accept the continued cock stimulation after fruitless attempts to otherwise get away from it. When they noticed my tolerance change, they adjusted the speed back down a bit. They turned down the butt vibration too but increased the thrust speed. A few minutes later, someone began fondling my balls as someone else messaged my nipples. These actions helped to reinvigorate my cock and it began its recovery presenting a new erection. It took longer, as common, to get to the point of orgasm the second time, but before long with this added attention we were again approaching a climax. The vibration was increased, the stroking/sucking action was likewise accelerated, and soon I was squirting in the cylinder once again, just not as much.
The continuation of the milking the second time was worse. I was surprised with the energy I was exerting against my restraints, but they held fast, and so did the cylinder around my dick and the plug moving in my butt. I was weakening from my overexertion. The waist twisting I was doing to try to free my cock was causing my butt hole to ache as the thrust rod and dildo were rigid and unyielding, so it was my butt hole that had to absorb the stress.
More lube, more piss, more stroking, more agony.
I find myself trying to hold my breath to keep the shaft and head stimulations from pushing me over the edge. My mind is going spastic, just as the master had predicted and wanted. They play with my nipples, balls and with the controls and eventually I get somewhat erect again and after a lot of up and down of the cylinder controls and the ass vibrations at full speed and butt thrust high, I ejaculate a third time, not sure how much came out, if anything. I do know my dick was spasming and that the cylinder kept going, I squirmed, struggled, cried, and they laughed.
More lube, more piss, more stroking, constant agony.
Then a stop in the action. The cylinder was changed out for the smaller one which was placed over my oh so sensitive dickhead. The butt plunger was re-lubed, piss gulp delivered, and we were back to action. This dick stroking was more intense as it was localized and working on my most susceptible spot. The nerve endings were on fire and unhappy. Yet the mind and body responded with an erect penis. The orgasm came quicker, I’m sure nothing was discharged, all it did was spasm, jumping around as the top-heavy cylinder at the head of my cock caused it to swing. Its cords keep it from falling off, much to my dismay. The stimulation kept coming and I was truly suffering to my captor’s delight. Apparently watching the mental anguish of cock overstimulation is more amusing to these Dom’s of BDSM then other forms of punishments and abuses they deliver. Milking a man to insanity, who would have thought?
More lube, more piss, more stroking, complete agony.
By now my mind and body were like Jello and I became numb to the abuse. I’m not sure if I had dry ejaculated again or not. It was likely. The last half hour of this torment is mostly a blur. I know that they continued to readjust the speeds and vibration level every few minutes. It may have been to allow the others in the room to take turns abusing me and seeing if they could get reactions. I was shattered and had no reactions left. I had consumed way too much piss, suffered too many thrusts, too much stroking. My cock and ass felt broken, and my stomach nauseated when they finally shut the butt and dick machines down.
I was left bound to the chair for a good half hour, maybe longer to recover as best I could, however, they continued to let the pee drip into my mouth and the now motionless cock remained fully extended into my butt during my rest time. I did fall off to sleep once and woke suddenly as I nearly choked from the urine that had accumulated in my mouth.
When I was finally released from the chair, I was reminded that the original intent was for me to drink just my own pea and if I had given them a reasonable discharge to use when asked I would have drunk a lot less and I would surely had been done with this torture sooner. It’s a little late to tell me that. Back on my feet, I was a little unsteady, but did feel better, some strength had returned. My hands this time are cuffed in front of me so that I can eat a granola energy bar that has been given to me. My lunch. It helps clear the nasty taste in my mouth, but a little burp brings it right back. I am also offered two Pepto-Bismol tablets, telling me it will help settle my stomach. I take them. The food bar and tablets seemed to settle my stomach, along with taking a substantial pee into the empty urinal bottle. I guess I am ready for the next ordeal, but then, ready or not, it is going to happen.
Chapter 14: Horsing Around in Vegas
{Saturday 12:00 noon - 2:00 pm}
I am taken to the wet room where all my cuffs are removed. Having no idea of what time of day it is, I am assuming I am here for my second daily cleansing, although it just doesn’t seem that long ago that I was here. I’m tired and my wandering mind makes me a little confused. My very sore butt is not looking forward to being touched at the moment. I am also unhappy to see I have an entourage of four with me. Are they going to watch this? How perverted and disgusting. But it’s not what I think, as one of the masters in the group picks up a hanger with a full-length black rubber suit and hood from a hook on the wall and shows it to me. “Isn’t this nice, it’s for you, I brought it with me, it’s just your size.” This is going to be another new experience for me. I really need to rethink all the things that are listed in the Contract, although I don’t have any particular fear of this kink. I really know nothing about it. When I’ve seen it online, the women always looked hot in latex and when they were bound, it was great. I feel a surge of energy as the anticipation of something new that I would like to try. My mind is back into the game, I’m living my fantasies, I hope my body can hold up. Not exactly sure how this will play out though. I’m sure it will still be tied to the BDSM world.
My entire body is meticulously rubbed down with bath towels and then air dried with a hair blower. Cornstarch is then sprinkled all over me. I am leaned up against the Tee for balance as the one-piece garment is readied. It is rolled open and folded down with a significant amount of the cornstarch shaken into one of the legs. My left leg is lifted and slid into the powdered leg sleeve. I am told to point my toes and ankle down and they carefully and very slowly pull my foot through the foot opening. I put my foot down on the floor as the suit’s leg is then pulled up, again very slowly as it is a tight fit; the process moving an inch or two at a time. I now better understand what my wife goes through putting on pantyhose and tights.
They continue to smooth out the rubber and center the back seam as they go. As it rolls up the tightness and constriction make the suit feel like a second skin. Every few minutes additional corn starch is sprinkled on my skin. You can tell that one of the masters leading the work is an expert at this by the way he exhibits patience with the process and how he uses his ‘rolling hand’ as a barrier between the rubber and my skin. It grinds on. They get to my knee and stop. The method is then repeated with the other leg. This technique continues as they come up my thighs, over my hips and butt. I’m surprised and amused that this is crotchless; there will be open access to my privates. The torso of the suit is zippered from the back and the front including the arms is all one piece extending up from the legs, so after the time-consuming process of the suit’s arms, chest, and even my lower neck being fitted to me first, the garment is zipped up from behind, ever so slowly, pulling my sides together, then the back closed. The constriction reminds me of all that I love about stretch-wrap bondage. The rubber has formed a vacuum with my skin and while currently I still have freedom to move all my limbs, there is that tight confining cocoon feel that I like so much. I’m sure they used a box of cornstarch in the donning. The team seems pleased with the outcome of their tedious work.
The body suit has matching gloves, which are put on and fastened to snaps onto the sleeves, followed by rubber feet, better described as socks or booties, encapsulating my feet and snapped to the body of the suit. My ensemble is not complete as they are now fitting me with a red and black rubber corset. This goes on much easier and faster, having hook and loop buttons in the front and eyelets and loose laces in the back. It is unclipped, wrapped around me and refastened. The laces are then pulled tight one row at a time until my waist is constricted, not easy for a man, and my breathing minimized a tad, maybe more. The corset has matching wrist bondage cuffs that are put on and then locked to rings on the corset. Similar cuffs are put on my ankles, but for the moment at least not attached to each other or anything else.
Finally, it is time for the hood, and using the same methods of donning, I now have a new rubber skin, tight around my head and face. The mouth and eyes are open but have snaps on each side of the openings to attach a matching blindfold and gag if desired. My nose is covered; however, there are two small gromet air holes to allow breathing when the gag is used. The hood overlays the neck of the suit. There is a neck belt on the hood that buckles and has four D-rings, front and back, and sides. These are in addition to one located at the top of the hood. I am ready to serve my captors as entertainment in a new fashion. I see my reflection in the wet room windows. In my opinion I don’t look erotic like the women I’ve seen outfitted in latex, but I think I have a sexier appearance than my naked body has been.
My dressers advised that the play party is moving outside, and I’m invited and that they have already RSVP for me. I am led to the playroom’s exit doors and taken outside. The first thing I notice is it is hot out and I can feel the warmth of the desert sun’s rays through the black rubber. I am walked to the chaise lounge area where I see more gear. Initially, I’m not sure, but it looks like pony-play equipment.
I’m surprised and pleased that they start by applying suntan lotion to my two areas of exposure, my face and my privates. There is a fine line between putting lotion on my privates and rubbing my privates with lotion. Let’s just say, I am not likely to burn there today. I am then told to raise my feet, one at a time of course, where hoof boots are placed over my rubberized feet. They have an odd feel, unlike shoes or sneakers. This had to be planned way in advance, as the rubber suit was sized for me, and so are these boots. When Sir and I were discussing the trip to Vegas, he quizzed me on my clothing and shoe sizes, now I understand why.
A harness is fastened around my waist and lower chest, overtop of my corset. I am told to bend forward, and my exposed sore butthole is fitted with a well lubed steel butt plug sporting a long black horse hair tail. Next comes a bit and bridle snuggly attached over my rubber hood and into my open mouth. They take their time making sure it is well adjusted so they can control my head movement as well as my speech. They add blinders to limit my peripheral vision. A red plume is then inserted in the top. My arms are then crossed behind my back and bound so that they are useless to me. I wish there was a mirror as I would like to see what I look like now with the horse gear. Am I a stud? Erotic? Sexy? A spectacle? I like the half-naked girl ponies prancing on the internet. Will this crowd think I look sexy?
Hey, brain, what are you thinking? Why do you care? Who is here that you want to look sexy for? Ego? What are they doing to my mind? I’m here to be a submissive, not for whatever was just going through my mind. OK, concentrate on what they are telling you to do.
I am told to walk forward about fifteen feet, turn around and come back, I do. I am then told to do it again, this time trot, like a horse. I can do it, but my butt reminds me it is sore from its earlier overuse as the plug wiggles as I run. When I come back, reins are attached to my bridle. I’m told if the right rein is pulled, I’m to go right, left pulled, then left. Both jiggled, go forward; pulled back, stop. Hit with the crop, go faster. In my mind, ‘A crop? Crap.’
They have me trot back and forth a few times. I’m told to prance more, to raise my knees up high as part of each step. It is then that the master that has led my rubber latex and now horse transformation says, “Lets connect him to the sulky, I’m ready for a ride.” I look around and don’t see any cart. But I do see one of the subs opening a gate in the pool area’s privacy wall. I am trotted to and out the gate. Just to the outside of the gate is a chrome sulky to which my harness is quickly attached. We are now outback of the home’s property; it is wide open. My concern is not that I am dressed as a horse, it is that my junk is fully exposed. I am visible to the world. A rider gets in, by the voice I can tell it’s the same master. I get a shake of the reins and crack of the whip, and I start to pull the cart forward. We are on a flat, smooth winding path that transverses the rear of the property. I have no idea of what is around me, as my view is limited, and I am concentrating on my trotting in the awkward hoof boots. The path ultimately terminates at the home’s driveway by the garage. I am concerned as I am directed onto the driveway to continue my pulling. I’ve been slowed to a fast walk. My route is still down the driveway.
At the point where the driveway meets the turnoff to the front of the house I try to turn that way, but my left rein is pulled hard, and the whip hits me hard. “I decide where we are going, not the dumb animal!” And we continue down the driveway towards the public road, my cock and balls swaying back and forth as we move forward. We reach the road where we stopped and he has me wait facing the street until you can hear a car approaching, he waits until it nearly reaches us when he mercifully turns me around and we start heading back up, my exposed privates no longer visible, street side.
I am now noticing I am getting hot. This black suit absorbs the sun’s rays. The driver pulls me to a stop at the wye to the house where the Host has a bottle of water for me, which they help pour into my mouth, as I have no hands and there is a bit in my mouth. I pull my rider all the way back to the starting point. There waiting for me is an attendant with a hose who squirts me down with cold water which is much welcomed. I am ‘fed’ more water, this time via a horse bucket held to my face which I must lap up to overcome the bit in my mouth. My temperature is also taken with an electronic thermometer, I am warm, but deemed still within their set health and safety limits.
“Who’s next?” My rest is over, and another rider gets in. This ride is much shorter and limited to the outback and the pace is a simple walk. Upon return, another hosing, watering, temperature taking and a change of riders. The third rider takes his turn, this time with more whipping as he wants me to go faster around the backward loop. I respond with a faster trot as best as I can, not so much to please my rider as to stop his strikes of the riding crop. Another exchange and this time it’s Sir Michael taking the reins. He’s less aggressive with the whip than the others. I am exhausted, hot and dragging. We have traveled about a third of the outback path when he calls out, “Are you out of steam, do we need to stop?” I shake my head up and down, like a horse does. And he says, “OK let’s go back.” We turned around and returned to the gate. My best friend wants me to live my fantasy but not harm me in the process.
After a quick hose down for cooling, I am taken to the gazebo for shade as they remove my horse paraphernalia, leaving me in my original rubber gear. My arms are released from my back, and I am allowed to drink my own bottle of water before they attach my wrists to the side rings of my corset. I am led from the protected gazebo to the nearby patio area where I am helped to the ground and laid out on a rubber pad (I’m told to protect the garment, not for my comfort). My arms are released from my corset and pulled up and wide, being resecured to chains secured to rings hidden within the pavers. My legs are similarly held down. The purpose for this attachment isn’t so much to put me in strict bondage as to keep me held while they slowly roast me without the ability to seek my own relief. Black rubber clothes, hot sun rays, I will heat fast. Thankfully my exposed skin was recoated with suntan lotion to replace that lost in the washdowns.
I do heat up fast. For my safety, they check my temperature with an electronic thermometer every five minutes or so. I am not sure what they established as the cut off, but at least four times I was sprayed down with cool water which provided needed relief. I’m sure I was barbequed for at least thirty to forty-five minutes. As I laid there, I could hear lots of outside activities. Some were using the pool; others were on the lounge chairs near me chatting. Some were being serviced. I was just left alone other than for safety checks and cooling. Other than the heat, I loved the feel of the rubber and the time to rest, I did drift off occasionally, only to be awakened by the hose. The last time I was awoken by one of my monitors who said, “Sir Michael, if you want him medium-rare, he’s done.”
Chapter 15: Under the Desert Sun and Unstill Waters
{Saturday 2:00 pm - 7:00 pm}
It was time to play with me again, this time in the pool. “I read you like the water. You have fantasies of being tied helpless on the beach, waiting to be overtaken by the waves,” stated one of the masters. That wasn’t true. In San Diego when we were at the beach, Sir Michael had asked if I had any desire to be tied down and then have the ocean waves consume me. I had clearly indicated I didn’t, but during the conversation I did explain a method I thought would work to keep someone tied down in the sand. I had foolishly written this exchange down in my journal, now being misinterpreted.
I was released from my land-based chains, hands reattached to the corset, lifted up and walked to the walk-in entry of the pool. This was one of the attractive features I had noticed when we toured. The pool edge is flush with the pool deck and then the pool floor descends downward like a ramp into the depths of the pool, mimicking just how you would enter the water at the beach, less the sand. They walk me into the pool far enough so that the water depth is about a foot, then they tell me to sit down in the water. The cooling effect is nice, very nice in fact. They then laid me flat, my body facing up and my head towards the shallower water. My shoulders and back are resting on the slanted pool bottom, but my head and neck float upwards from a combination of their natural buoyancy and the rubber hood. They adjust my head depth in the water, pushing it downward till it touches the concrete floor, sliding me a little deeper until the water is just reaching the edge of my mouth and nose. When they release their grip, my head floats back up a bit from the pool bottom. The buoy weights I had seen on the tour were then put in service. My arms were released from my side and pulled outward with each one locked to their own block that had apparently been placed beside me. My ankles were connected to one below my feet. The two side rings of my corset then were connected to one each, laid down on each side of my belly. I pulled, but I had no success moving any of them. One final block is put by the ring on the top of my hood. When they fastened it to the hood my head is then again held to the pool bottom and the water comes up my face to just below my mouth opening. With effort I can lift my head up about an inch allowing my mouth to clear the water a little, but I can’t sustain it over time. I tried again to pull on my other restraints, I was staying just where they put me.
“Open your mouth Cunt,” he says loud enough so I can hear it with my submerged ears. I do and a metal gag is inserted in my mouth. It’s one of those dental gags, this one is a ratchet style type, a Whitehead mouth gag, I think. This one has rubber surfaces on the teeth grippers which helps keep it from slipping free, I know this as I tried to dislodge it with no success. He ratchets it up and my mouth is uncomfortably wide open. I can’t close my mouth nor push out the gag up off my teeth. It also has a neck strap to secure the gag to my head, it is fished under my neck gap and the strap buckled, it’s not coming off. They have done a great job of positioning me; my mouth is just out of the water. A little turbulence and I’ll be taking a drink. They then snapped the blindfold to the hood. Sarcastically it is said that it is to keep the bright sunlight out of my eyes.
I laid there peacefully in the pool, when after about ten minutes the water turbulence I feared came. They had turned on the two pool fountains that were running when I was first shown the house and pool. I have been placed so I was centered between them. Their falling water made ripples in the pool surface, so, every so often I was getting water into my mouth, not a lot, but it did somewhat flood my mouth each time it came. My throat would subconsciously close instantly, and no water would be swallowed. I could expel it by raising my head against its bond, and with a slight turn of the head use the air in my lungs to blow it out. I swim three days a week at the gym and was a college swimmer years ago. Pool water flowing into the mouth is routine and no big deal for me, it’s why I handled the waterboarding in San Diego without distress. Along with breathing through my nose, I am fine, uncomfortable when I arched up my neck and head against the bond to dispel the water, but fine.
I am left to just lay there for a while. I’ve cooled down from my hot suit experience. The tepid pool water with its gentle turbulence rocking me is pleasant. The suit is not watertight, so I am taking on some water at the ankles, maybe around the neck, but as tight to me as the suit is, it is not much and doesn’t migrate far. It is calming and peaceful in the tight rubber lying in the water, so much so, I could fall asleep, but the open mouth and bubbling waters make that a bad idea. So, no real sleep, but I do get some needed relaxation. I am pretty much left to my own for what turns out to be about a half hour. My ears are underwater, but still at times I can hear others in the water, but they don’t engage with me, it’s a big pool and I assume they are just cooling off too. There are other sounds, some just muted party talk from people on the deck. You can sense some are snacking and drinking a beer or a glass of wine. Other sounds indicate that I likely am not the only one bound in this outside paradise. And you can also tell by the noises being made that they are not just restrained but are providing services or taking punishments. During this time, I think hard about what has happened to me so far this weekend and I am good with it. I also know there is also a long way to go, and it is likely to be difficult. Funny, if my tormentor’s intent was to make me feel like I am being consumed by the ocean, that isn’t happening, I’m enjoying the break. I could see how it would be challenging, if not downright terrifying to others.
My rest and contemplation are disturbed with “You want to try something else in the pool?” asked rhetorically by Master (he’s going to do what he wants with me and doesn’t require an answer). I assume they are frustrated by my lack of concern that I will drown in the way I have been placed. He releases me from the buoy-blocks and sits me up, attaches my wrist cuffs to a ring on the back of the corset, and stands me up the rest of the way. They waded me out to deep water. When we reach a depth where water is about at my armpits, what I believe are ‘foam noodles’ are slid under each pit, giving me enough buoyancy to keep my head out of the water. I am taken out deeper where my feet no longer touch the bottom.
I am told to hold my breath, and am momentarily submerged as they move me under a ‘lane marker’ that divides the pool into sections and they bring me back up on the other side of it. I had taken notice of the marker line before as it was one of the commercial grade plastic racing lane line types that you typically see as dividers of community and college swim lanes, not the ‘float buoys every few feet on a rope’ type more common in residential pools. This was being used to provide a demarcation point between the deep-water diving and sliding board area and the rest of the pool. I am backed up against it so the back of my head rests against the plastic disks, where my head is tied to it using the rings on the hood. The noodles are pulled out from under my arms and my gag opened mouth is now being held out of the water only by my head strapped to the line. I feel someone at my feet and there is a slight pull down as my ankle cuffs are tethered to what I can only assume is a buoy block on the bottom of the pool. En-route back up to the surface, this ‘lifeguard’ rechecks my arms assuring that they remain tied behind my back.
This is a bizarre sensation bound this way, not frightening, but in that family. I know no one here is going to let me drown, but the tightness of the rubber, the helplessness of being in deep water now that I can’t use my hands or pull up my legs, not being able to close my mouth that is so close to the water does unnerve me a tad, despite how aquatically comfortable I am. I was floating there for probably ten minutes when a group of partiers decided it was time to use the pool’s diving board and slide. The crowd is sizable and their regular water entries and departures make for turbulent waters, by design. And so, for about another ten minutes I combat the flooding and receding of water in my mouth from the onslaught of cannon balls, cherry bombs, and the occasional belly flop. The boys truly are having fun frolicking in the water. The trauma it is causing me, as intended, is just an added pleasure for them. Boys will be boys. A while passes.
Whispered in my ear: “The water here is about seven and a half feet, bob, push up with your feet.” I am still trying to figure out what that meant and why he was calling me Bob when I felt my ankles being released from the buoy, the gag taken out of my mouth and my head unstrapped from the lane line. In a moment I am sinking, and my head is below the water. No one is helping to hold me up, and instinctively I try treading water. My arms are of no use bound behind me and my legs, while doing their best to kick while cuffed together, are not getting my head above water. I continued downward; it didn’t seem far when my feet contacted the pool floor.
It is there where I understand what was said. Push up with my feet, bob in the water. I had gotten a decent breath into my lungs as I went under, so I am not in trouble yet, I bend my knees, and I am able to get a good push up and rocket myself to the surface. I actually used a little too much push, I only need to ascend about two and a half feet. I made such a splash coming up it was tough getting my breath in before slipping back under and traveling again to the bottom. The next push up was better calculated, and I got plenty of air, although my head was only above the water momentarily. They made me stay alive by bobbing up and down for well over five minutes, probably closer to ten, often I would stay on the bottom till I needed air, as it was less effort on my part.
Although not difficult or overly stressful, it was still disconcerting having my arms tied. Also, being blindfolded, my orientation was based solely on my touching the pool bottom. I feared if I didn’t push up square, I could stray sideways unknowingly and not reach the surface. This did not happen. On one of my bobs up, someone grabbed my leg holding me down, the only real struggle with that was I had to return to the bottom and re-push up, now with limited air. It did tell me that there was someone right with me if I was in trouble, at least I hoped that was the case. Eventually, I was refloated with the noodles, taken to the edge of the pool and extracted, my feet then uncoupled, and I was walked to and then laid down on my stomach on one of the nearby chases. Later, I thought that it might have been fun if they sent me down the sliding board into the water, bound as I was.
Given just a minute to catch my breath, someone lubes up my butthole and takes advantage of me. It is a little awkward on the l lounge chair, and he takes leave of me after about five minutes. I imagine my use was more for the want to sexually abuse me than for actually wanting to take my butt for their own sexual pleasure. He was certainly hard, but the strokes seemed more robotic than others had been. My guess, it was a bottom sub told by his master to do me while I was wet and in rubber.
Once he was done with his assignment, I was moved to the gazebo, hands repositioned and the ceiling pulley used to hoist them over my head with a rope. I was not stretched as had become typical but held somewhat loose. My ankles were re-locked together. I was just warehoused here for a while, the real captivity being the clothing I had on which still gave me a likeable bondage mood. I could hear lots of chatter and the smells let me know they were grilling. Part of the group was sitting near me eating. I’m sure it was part of the mind games they were playing with me, as I was fed as they ate, my two squeeze bags of baby food, followed by an energy bar and a bottle of water. Not able to track time, I at least knew we were moving into the evening as I was not overheating so much in my suit as I had been before my pool dip and people were eating dinner.
As the guests and host had their desserts and after dinner chatter, I was taken inside to the wet room by my host sub and another who undressed me which was quite a laborious time-consuming task that took both of them plus my personal assistance to accomplish. I was then subjected to my evening cleansing, which both subs did together as a team, which mortified me even more than before, a fresh shower which I knew I needed, and a re-shaving of my privates. They seemed to be taking their time with each task and considerable time appeared to pass. A good thing, I needed the down time if you can consider these things as such. When they finished their tasks with me, I was moved back into the Dungeon and sat down in front of the Saint Andrew's cross. Wait here, the Masters will be with you shortly. And I sat, hands cuffed behind my back, wondering if I’d be up on the cross soon.
Chapter 16: A New Guest, a Permissible Mistress
{Saturday 7:00 pm - 10:00 pm}
A group of the masters, led by their host, I didn’t see Sir Michael with them, entered the dungeon and came directly to me. “Oh, do we have a surprise for you. Let’s get you on the cross so we can get started on making another of your fantasies real, Bitch,” says Master.
I am uncuffed. My feet are put up onto the step pads which are about ten inches off the floor. I am set back till my back contacts the center of the cross. My arms are pulled up to the top cuffs that are attached to a ratchet mechanism, and they secure the cuffs to my wrists. Next my ankles are buckled into the ankle cuffs located above the step pads. Two of the masters then crank the ratchets which pull my wrists upward, effectively stretching my body taut as my ankles are held fast. Working together they then buckle all the remaining leather straps that adorn the cross down my arms, up my legs, and across my body, making me one with the cross, unmovable. I strain against my bonds but go nowhere. The hold pins on the pads my feet are resting on are pulled releasing the steps, dropping them away and I am effectively suspended and held to the cross off the floor only by the straps and cuffs.
This is the second time I have been bound to a cross like this. Sir Michael had borrowed one from a local friend for my visit to San Diego. There I was thoroughly abused, primarily by stripping. I survived; I wonder what I will be served here. There was just a short wait to find out.
Sir Michael enters the dungeon, and he has a young lady on his arm. He walks her right up to me. “I brought you a present.” She is wearing six-inch stiletto thigh high patent leather boots that lace all the way up the front. There is about four inches of sexy bare skin between the boot tops and the lower edge of her pleated mini skirt with a silver studded waistband that barely covers her privates. An under bust corset, topped with halter shoulder straps squeezes her waist and causes her cute little exposed breasts to thrust forward. Over the elbow gloves adorn each hand and arm. A newsboy flat cap also with silver studs accents her darling bangs and shoulder length dark brown hair. She completes her ensemble by sporting a matching riding crop in her hand. All of these garments and accessories are made of sensual black leather. She is hot. Oh wow, is she hot. As presented, she is also the spitting image of the character Tiffany Chester, a dominatrix on the cable TV series ‘Bonding’, played by Zoe Levin, who is a 5’5” slender, champagne glass busted, very attractive actress. They could be twins.
I am very unsure about this. My contact is explicitly clear, I’m not to have relations, forced or not, with women. That crosses my morality line. I know it’s a weird line, but that’s where I have decided is as far as I will go. Sir Michael is well aware of this, he is good friends with my wife, I don’t get this, he brought her in. OK, I’m slow on the uptake. New to the contract was a clause about transgender women. No, this couldn’t be. To me, this person is genuinely sexually attractive, desirable, gorgeous. Someone if I was unencumbered, I would want to meet, well more than just meet. And wow, how she is dressed is a super turn on. This couldn’t be a man, could it? I look hard down at her skirt. All is still covered for the moment. I’m confused.
She makes sure I get a good look at her. In a very feminine voice she says, “Hi sweety, you sure look good up there. I love that cock of yours. I’ve been looking forward to playing with you, which is why I came. You’re going to make me a happy girl tonight, aren’t you? Don’t let me down. I read in your journal that you like to be striped when you are on the cross. Well, I’m good at that so I guess you’re going to get just what you enjoy. But first let’s check out your tool, he likes to experience pain too, doesn’t he?” And I am introduced to her riding crop. She hits my cock three or four times. It has gotten a little swollen, thrilled about the outfit that she is wearing. It is as much of a turn on as is this attractive woman. “Oh, isn’t that nice, I think he’s starting to get excited that I’m here. Look, I’m glad to see him too,” and she lifts her skirt and shows me and the rest of the boys her erect penis.
And I am so relieved she has a dick, even so I still have an unsure conscience. None of the other men made my cock rise like this.
She is not done yet with her crop and makes it dance on and around my nipples. I’ve been whipped by many this weekend, but no one did it with such a sexy sway, almost dancing on her stiletto heels and toes. She switches back to my balls and cock. After a few hits, she raises one of her thin leather clad legs and rests her point heel against my bag. She is gentle. “Don’t worry sweetheart I won’t hurt your precious balls and cock; I want to play with them later, so I don’t want anything broken. I just want you to admire my boots, I wore them just for you, princess.” She removes her heel and adds, “Now let’s see how good you look in candy strips. Who has the single tail?” she says to no one in particular.
My concern and thoughts about my excitement from this person is lost as stinging shoots across my chest. Owww. Then another. Owww. And again, and again. Owwww. “Quiet, my darling, or I’ll have the boys gag you.” I hold my breath in anticipation of each next hit and when it comes, I gasp, then suck in air again and hold. The stinging is not severe, it’s however just within the upper end of pain/pleasure. Certainly bearable. This stinging, not nice, but different from the other whipping I’ve endured. I notice as she travels up and down my chest, stomach, and thighs, she makes sure strips clearly include my nipples, but my balls and cock are spared. The body acclimates to the assault after a while, and I no longer seem to wince as the strikes land. Well, other than when she hits my nipples, and she never seems to miss them as she travels up and down my body. When she is finally satisfied that I am well colored in long red streaks she puts down her weapon. She then soothingly applies Witch Hazel over everywhere she has laid down strips. This burns initially, especially where the stripping was heavy, but soon turns to a soothing feel. One would say it was applied lovingly, not what I would expect from a dominatrix. But then, she has not been belligerent or harsh in her approach to me. She’s more of a deviant tease.
“I want to see how big my sweetheart’s dick can get, that OK with you?” she asks Sir Michael who is passing by. And with his nod to the affirmative, she starts with a gentle fondling with her leather gloved hand. The leather on my privates provides a blissful, wonderful stimulation, much different from an uncovered hand. This is quite enjoyable but doesn’t come close to what she begins to do with her tongue. The first lick sends a vibration down my spine. She works both in combination, using her glove to concentrate on my sack as she consumes my now grown shaft with her mouth. She provides the perfect combination of pressure, warmth, and wetness. Between her varying tempo, ball play, sucking and deep throating, she is making me go wild.
Visually I am going nuts too, I gaze down from my bound stretched cross at what from my vantage point is a beautiful leather clad woman worshiping my raging cock. There is a warm, pleasurable sensation running through my entire body. This mouth is amazing. She is making me squirm, I am straining against my bonds, the feeling, there is nothing else like it. I’m even tingling in my head. Her mouth is doing so much more than a vagina could do. She is pulling the life forces out of me and I am getting close to a climax. I don’t have and won’t be given permission, I try to pull back, but my body is mostly immobile. She senses the nearing discharge, and slows it down quickly, and then retracts. “Good boy, you hold that cum for later, we have lots more playing to do.”
Oh, did I want to cum. That was fantastic, certainly I didn’t feel submissive. But my mind is not happy with me. Yes, I am bound and couldn’t resist, and yes, I know she has a cock, but on the other hand, I was thoroughly aroused and shouldn’t be. “You tasted good, sweety, you may not have ejaculated, but I did love your pre-cum. And you’re my perfect size, not too long, not too short, not too thick, not too thin, just right. Yeah, that’s right, I’m Goldilocks, and I have a bed that’s just the right size for us too.” I know I didn’t contribute anything to this other than being there, providing her a defenseless rigid cock, but I still liked the praise, especially in reference to my equipment size.
“Hey, you done with him on the cross? I want to do him on the bed,” asked Mistress.
“Well, we wanted to make him sparkle in the dark before taking him down. Is that OK with you? said one of the masters.
“Sure,” she replied. Sparkle? What the hell is that? I was about to find out.
The lights in the area are turned off. It is very dark. I am still strapped tight to the cross. I see two neon tubes light up, one each held by two of the masters. I had never been subject to electro play with a violet wand and I feel my body tense up in anxious anticipation. One device looks like a glowing rake, the other like a neon round spiral. The first one used is the spiral, where it is moved in small circles around my right nipple, held close to but not touching my skin. It gives me a buzzing sensation, like gentle effervescent bubbles tingling as the wand glides across my skin.
I didn’t know what to expect, this is unique, different from other electro play, both the pleasurable and not so pleasurable play I had previously experienced. You can hear a quiet buzzing sound also. This is quite intriguing. There is a beautiful violet electrical glow playing over my skin. The deep purple neon light sparkles in the darkness. I’m experiencing teasing pain in color. It now feels almost like prickly tickling. He expands his exploration with the wand to my other breast, then most of my chest. As he moves to my privates the tingling feels more intense there, getting more like a static shock you receive when you touch a metal doorknob. There are oohs and aahs like you hear at firework shows, it is captivating my gathered audience as he glides over me. I’m putting on a well-rounded show for them as my body begins to buck at the unpleasant irritation of my sack.
The second wand is now brought into play. This one is even more intense, more painful in the pleasure/pain scheme of things. The current stays near my skin surface and doesn’t penetrate deeply into my body as regular electro play does. The rake is adjusted and now the intensity is getting close to the feel of a sharp knife combing across my skin. Despite the pain it is causing me, the purple neon color dancing across my body in the darkness has such an artistic play in my mind I am able to endure this and even enjoy it. So are the watchers, they are still enjoying the show. The raker adjusts the tone down a bit and it moves closer towards the pleasure range, an acceptable pain/pleasure level. He explores my entire body, while the spiral wand holder is now concentrating on my balls and cock.
The audience has seemed to grow as I hear even more oohs and aahs from the gallery. I’m a miniature lightshow, real entertainment as advertised. The show isn’t overly long, but the players want the ending to be memorable to me and the crowd, so the spiral is turned up and placed very close to my erect nipples, providing bright colorful sparks between the wand tip and my nipples. I screech out and buck at my bounds at the unexpected and sudden concentrated pain, receiving approving applause from the gathering. This is a group who likes to see strict bondage coupled with abuse and suffering, this time with a little color and artistry. They got what they came to see.
As the lights were brought back on, they released me from the cross, a welcome relief to my shoulders and arms which had begun to ache and cramp from their stretched upward positions. I am moved over to the bed as previously requested by the Mistress. Here, I am bound on my back in the center of the mattress with my arms spread to the mattress sides, wrists cuffed in leather and secured to the bed sides. My legs kept together, ankles cuffed also in leather and then stretched to the bed’s tailboard and secured. A collar with D-rings is added to my neck, and it is tied off to the headboard. All the bonds are snug but not so taut that I still have just a bit of movement of my limbs and neck, I can even spread my legs a little.
My leather clad Dominatrix parades in front of me. She makes sure I get a good look at her again, and then she bends over and gives me a gentle kiss on my cheek. She climbs up on the bed and straddles my chest with her leather boot clad knees pressed up tight against my armpits. She leans forward so her dick presses against my lips. “Now it’s your turn to do me,” she says. I open my mouth, and she leans into me further, so her erect dick slides into my mouth. I go to work, this time without a ring gag inhibiting me. Much to my shame, I perform more enthusiastically than I have with anyone else who has had their cock in my mouth this weekend. As I begin to service her, I close my eyes and think about the long shiny black high heel boots laced all the way up her slender legs that are now pressing against my face while her short, flared leather skirt drapes over my head. I use what neck movement I have to help glide up and down her member, with my lips tight against the shaft and tongue licking her shaft, slit and head. She starts gentle thrusts as she moans and gives praise. I open my eyes to look up and watch her little titties that are jutting out from her corset sway as she works her hips over my mouth. My mind is making me perform as if this is a pussy I am licking and sucking. Dangerous and wrong. I think I may have an erection or at least one is stirring. Risky, shameful. She has good control of her own excitement and makes me blow her for a long time, with her constantly indicating pleasure and satisfaction without climaxing.
She finally decides I have serviced her dick enough and withdraws it from my mouth, then spins around and says, “OK, sweetheart, please lick my crack and I’ll get you properly hard.” With that she pushes her petite butt against my face as she bends down and takes my cock into her mouth. I somewhat reluctantly go to work with my tongue up and down her crack, ultimately finding her hole as she gives my penis the quality attention she had delivered before. I am rock-hard within a minute. She has accomplished what she wanted. “OK, he’s wet and ready. Now Princess, you stay hard as I want you to fuck me good. Don’t fail me, I have friends here that will make you very unhappy if you don’t treat me right.”
She swings around, and now facing me as she straddles my waist and drops herself down on me. She wiggles around a bit, reaches her hand under her legs, finds my dick and guides it to her hole. Being an expert at this she is able slide down onto my shaft, swallowing it up with her ass without effort. She goes slow as my dick is lubed only with her saliva and she has a tight butthole, but she does now have all of me in her. She pulls back up, then slides back down again. My man-on-man ass fucking virginity has now been lost. While I have experienced a dick in my butt, this is the first time my dick has been in another man. Yes, I have been in my wife’s butt a few times over the years, but this is different, a new category.
Initially, Mistress is doing the work as I am almost in a state of shock at what is happening and of course I am tied to the bed. Her tight clenching ass is keeping me hard. She begins coaching, giving instructions and I obey, doing what I can, bound as I am, to thrust my waist upward and rotate slightly side to side. She bounces up and down, sometimes fast, mostly slow. It is marvelous, she is so tight, the grip of each rise and fall creating fireworks of ecstasy. She seems to be able to clench and release it as she moves. She slows every few minutes to let my excitement calm down, but my mind’s vision of her outfit, her beauty, and my bounds keeps me wrongly over-stimulated.
I try to think of things to distract me, it should be easy, but it’s not working. Even thinking about the moral dilemma doesn’t help because she is that good at what she is doing and that hot. I remain rock hard within her tight hole. She sometimes rests on my groin and just wiggles side to side, then leans forward and back, almost gyrating on my cock, then it’s back to rising up and down. She brings her chest down to mind creating a new angle that stimulates me even more. Her tits are tantalizing my chest as she rubs them against me. Her ass is playing havoc with my cock. Her moans are so feminine sounding.
She arches her body further up, moving her breasts to my face and she says, “Suck my titties.” I have years of practice at this, and I lick, suck and kiss her nipples doing all the tantalizing tongue and lip actions that I know will excite her. She moves her right breast from my mouth to her left and back again numerous times providing praise words that indicate I’m talented at nipple stimulation. Then it’s back up right again with her rubbing circles with her fingers around her now rigid teats as she continues to fuck me. And she is fucking me, even though I’m contributing some, she is making this happen.
I am able to hold on for maybe seven to ten minutes, but when she starts a new round of deep penetrations she reaches down and starts twisting my nipples, and I can’t stop it, I ejaculate with great force into her butt. She knows immediately, and gleefully squeals while wiggling her butt after squatting down tight against me and says, “You were fantastic, I loved that, but you’ve been naughty, so very naughty. And I think you know it. I hope it was worth it because you know you’re going to suffer for that pleasure.” Oh crap, she’s right.
Chapter 17: Vegas Wisdom, Bet on the Horse, Not the Jockey
{Saturday 10:00 pm – Sunday 12:00 am}
“You really enjoyed her, didn’t you? You know, I didn’t hear any of your Masters or the Mistress granting you permission to cum. I think you are going to wish you had. I guess you didn’t know how serious of a breach of conduct that is in the BDSM world, your new world. I have decided your atonement will be a short pony ride and you are going to ride it now.”
For the record, it wasn’t a short ride, and it wasn’t only a pony ride.
I was released from the bed restraints with the wrist and leg cuffs left on, then pulled up and stood in front of the bed where the wrists cuffs were then locked together behind my back, with no one seeming to be overly concerned about my drippy and lightly cum covered limp dick dangling in front of me. I was escorted over to the ominous wooden horse. The horse had been rolled over and placed near the cable winch equipped with the bar and suspension cuffs. The leather cuffs on my wrists were removed and I was buckled into the suspension cuffs.
Standing now with my arms pulled up in the air, they begin to attach multiple electro devices to me, letting me examine each one with my eyes before applying them so I will know exactly how I will be punished for my indiscretion. My cock and balls are first to be outfitted, with the masters selecting two electro-loops, those thin conductive rubber tubes that can be pulled tight around things like cock shafts. They ignore my sticky dick and lasso my penis about midway with one and then loop the other around my sack capturing both balls, pulling both loops snug and connecting the electric leads to the tubes. Next, I’m shown a large electro bullet that they smeared with electro-conductive gel. They reach behind, and with a little search probing they find the opening and the bullet is pushed into and is swallowed by my butthole with the wire leads protruding from it.
From my own home electro play I was familiar with both of those toys but the next one I don’t recognize. And I am not happy when they tell me what it is, an electro urethral insert. I take a long hard look at it. Seemingly made of silicone, metal and plastic, it has an adjustable noose-style plastic loop that encircles the head of the penis and secures at the bottom to hold it in place. Connected to this loop at the top and bottom is another plastic loop arranged to go over the urethra slit. There are three small gold conductive balls threaded onto this loop, the middle one having a one and one-half inch long insertable urethra pin with a diameter that looks to be of about one-sixth of an inch (my engineering trained eye coming into play as I size this up).
They squirt what they tell me is Surgilube into my urethra. Then carefully, but with full intention of seating it in me, slide the pin down my pipe so it completely disappears except for the three gold balls that are now pressed up against the slit and penis head. The adjustable noose around my head is then snugged up. The pin feels funny in me and the light pressure from the loop pressing against my slit and the tightness around my head lets me know it’s not coming out on its own. My original fear of sitting on the horse edge has shifted to the electrode in my now semi-erect cock.
Finally, I am shown the copper conductive topper of the horse which replaces the passive one that was there during my tour. Sitting on a shelf built into the bottom of the pony are two ErosTek ET312B electro power units, the Cadillac of electro controllers. I would love to own one, but they are ridiculously expensive and no longer available. I know they are extremely versatile in electro play with lots of different effects, some intense and severe which has me very anxious at the moment knowing the attachments I have been fitted with. They plug the leads from all the toys into the units.
They are not quite finished. One of my nipples is pulled and twirled between Master’s fingers and then he attaches a sinister nipple clamp. This style has two stainless steel bars that each partially encircles the nipple and are connected by adjustable screws with ball ends that give me a strong pinch as he screws both sides down tight. He pulls outwardly on the clamp, and it holds tight on the nipple. My other nipple is then clamped. Master then loops and ties a length of leather cord around each clamp and gives each a strong tug to make sure the clamps will hold.
The last thing done is the half hood I am wearing is removed and replaced with the leather hood I was asked to bring from home, laced up and buckled tight with the blindfold snapped on taking my sight away and mouth gag put in my mouth and inflated enough to essentially make me mute. “You’ll likely be screaming by the end of the hour. The suffering is yours to internalize, we won’t want to hear you,” says Master.
I must have been given a final look over as it is announced by Master, “He’s ready.” The winch is engaged, and the cable ascends up and I am pulled off the floor causing immediate stress to my arms and shoulders. As I am being raised, I feel my two legs grabbed and pulled outward, so a space is created between them. Apparently, they raise me high enough that I can clear the top of the horse with my crotch. I sense the pony being pushed between my legs as it lightly brushes against one of them, and I believe I am now positioned in the center of the horse. I hear Master say to lock the casters so the unit will not roll, and the cable is lowered so that my crotch comes to rest squarely on the triangle point and takes all my body weight.
They place an adjustable spreader bar through the open space of the horse and connect each of my ankle cuffs to it, adjusting the width so that my legs just barely touch the side panels and as such they will not be able to help in holding my weight by squeezing against the sides with my thighs. The cords on my nipple clamps are pulled out and downward stretching my nipples painfully outward and pulling me forward. They are tied off I assume to one of the rings on the front of the horse. Lastly, my arms are further lowered so that my upper arms are in line with my shoulders, jutting outward horizontally, leaving my elbows bent with my lower arms vertical. This position makes it so that I have my balance but have minimal ability to pull myself upward to gain temporary relief or reposition due to natural strength limitations of my arm positions. What little I do have will take all my strength and energy I can muster and will be fleeting. Even so, it did allow me to seek some momentary relief to my crotch two maybe three times over the duration. This little advantage helped to get me through the worst of it.
“For what you have done you shall ride this horse for one full hour. That will give you ample time to reflect on your transgression. The electro devices are in automatic mode and both power units independently programmed, with their channels set to come on randomly, selecting from the six modes available. They are also adjusted to ramp up over time. Some modes you may find slightly tolerable, others surely not. Some mild, some intense. None of this is meant to bring you pleasure, only the suffering you know you deserve and once said you desired, will see. I have full confidence you will never forget this lesson. The clock starts now,” are Master’s final words.
An hour, oh my God, a whole hour? I will never survive this.
It probably was a good two minutes before I received the first jolt, giving me ample time to feel the painful pressure building between my legs from the rail. It is impossible to get comfortable, although I try. This abuse of riding the horse is more often used on women. I have no idea how they can survive the crushing and pinching of the lips and clit of their pussies knowing the building discomfort I already have on the flat, smooth surfaces of my perineum and scrotum. It is better for me to not move for as long as I can as my resting point tends to numb up after a while and that reduces the ache some. Moving gives a fresh pain spot and pinching. The electro shocks are now hitting the different toys. Some are pain/pleasure events, others are excruciating, and so random as to where they shock and how they shock. I want to prepare myself, but I can’t get acclimated to them. I thought the urethra ones would be worse, and while they are no picnic, I have even more trouble with the shocks to my balls and shaft. E-stim doesn’t leave marks or bruises like other BDSM play can, but it’s suffering rivals any other torture. And these attacks are to my most vulnerable and sensitive body parts.
I want it to stop. Please make it stop, I’m sorry for what I did. I want to cry. And I continue my ride in silence.
There is no way that the E-stem sensations can be accurately communicated, they can only be experienced to fully appreciate them. However, Sir Michael insists that I try describing them. In my own electro play, when set to deliver reasonably gentle to moderate shocks, my body releases endorphins and sends a signal to my brain giving me a feeling of simultaneous pain and pleasure. Some programing rhythms sent to a deeply inserted rectal bullet can cause an overwhelming ecstasy emulating inside the body as the muscles contract, relax and spasm causing my entire body to shake, tremble and shiver as if I am experiencing an everlasting climax ending only when the charge is stopped which pushes me to reach a mental state of bliss. Increasing the level and intensity can be rewarding but more likely punishing to the possible point of excruciating pain, at times the goal in BDSM.
My masters here have set the programing all over the map, driving me insane. The electricity is making my muscles twitch without control, mixing pain with a feeling of helplessness. There are at times a sharp, burning feeling, the zaps causing twitching, pulsing, thrusting, a muscular throbbing feeling. Some start out mild and grow to a point where I’m screaming, although because of the effective gag, all I think can be heard is muffled, unintelligible sounds. Other hits are at full power, lifting me off the horse and slamming me back down re-crushing my tender crotch. The senses I feel are tingling, prickling, vibrating, buzzing, knocking. In any order, or solo, again from mild to intense levels that make my eyes well up, maybe even bulge out. You try to push back a bit to no avail. You never know what is coming next. There is fear in the wait for the next shock to hit to deal with along with the pain.
At times vibration and shocks give a feeling of burning skin being sucked, as it is moved about my skin and muscles. You can feel the pain travel, it will start at the root of my cock and migrate slowly along the entire shaft till it reaches the head. Other times it seems to start on my butt but then it moves to my balls then cock rapidly and then back again. There was one particular mode where when the current flows into my muscles and nerve endings, the surges cause a powerful and erotic throbbing, a coarse bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-boom and this goes on continuously in repetition. It bounces me up and down on the horse as if I am riding at a gallop, jarring my pelvic girdle to rival the electric pain in my muscles. I recall another that I prefer to forget where it starts as a mild, pleasant sensation building slowly to something extremely painful and gliding back down again to pleasant, a cruel ride.
Many of the assaults were with only one device being powered up, other times there were multiple toys firing off, sometimes with similar stimulation modes, but more often with conflicting sensations. The bare powerful painful shocks always overriding whatever else was occurring. There were even times when all four devices were lit up at once, and depending on the modes, I may feel refreshing arousal or sheer agony blasting everywhere in the region.
I want to go home. Honest, I’m sorry, please, please make it stop, says my mind. My ride continues as all I can do is scream and moan into my gag.
But I am not just being tortured by electricity. I am sitting on a device designed to rival, possibly surpass, the pain the E-stem is contributing. Both forms of torture are bad, but the combination seems worse. The shocks make the body jump and convulse. As I said, when that happens, I uncontrollably rise and slam back onto the point. It’s not inches I rise, more like a fraction of an inch, but it takes numbness back to pain and ache. These movements also cause a hard tug on my nipples bringing their pain into the mix. Some of the jolts are raw straight fire, like I experienced in San Diego when they were testing my limits. In my now delirium, I don’t know if they are higher level shocks. They shouldn’t be as that would be questionable conduct per the contract, but with all the combined effects of both tortures I don’t know, I just don’t want it.
While some of the patterns and rhythms they are running aren’t providing ecstasy in me like I get when I play at home, they are of pain/pleasure mode and not pure agony. Before I can enjoy that particular shudder, the next shock is coming in from any or all of four places, destroying what little pleasure was being created. I want to blame my abusers, but actually it is simply a function of the random generator in the control box programming. There are times when all the electro devices are silent, sometimes lasting minutes. These provide a needed respite, but the high anxiety of the anticipation of the imminent restart plays with the mind making this wait time equally cruel.
The agony from the pointed rail on which I sit on the other hand is constant. It is always there. I can’t get away from it. Its level of pain in the form of ache grows as time wears on. It is pinpointed where the contact is and radiates outward. It first attacks the skin layers, then the thin muscles below and finally consumes the bone. It is a crushing hurt. Numbness in time does divert pain to ache, but neither is pleasant nor provides the euphoria of sexual pain/pleasure. And of course, its companion electro shocks cause violent body movements upon the rail, causing my crotch to hit it time and time again along with pinching when other electric movement sends me side to side versus up and down.
As weird as it sounds, I almost want to try riding again, less the electric play, to see its individual effects, a test that need not go for an hour. From sounds I heard earlier of one of the other subs taking a ride, it truly sounded daunting as a standalone. There is no need for electricity, but my many masters here take pleasure in it, so I endure both to serve them.
Despite wanting a single ride someday, I want this session all to stop and be over now. This is absolute suffering. Calling my safe word ‘Red’ to end it certainly enters my thoughts when some of the intense pure straight electric shocks are being blasted into my butt or cock or across my crack and upper thighs or from the constant agony of the unyielding point on which I sit, but I oddly dismiss that action because somewhere in my sick wandering thoughts, I feel that I do deserve to be punished harshly. To someone not undergoing this crazy weekend, that thought is unconceivable, but I have somehow rationalized my torture in the deep recesses of my mind to reach the ridiculous conclusion that I rightfully merited this treatment.
I think I got to that conjecture from the combination of three independent thoughts; one, that at least for this weekend I really am accepting a BDSM submissive existence, not just role playing and this is part of that commitment; two, that I agree I deserve correction for the announced transgression called out by Master of not getting permission to climax, which I knew was a rule; and three, the disconcerting issue that this Mistress, while arguably a man but surely in her mind a women (and perhaps in mine), did sexually excite me, taking me too close to the line than I am comfortable with regarding my thoughts on infidelity as well as my sexual identity. I’m troubled that there was no sexual attraction to the other men here, as they are all clearly men to me, but with her there was. My sexual gratification this weekend had been so far from my fetish of being forced to be sexually used by these men while bound and unable to resist. With ‘her’ though there was arousal beyond just being bound and forced to endure her use of me. So, with those thoughts merging I find a way, both mentally and physically, to accept and endure the onslaught of torture the masters have arranged in retribution for the disobedient and sinful acts I have committed while I served as a submissive to them.
There is one other reason for not using my safe words, pride. There are twelve other men here. It doesn’t matter, gay or straight, they are men. I don’t want to wimp out in front of them saying what they are doing to me, what they enjoy doing to each other regularly, is something I can’t handle. And I have witnessed already this weekend they can and do handle it. Egos can cause a man to do very stupid things. So, I rode the electrified horse.
The ordeal goes on forever, forever being a full hour. As warned, the intensity does ramp up as it continues. This is probably attributed to both a combination of the actual Eros Tek programing and the cumulative nature of this torture on the body and mind, like compounding bank interest. At the end it begins to snowball, and I am close to delirium with my mind in a deep trance when the electrocution abruptly stops. Quickly, with multiple hands, my legs are unclasped from the bar, my nipples untied from the ring, electro leads disconnected, and my body raised off the horse and it is pulled from under me allowing my legs to collapse together. “Your hour is up, you served your penance,” says Master in a nonchalant tone.
Although free of the wooden horse apparatus, just to add a little additional torment to the past hour’s agony, they connect my ankle cuffs together and leave me suspended there in the air from my wrists. There is discomfort about a minute in, first in my shoulders and that then migrates down my arms and goes up and down my sides. Even with the use of suspension cuffs there is pressure on my wrists as they are solely supporting my one-hundred-and-seventy-pound frame. At about the two-and-a-half-minute mark discomfort is increasing to the painful threshold, but my concentration on this predicament is diverted to a new pain as someone begins to whip my rear with a riding crop, rapidly, effectively, with not a spot on either cheek being skipped. My natural reaction is to buck away from the strikes which send me swinging, acerbating my hanging pains. The whipping is in a solid competition for my pain attention, but as even my armpits and neck are beginning to hurt, the totality of hanging pain is winning. At about five to six minutes, the whipping attack stops abruptly, and I am lowered into a heap on the floor. I learned later that it was Mistress that felt that her own personal punishment was warranted and was the one who delivered it.
Chapter 18: eXtra Special Rest and Recuperation
{Sunday 12:00 am - Sunday 2:00 am}
I am allowed to just sit there and recover for about ten minutes. I ache between my legs, the pain still fresh from my brutal ride. It is lingering unlike my previous tortures and will continue to do so for a while. My wrists are still cuffed to the tethered suspension bar now hanging just above my head so I can’t get my hands down to my privates to try to message away the discomfort. The boys return following their short break and the suspension cuffs are detached. I automatically move my hands behind my back knowing they will soon be replaced with handcuffs of some sort. I am exhausted, mentally, and physically. After the abuse my body just endured, I long for more time to recuperate. I want to go to bed and sleep. They removed my ankle cuffs and nipple clamps and with assistance I am stood up and walked to and leaned against what I came to find out is the horizontal X device. Mercifully, the gag is deflated and removed, significantly improving my outlook.
I am offered a beverage that I am told will help me get back some of my stamina. Master says it has both ginseng and ashwagandha in it, supposably popular herbal energy drink adaptogens, both of which I was unfamiliar with as I don’t use energy drinks. (I had to look them up to complete this reference in my journal, the first fights fatigue and increases energy, the second helps lower stress and anxiety, all things that were becoming an issue at that point). I suck it down with a straw. It doesn’t taste bad, but I have had better tasting drinks. I even think it did give me a boost; as I had been fading fast.
They leave the blindfold and hood on. The electro plug, bands and urethra sound also remain. My wrists are released. I am picked up by numerous hands and laid down face up on the flat cross and securely fastened to it. Leather straps cross my ankles, just below my knees, across my thighs, my hips, my stomach, across my chest just below and above my pecs, over my neck and across the bridge of my nose. All snuggly buckled. I cannot move.
I can’t believe they had not taken off the electro toys and I can feel them reconnecting the leads. How after the past hour could they shock me again? But it’s not like that. The program that starts is like the one I use at home that can drive me to the highs of sexual ecstasy. And this one is starting out slow and soft. It is soothing. All electrodes send similar mild pleasure and pain stimulations. I am having to adjust to the sensations that the sounding electro plug is injecting in my urethra as it has never had such arousal and by natural tenderness of the area the feelings are more intense even at the low settings and modes being sent. The program is on a random timer, running for about three minutes and then going off for anywhere from two to six minutes before resuming. The setting I find in time is also set to ramp up as time passes. By the end I would be bouncing off the table in ecstasy if my restraints allowed, they don’t, so I fiercely strain against them instead as endorphins flood in causing a euphoria from the artificially created sexual bliss. This is not a reward, it is a different kind of punishment, as the body desperately wants to climax, and I can’t as I am unable to gasp my cock and the interruption of the program by the timer makes this a perfect edging manipulation. I can feel my body arch up as my genitals are straining to self-masturbate or rub against anything to finish it.
I do my best to get some rest while this is happening, and during the earlier stages I doze off for short periods of time but the zaps regularly re-wake me and the effects of the drink are kicking in giving me a wide eye caffeine like effect. The electro interruptions are not the only ones I experience. At least three or four times, always when I am trying to catnap, a cock is set down on my lips and I am told to lick. They are not blow jobs per se, as the angle is not conducive for it, but a licking up and down the shaft that can still be pleasurable to the owner. I know twice it was Sir Michael’s. He also once straddled my face and ordered me to lick his balls and bag. It was good to know he was still there watching over me despite the task. About halfway through someone put clothespins on my nipples and the pins stayed on for about a half-hour. There was also an occasion where a tourist with a multi-wheel Wartenberg pinwheel travelled all over my body. It happened soon after the clothespins had been removed and they made a special effort to cross over and run circles around the sore and tender nipples numerous times.
I was tied down for two hours. It was one of the best devices I had been bound to the whole weekend as I got necessary recuperation time, if not maybe a little sleep. I was pleased that the abuse was limited, and the stimulation in my groin, while frustratingly incomplete, were the most pleasurable device stimulation I had received.
Chapter 19: Doing My Time for an Unknown Crime
{Sunday 2:00 am - 4:00 am}
My electro pleasure ended with a sudden, nasty one-time shock to all three toys. It was especially harsh as it was unexpected and so different from what they had been sending, the sound rod was murder. I was unbuckled from the X, hands cuffed, and the electro toys removed. I could tell when the sound was removed that my urethra was irritated from its lengthy three hour plus insertion. That irritation would continue to be noticeable each time I peed. It lasted for about two days as did the crack soreness from the horse rail.
I was moved to the dungeon cell and imprisoned. The shackles are cold black steel, at least an inch and a half wide and a quarter inch thick. They have pin style hinges and are locked closed with screw down omega loops. Each ring is fastened to the stone wall with thick black steel chains. First to be placed was the neck collar, followed by the wrists, legs and finally the waist. These were heavy, unyielding and for some reason made me become more aware of my nakedness. The chains allowed for some although limited movement. I was upright and would not be able to change that position. The cell door was closed and locked.
And there I stood. In time it would become tiring and uncomfortable. I was left alone to my thoughts and to take in the views and activities of the dungeon. I really wasn’t the only one here to be used and disciplined. I had seen many women in bondage videos tied down to a Sybian and made to endure its rotating dong in their pussies and the extreme vibration of their clits. I had never really thought of it as a toy to likewise abuse men. Yet protruding from the discipline wall has a Sybian unit about five feet off the floor. I watched as one of the subs was hoisted up over it and dropped down onto a large rubber penis that disappeared inside of him. He squirms as he tries to get situated and comfortable on the Sybian’s textured vibration pad. His arms are secured by pipes wide of and above his shoulders. His neck is captured next and then his legs are spread wide, pressing his crotch and ball sack against the vibration pad. For good measure, they place tweezer clamps with little bells on his nipples. I then watch the show as three of the masters take turns adjusting the rotation speed and the vibration intensity on the machine, driving him wild. He does all he can to try and adjust his position but with the combination of his own body weight and the unyielding restraints he can do nothing but suffer his ecstasy. About fifteen minutes into his ordeal the vibration gets the best of him, and he uncontrollably shoots his load from his rock-hard dancing cock. It goes all over the floor in front of him. It matters not at the moment because the masters have no intent on letting him down or shutting off the dastardly machine. This causes the sub intense discomfort as it is, I guess, like post milking a man after climaxing, very difficult to endure. The masters are having a great time at his expense. I’m glad it’s not me. I am wondering if later I will be forced to take a turn. When he is finally released, almost delirious and completely spent, he is made to lick up all his mess on the floor with his tongue. He looked like he enjoyed that part of the ordeal.
Another sub had to also endure mechanical stimulation. He had taken my place on the chair. Firmly attached to his cock was the penis auto masturbator. Luckily, he wasn’t drinking pee or having his butt fucked as I did. The milking machine was going to town on his dick, and it wasn’t long till he shot his load. Of course, his tormentor kept the machine going full out as he squirmed against his binds, going nearly insane from the over stimulation of his expired member. I felt his pain and suffering and was relieved that this time it wasn’t me, but then annoyed that his master soon ended his torment before he even was forced to ejaculate a second time. My anguish had gone on and on.
The benches also get a lot of use. More than one sub was bound to them during my time on the wall. One sub was taking on both Sir Michael and his master, one using his mouth, the other his butt and they would rotate their positions periodically. I was impressed that the sub seemed to have no problem handling Sir Michael’s size in either hole. Sir seemed to be quite delighted regardless of which end he was working. I know orally I can’t do that for him. He did see me watching him and he waved, showing off, knowing he was in demand.
A sub is laid on the floor not too far from me and is maneuvered into a large black rubber vacbed, one of those bondage toys that with the air sucked out of the bag it collapses around the victim holding them skin tight. I had seen these on-line and was interested in seeing it used. It seemed like a kind of bondage I might enjoy. The bag had PVC tubes that made a rectangular frame that held the bag. With the sub placed on his back and centered in the open bag, they folded one side of the top over him. This had a mouth breathing tube assembly molded into the inside whose tube penetrated the outside of the bag by about four inches. They put the mouthpiece into his mouth, laid the second side of the bag over him and sealed them together. The task of evacuating the air with an attached canister vacuum cleaner began. It went quickly and the rubber encased him tightly so you could see all his features including his ample package. It was interesting to see how tight the rubber was around his entire face, and his arms and legs, both of which were slightly spread, making the rubber press against all sides holding him tight. It seemed to me like a combination of stretch wrap bondage and rubber latex clothes. Seeing it live, I know I want to try this someday.
Well, I thought that until I saw them starting to do breath-play with him. They would sit beside him and put a thumb over the hole sealing off all his air, holding it until the sub would start to arch his body and buck. They would give him a quick breath and cover the hole again. This went on for numerous rotations and they would keep him fighting his bonds for a time before letting him breathe. I assume this was terrifying to the sub, but to people who like breath play, it may have been a rush for him. He was left alone in his bonds for maybe a half an hour. I don’t think there is much other play you could do with him. I would think a vibrator in him would be nice. I don’t know how you could do electro play as there is nowhere for the leads to exit the suit. I guess you could whip him, but the bag would take on some of the sting and on the floor lying flat would be tougher to land good blows. As you can tell, chained to the wall I had plenty of time to contemplate these things.
Another activity that caught my attention was the boys going at it on the sling. Sometimes it was a Dom/sub thing with the sub cuffed to the chains, other times it was just two gay men enjoying themselves. One hookup was Sir Michael and the Host with Sir serving as the bottom. Both seemed to be having a grand time.
I was left alone on the wall for the entire time I was held, except for a single visit I had about halfway through my sentence. It proved to be quite unpleasant. “You ever use this at the gym? The penetrating heat is great for aching and strained muscles,” commented the older master, the one with the Corvette, as he showed me a container of Atomic Balm. Seemingly, the only muscle soreness he was concerned with was in my scrotum, as that is the only place he applied the handful he scooped from the tub with his surgical-glove-protected hand, rubbing it deeply into my pouch so it would surely awaken my testicles. He follows up with a dab on each of my nipples.
He left and locked the cell door as soon as he was done without saying anything more. Maybe on my shoulders this balm would have been beneficial, but on the skin of my straight blade shaved balls it is a burn that is building minute by minute to an excruciating level. The Vicks VapoRub that I was assaulted with in San Diego built to a level of unpleasantness, but manageable. This stuff is through the roof. All I want to do is cup my balls with my hands, wipe this crap off, and ice them down, but my chains and situation prohibit it. Oh God, does it burn. A deep burning sensation.
Eventually my body gives up and collapses. I hang limp in the irons as I whimper in agony. It probably takes a good twenty minutes for it to subside from stinging to a generalized ache as my body adjusts to its presence. It’s funny, even though this was way beyond my enjoyable pain/pleasure euphoria’s, there was still a high from it. I think due to the massive number of endorphins released from the combination of fighting the restraints, irritation of my sexual organs, and deep growing burn pain.
My mind is onto other things, and I am back to watching the merriment of the others using the playground equipment when Master, Sir Michael and two of the other masters enter the cell. All the other activities in the playroom come to a noticeable stop.
Chapter 20: Charged and Condemned for Debauchery
{Sunday 4:00 am - 7:30 am}
“You have been charged with debauchery. You willingly engaged in excessive indulgence of sensual pleasures by having relations with no less than twelve men, who you enticed with your nakedness and your desire to be bound and used by them. After witnessing your glee in this self-pleasure-seeking promiscuity, we have come to find it disgusting, immoral and sinful in our eyes. As such, you have been placed in chains for the past two hours to contemplate your acts and during that time you have shown no remorse for your wickedness as you hung there, just wallowing in your own indignant self-righteousness. We all grudgingly had to partake in your requirement for you to be bound in order for you to serve us, acts that should have been done for us voluntarily as a guest in this home. You gave us a list of filthy sex acts that you desired and then insisted we force you to do them, thus making us look like the villains and putting the masters into a subservient role to you, a role you did not earn nor one that we can let be known occurred and therefore you must disappear. As such, there is no need for a trial to determine culpability as the Masters without need for debate all find you guilty as accused. Your mandatory sentence for your sins will be carried out immediately. There is no appeal,” states Master sternly, almost angrily, to me.
Willingly? It is understood that I don’t like or want sex with men. I was bound and then forced by them. Well, I did volunteer to be bound so that they could force me, but it was just to make my fantasy real… Ok, so I had a part, maybe you could say I started it, but am I really the catalyst for their deviant behavior, they are blaming me. I was invited here. I didn’t mean to make them subservient to me, I thought they wanted to do this, I was the entertainment. And hey, wallowing on the wall? My balls were on fire… that was a reasonable response, I thought I had handled it well. So, some of what he just said may have some truth, but it’s still a trumped-up story, an excuse to punish me, what’s this one going to be? They really don’t require a reason per the Contract to punish me, why create a story? It was a powerful one, could they be setting a basis for a torture more savage than the horse? Oh, stop your silent bitching, you wanted to do this, I guess I’m just fatigued from the intensity of the abuse and lack of sleep.
My neck, wrist, waist, and ankle shackles are removed in that order. While still in the cell my wrists are secured together behind my back this time with rope, a novelty for this weekend. I am then told to open my mouth which is then filled with a large piece of sponge that expands in my mouth completely filling it. It is then held in place with multiple wraps around my face and head with clear shipping tape pulling my cheeks inward, trapping my tongue to the bottom of my mouth and sealing my lips so I can only breathe from my nose. This is the most severe and effective gag I have had. I was then gripped firmly on each side by Master and Sir Michael and walked to the doors and taken outside to near the gazebo where the swing was located. The swing is gone. In its place is a white painted, well-made sturdy platform that matches the style of the gazebo. It is about four feet high, five feet wide and eight feet long and has three steps on one end so the platform can be accessed. It has a railing running up the stairs and along the back and far side, while it is open in the front. It is built to sit precisely within the two vertical, square, five by five columns that rise about twelve feet from the ground where a matching crossbeam runs between them. The beam and columns had previously served to hold the suspended garden swing.
What has my greater attention though is the single thick rope with a noose that hangs from the beam’s midpoint, dangling over the center of the platform. I am held firmly in front of the obvious ‘gallows’, as Master says, “Test it.” I watch as one of the subs puts a sandbag on the center of the platform and a person wearing a full leather executioner’s hood pulls a lever on the platform. The bag disappears from view as two doors in the floor swing down. That shook me. This looks very authentic and functional, and they are making sure I understand that.
The trap door is reset. “Put the condemned on the scaffold,” orders Master, and I am forcefully taken up the stairs and turned outwards on the platform. I look out and see that most of the guests are gathered around. Sir Michael is there. He has a serious, intense, determined look on his face. No one in the crowd seemed to be smiling, there almost appears to be an air of apprehension amongst them, especially with the submissives. They are the last thing I am to see. A loose fitted, thin leather bag style hood with no openings is put over my head and neck, draping down to my shoulders. With the hood on I can notice that my breathing has gotten somewhat rapid. My treatment is not like the preparations for my previous sexual uses or punishments. It is more aggressive and performed with deliberate purpose. I feel ropes being tied around my ankles and then around my legs just above the knees. My hands remain tied behind my back, the awful sponge gag still sealing my mouth. It is then that the noose is dropped over my head and tightened around my neck pulling the leather hood tight to me. “Take the slack out of the rope.” I feel the noose press against my head as the standing end is drawn upward. My mind rationalizes at first that they are just playing with me, but then doubts come flooding in.
All the bondage equipment and furniture they have here is designed for a unique specific malicious purpose. The masters have exploited the full intended capabilities of each piece they put me on. Nothing was for show. My crotch was made to ride on an electrified point of the genitalia abusing horse, I was secured to a St. Andrew’s cross and striped head to toe, I was strapped to a bench and fucked, then the soiled pricks put in my mouth, I was tied to a chair, my privates, front and back, violently assaulted while slowly made to consume the urine of many, drip by drip, I was hung by cable from the ceiling for hours on end. Real BDSM practitioners who tortured me knowing I couldn’t resist, and they took delight in my suffering.
Here I am again bound and can’t resist. Could this, just like all the others, also be happening for real, are they really going to hang me? Is this their fantasy that they are getting to act out for real because they can? I don’t know these guys, I only know Michael, they could be real sadists. But murderers? No, that’s ridiculous. Although, why else would they have built these gallows? They had hidden the platform from me, it wasn’t here on the tour, there was no noose, this all was disguised as a simple swing. They obviously didn’t want me to know what was going to happen to me. This is an expensive prop, they went to a lot of effort to set this up, they wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if they didn’t really want to hang someone, would they? They didn’t have any other play toys here just for show, they use them, used them on me. From the get-go I was just to be the entertainment, some straight guy they don’t know who was given to them to abuse, I’m a prop, a toy, a non-entity. They can just dispose of me, no one knows I’m here, wherever ‘here’ is, but Michael. He’s my best friend, he wouldn’t do this, I know he wouldn’t, would he? He did ask me if I wanted to be tied up and drowned on the beach in San Diego, is this a kink of his I didn’t know about?
Just as I am trying to justify that he’d be my protector and not a predator, Sir Michael, now standing behind me says to me quietly, “Don’t worry, Bobbie, one of the other submissives who sometimes plays here is a county coroner, he will put on your death certificate that you died of a heart attack while swimming. Amy will never know about this and all the warped things you had us do to you. I will keep your perverted sick fantasies a secret from her.” He then adds in a more sinister tone, “Just so you know, don’t expect to rest in peace after you're gone as we are going to screw your corpse. It’s my turn now to do something I have fantasized about for a long time and without you I would never have got a chance. Don’t worry, I’ll have them keep your body tied as we do you, cause that’s the way you’d like it, you twisted fuck toy. And, by the way, the best thing to me is I get to leave all my cum in your ass one last time so I’ll be forever part of your ashes.” And then I hear him walk away and down the steps.
He is part of this, why is he doing this to me, is it true what he just said? I’m his friend, why, why me? Because he’s the sick fuck, I never knew! I am in such shock, so confused, so tired, so anxious, my mind is playing tricks, I can’t tell if I am dreaming this or if this is real. I can’t risk it; I scream out RED, but I can tell that my sounds are not able to exit my gag throttled throat. Nobody comes to my rescue. I stand there, how long I’m not sure, could have been seconds, maybe a minute or two. My brain tells my body to try and escape but I am frozen in fear. I am shaking violently, and I feel tears rolling down from my eyes. My swirling mind rushes from what was just said to me to flashes of my wife and kids, and then I hear, “Do it.”
It is staggering to sense the floor dropping out from under your feet knowing you are held by a rope around your neck. I immediately begin to fall and sense the pressure of the noose pulling up on my chin and pushing back on my head and tightening around my neck…. Then in the next instant my feet hit a soft floor followed by me falling backward where I am caught by waiting arms. I hear cheering and applause as I am lifted back up on the platform and stabilized, the rope no longer taught.
About five seconds later with me still shaking uncontrollably I am asked, “You want to do it again?” I rigorously shake my head ‘no!’ as I still can’t utter a sound. Those fuckers, they scared me to death, literally that is. I am still pulsing, trembling, my heart racing. It may have been just a millisecond in time but for that instant all the sounds and sensations were so vividly real to me and are now indelibly printed in my mind forever. I was being hung; I was going to die. I can still hear the collection of sounds; that of the lever being pulled, the doors banging open, the creek of the noose, the cry out of “Nooooo’ in my muted throat. I can clearly feel the loss of footing and dropping, the pull back, clinching, and awkward bending of my neck, the banging of the rope against my head. My immediate attempt to push out my legs and arms against their bonds to catch myself, only to be held fast by the ropes. And the traumatic emotional panic and horror in my brain. All these sensations and feelings collide in a single moment in time.
My noose is removed, along with the hood. Mercifully, so is the tape and sponge gag, however, it doesn’t really matter, I am so shocked I am unable to speak. Master takes a large sharp knife he had there for safety and easily slices the rope about a foot above the noose. He says, “This is yours to take home with you to remember the experience. Welcome to the brotherhood of true servitude. Every one of the subs here with you this weekend has previously been subjected to the same initiation ritual you just did when they first came to play. You have proven yourself to be a genuine submissive by serving us all this weekend, never breaking, or copping out with safe words to avoid or stop your involuntary use and punishments and I grant you permission, while in this home, to serve and be used by the Dominants who play here in the manner you desire, forced while bound. I’ll add that you are the first straight man granted such a consent to serve us, to be part of us, to be a member of our private club. I beg of you to please ignore my sentencing speech, none of what I accused you of is true, it was just a script to set up the scene for you, to suck you in, I apologize, but it did appear to work.” It had.
For the curious, they had an assisted-braking device like rappelers use, a governor of sorts, on the hanging rope so that it would descend with me as I dropped, keeping a slight tension on it to give the illusion that it was tightening and unyielding. It only needed to do that for the millisecond it took me to fall about three feet to the cushioned landing. It worked perfectly, giving the sensation of an unyielding rope, yet moving with me as I fell, never putting me at risk. It was even equipped with a backup excess tension release for additional safety. It lasted for less than a second, but in that very short time, it felt so real, and that sensation of the actual hanging is burned forever into my memory. They did a terrific job of playing with my mind in the lead up to and delivery of my execution and I am sure someday I’ll forgive my best friend for his convincing theatrical role in this that pushed me over the edge. In my altered exhausted mental state, he was so believable.
I never had these thoughts before, but now I find myself pondering about the horror it would be if there was no governor, no soft landing. The hangman’s knot used was not the more conventional cervical fracturing type with a bunch of rope rings that snaps the neck when dropped, but the smaller loop tightening type that squeezes the throat to cause strangulation. That would mean if it were a true hanging, death would not be rapid, but a slow, horrifying way to go. What if my new play friends were extreme sadists, who would delight in watching me swing from the rope, masturbating while viewing my eventual strangulation, death? These thoughts now occasionally haunt me as I had foolishly allowed a group of unknown BDSM kinksters to bind me so I could not resist them. I was completely at their mercy and defenseless to their whims, whatever they may be. Let me make it clear, the ultimate suffering and death from hanging or other modes is no fantasy of mine, it scares the pants off me. Also, be assured every one of these twelve men proved to be good guys who were sincerely trying to help me live my bondage and use fantasy, of course, while still entertaining themselves at their play date weekend. No dangerous sadists were amongst them. I was lucky, one might suggest.
My time on the platform was not over. The theatrics were done, now it was back to my bondage servitude. I remained tied as I was, but I was turned around, so I was looking out over the pool. A leather collar with rings was put on my neck and a long rope that was threaded through one of the eye-hooks that would have held the swing and attached to one of the side rings of the hood. Master, Sir Michael, Mistress and some of the other masters made themselves comfortable on Adirondack chairs near the platform. Master held onto the other end of my collar rope, which he pulled on till I was lifted onto my toes. He then gave it just a little slack letting my feet come back flat on the platform deck, yet still taught enough to cause my neck to be stretched up and slightly pulled to one side. He then tied it off to the arm of his chair. They began to chat as I remained tied, held upright by my neck, not necessarily uncomfortable, with my heart rate and respiration still somewhat elevated. So much to internalize.
I gazed out over the pool. In the darkness of the late night, the low accent lighting around the pool and hardscape was beautiful, the setting so serene. Looking way off in the distance you can see a bright colorful sky from the lights of Vegas. Incredible. I was actually enjoying this recuperation, although what had just happened still wasn’t settled completely. I do like bondage, and at this moment my situation was not severe, nor was I being used or abused. I watched a couple of the boys playing in the pool. One Dom was laying on a chaise lounge with his cock being sucked by who I assume is his mate, but it could have been another sub. And there was one sub in a similar predicament as I, with him being bound to the arbor. For the moment he wasn’t being tormented either. I had enough movement that I was able to somewhat turn back to look at the group with me. They were just chatting, sipping beers, and munching on healthy vegetables and dips. When Master noticed me watching, he pulled on the rope bringing me back forward and up on my toes. He refastened his knot to hold me that way for a while. A little more strenuous but not unbearable. It does invoke a bit of a strangling feeling though. About ten minutes later I was let back down again, only to be re-hoisted up, then back down about every five to ten minutes. I was still serving as entertainment.
At one point Sir Michael climbed the stairs and said, “I feel like I am neglecting you.” And showed his regret by placing a clothespin on each of my nipples, then adding one on each side of the first two pins. The six pins stayed on for about ten minutes when Mistress boarded the platform, turning me sideways so that she would have access to the front of me and proceeded to use her riding crop to painfully dislodge the clips from my body. Just my luck, one of the center nipple pins was only partially dislodged with one of the hits, causing it to dangle from the tip of the nipple, excruciatingly painful, until three hits later when it was whipped free of me.
When in servitude pain can be better internalized if you sense that the dominant is getting true pleasure from the abuse they are delivering. Mistress had a big smile on her face and was nearly dancing as she took her strokes. At least this time she was not causing me to get excited, I had learned that lesson. When she finished, she exclaimed to Master, “I am so glad you convinced me to come, this has been one of my favorite parties here.”
You can tell it is late at night as the activities, while still occurring, are more subdued. I do see that the sub was whipped while tied to the arbor and when released gave his master an oral servicing that brought him close to the brink before the master extracted himself and took the sub by the hand and walked him into the pool for a late-night skinny dip. The crowd also seems to thin out with some couples heading back inside via the primary entrance to the pool and not the dungeon. I assume they were heading to their bedrooms. Mistress also headed inside. I still can’t believe how good looking she is as I watch her walk down the walkway to the house.
Daybreak this Sunday Las Vegas morning came about 5:30 am. They have kept me hanging from my neck tether so that I can watch the sun come up over the horizon along with the few others who remained outside. This is a superb place to have a home, the sunrises are breathtaking. I’m glad they kept me outside for this. My legs and ankles are then untied, and my collar unbuckled by my morning attendant, and he takes me back inside to start my morning workout, wash routine, and breakfast, my wrists, of course remaining tied together for the trip in. When I am done about two hours later, I am presented to Master, to continue my contracted servitude despite being ruthlessly weary.
Chapter 21: You Can Kiss That Train Goodbye
{Sunday 7:30 am - 10:00 am}
“Do you want to play a game? I guess you really don’t have any choice in the matter, so let me rephrase that. We are going to play a game called ‘Party Bottom,’ you are going to serve kind of like the game board, which in this game is the party bottom. I know you don’t really understand so I’ll tell you the rules. You’ll be leaving us soon, so everyone is going to say goodbye to you while you are strapped to a pegging bench. They will do it by letting you suck them to get them ready. They are then going to fuck you. Each of the subs will have ten minutes to cum in your ass. If they fail to do so, they will be given a smack on the butt with a fraternity paddle by Sir Michael for failing to properly service his sub.
“That will be followed by a single smack with a regular leather paddle by each of the other participants. If the sub does cum in your rectum, then he will be given the fraternity paddle to give you a smack on your ass, followed by each of the others giving you a hit with the smaller paddle. The Doms will be given fifteen minutes to cum. If they fail or succeed, then the same paddle sequence will occur to them or you. After each fraternity paddle hit you will clearly call out ‘Thank you Sir or Master,’ whichever is appropriate. Do not say the trite ‘May I have another’ because you are getting eleven more hits if you ask for them or not. Sir Michael will be the last to use you and he will have no time limit with you because you belong to him. Before the failure or reward punishments are given, if the performers were Doms, then their dicks will be cleaned. The Doms have the option of using their own subs or you. I’ll let you know right now I am not having my beloved sub suck me clean after it’s been in your ass with everyone else’s cum, lube and your shit. The subs don’t need to be cleaned as they are dirty creatures by nature. However, if it is the pleasure of the individual Dom to have their sub cleaned, then I guess you are on the spot for that.
“By the way, if you haven’t just done the math in your head, if everyone max’s out their time you will be ass fucked for well over two hours and if they all cum, paddled one hundred and twenty times. Isn’t this a fantastic game? Now let’s get you into position and strapped down. I don’t want you to leave before the fun begins. Also, Sir Michael and I will be serving as the game referees, I won’t be throwing a red flag, I’ll be swinging a beaded red cat-o-nine tails, so I suggest you don’t get penalized for flouting the rules.”
I am moved to the familiar open leg pegging bench which now has its headrest removed. There my transport bonds are removed along with my Bitch collar. It is replaced by a four-inch-wide thick leather collar that has multiple attachment rings and two securing buckles that are firmly fastened around my stretched neck. I climb up with the help of a hand slap to my bottom. My arms, legs, and chest are strapped down tight, tighter than my past visits to the bench. They secure two of the side neck rings to the bench. My head can move, but it is limited to a minimal up and down, side to side pivoting. I am blindfolded, then I hear, “No, take that off, he should see this. I don’t ever recall being at a play party where one straight guy or any guy for that matter gets fucked by twelve different dicks in a row, but it’s going to happen here and he’s going to be the lucky guy, why not witness your own unending abuse?” ending with a laugh while pointing at me. I don’t think it’s funny. Maybe it is just because I am so tired, sore, and basically physically and mentally burned out. I try to concentrate on the fact that I am bound tight, not able to resist, being forced to be sexually abused, my ultimate bondage fantasy, but even that has lost its appeal. I kind of wish I had a ring gag, but I know that would make for lousy oral delivery and the boys won’t like that. I think that’s why my head now has some movement, so I can do a better job. This broken submissive will submit, I will be the entertainment, I signed the contract. I am a fool.
It takes a little while; they are still assembling everybody together. From the background conversations, I hear some were still finishing breakfast, another had just taken a quick shower. One sub was being taken down from the St. Andrews Cross where, apparently, he had been strapped for the last few hours. I’m glad for the extra time as it helps me come to terms with my current physical and mental state and allows me to accept what is about to happen to me with a little eagerness, convincing myself that they have created reality of my utmost fantasy, fulfilling my desires and; therefore, that I should do my best to perform my service and serve as a useful vessel for the sexual gratifications sought by those who will abuse me. Besides, these guys like me, and said I could join their fraternity; when you are mentally and physically depleted it is easy to get sucked into the events around you.
(Round #1) And so, it begins simply with one of the subs walking up to my head, him taking his erect dick into his hand and pushing it against my lips. I open my mouth. The hard penis glides in. I close my lips around the shaft, rub my tongue on the underside as he grips my head as he thrusts forward and back. He sets a nice tempo, rocking his body, using my head for leverage. He is warned to not lose his load, it’s to go in my butt. I’m worked for about four to five minutes when he releases my head, pulls free and moves around the bench to the rear, patting my back with his hand as he goes. A handful of cold lube is pressed into my hole and smeared up and down my crack. And then I feel the head of his dick rubbing up and down my crack. He positions it against my hole and pushes it forward with the help of his hand. My butt has been stretched wide a lot this weekend, so it accepts this intruder without much resistance, with the lube reducing the friction to a minimum.
He goes right to work as he is on a time schedule. Ten minutes to shoot his load or suffer. There isn’t anything for me to do now other than to ‘take it like a man’. He’s concentrating hard at getting it done, setting a rhythm and pace that keeps him aroused. I’m sure he is fantasizing about whatever gets him excited, trying to block out all the others who are watching him and even giving him encouragement. He has been at it a while when I notice a speeding up and longer deeper penetrations the telltale signs of a coming climax as he grabs hold of my body for support, tenses up, breaths heavy, gasps and stops hard movement and makes ever so slight in and out pulse movements as the cum is discharge within me. He holds still for a minute or two, resting and enjoying the final pulsations, then he withdrawals. While I am still new to this, the slipping out of a wilting dick is both a physical and mental odd feeling each time.
There is some conversation behind me that I didn’t really hear but I got the gist of it when he was back standing in front of me, his somewhat limp dick in front of my face. I didn’t react fast enough for someone because my ass is struck with the cat-o-nine tails; obviously a ref saw this as a foul, and I just was given a warning to keep up with the program. I open my mouth quickly and he puts his dick back in my mouth. The dominant taste is lube, thank God. I close my lips around him and lick around his shaft quickly and reopen, hoping it was good enough. He pulls back out and walks away. I guess it was.
It happens quickly, a very hard strike extending across both ass cheeks. I let out an uncontrolled, “Oh, shit, oww,” followed by my required response, “Thank you Sir.” Then every few seconds another hit on my cheeks, randomly selected, till all eleven additional blows had been delivered. My butt must be red, it’s stinging. I don’t know if I am going to get through this.
(Round #2) But there is no time to reflect, there is another firm dick at my mouth. I open, it is thrust in, I close and do my job, and he does his. He’s anxious to get to the good part so he pulls from mouth sooner than my last user. I didn’t really notice when he was in my mouth as I was still dealing with my smarting ass cheeks, but I can tell as he enters my butt canal, he is a bit longer, nothing like Sir Michael. No one here this weekend matched him. He is working me hard and it’s easy to tell he’s getting intense gratification going in and out of me. No question in my mind he is going to climax. I will be paddled again. Funny that being smacked is my biggest worry, not the gay man fucking my butt as I lay tied down to a bench unable to resist. I did not really see who this was when he was in front of me, but he is taking his time, no urgency so I figure he must have fifteen minutes to work with. About halfway through he did stop to re-lube me, not sure if it was for my benefit or his. He got his assignment done, and by his moans in the end, he was happy in his work. I was correct, he was a Dom, and he elected to use me and not his sub to clean up. His fraternity hit is not as vicious as the first one I received, maybe he’s grateful for doing me or maybe he’s tired like me. “Thank you, Master.” Eleven hits to my cheeks later and there is another dick at my mouth.
(Round #3) I don’t notice who this was either when he approached so try to tell by the feel of the dick in my mouth, but I can’t. There were just too many confusing oral penetrations the last two days, I just don’t know. Maybe this is what a street prostitute feels like being used by so many, the johns have become nondescript. I am starting to feel like a piece of worthless meat, and I am still a long way from being done, being a sexual object, used and abused. He is now pounding away at my butt. I have lost track of how long he has been at it. He does seem to be having a fun time pounding me, appearing to be hard the whole time, but I hear Master say “Time.” He hadn’t gone in me. I am not going to be hit this time and I am delighted. The hits have not been within my pain/pleasure spectrum. There is a pause in the action, and I see them move a second pegging bench in front of me. My last assailant is told to mount it, has his legs and arms strapped down and I am told “Watch and enjoy.” Sir Michael steps up and wallops his butt with the large paddle. He jumps when hit, but with the restraints, goes nowhere. He also keeps silent, not a whimper, this is not new to him. It is then ten more licks with the smaller leather paddle that is passed around to each of his fellow subs and dominants. One less than I get, because I don’t get a turn. Right at this point I am glad to be just watching and not receiving.
There is some conversation, and then I am told. We have decided to give this submissive another chance to prove himself. He needs to learn to do what his master wants even if it is not something he enjoys. In this case it is butt fucking, he is a bottom and doesn’t like topping. The sub makes himself hard, remounts me and after a few minutes successfully adds to the cum in my butt. He gets no reward other than the satisfaction of pleasing his master. My butt cheeks are not assaulted in this rotation, and I don’t clean him.
(Round #4) My short break was over as there was another dick in my face, number four. I open and go to work on a penis that has a bit more girth but a length like the previous. My sucking doesn’t have a lot of enthusiasm, but I do want it to be effective, as I prefer that this oral work that I must do to make the user hard should end quickly. The butt work, strange as it sounds, is more tolerable mentally.
One reason I think is with the butt I have absolutely no control, but with the tongue work, unless I have a ring gag forcing my mouth open, I am a somewhat willing party to the blow job, and so minimal ‘forced’ sexual gratification from it. It is the polar opposite to me licking my wife’s pussy which is my favorite sexual activity. When she has me lick her while I am bound it is off the charts. The collision of my two sexual personalities, heterosexual sex and bondage. So, now I am relying on the knowledge that if I refuse to suck this dick, the discipline I would be subjected to would be severe. I also keep reminding myself that this complete package is my warped fantasy come to life; enjoy the reality while you can, it will all be gone when you head home.
The dick has left my mouth and is being inserted in my rear. Maybe it was a lack of sufficient lube or the added girth but this one hurt as he pushed in. It takes a good five or six thrusts in and out before I start to loosen, and the pain dissipates. He keeps a rapid pace, but his thrusts are deep bringing his body tight against mine as he bottoms out his strokes. His pace gets the job done quickly and his load is within me faster than any of the others. I hear his Dominant direct him to have me clean him and I have my mouth open and waiting as he comes around to my face. I remember how this act was one of the most traumatic to me when Sir Michael insisted on it in San Diego. Now it is something I just want to get done and over with. There is enough cum clinging to his dick that it is now coating my tongue and cheeks. The unpleasant taste starts to linger. It’s funny, I expected by now there would be an awful flavor in my mouth of my own excrement, but there has not been. The regular douching I have been subjected to must have really worked. I’m whacked twelve times and I begin to worry that this may leave bruising. I’m sure my cheeks are beet red, but that will go away.
(Round #5) Next up was the uncircumcised fellow. I’m sure it’s psychological, but his member feels gross in my mouth. Now all the cocks are distasteful, but this is a different dislike. I am thankful he was the only one uncut this weekend. He probably didn’t get my best work, he wasn’t very hard when he pulled out, and I was pleased he didn’t stay long in my mouth. He was hard when he got to my rear though, I assume his own hand stroking played a role. I was re-lubed and in he came. I must have been a good fit for him or maybe I was set up at just the right angle and height for him because his uttered moans of ecstasy went on and on as took his full time in me. He would speed up, then slow down, push deep and make long thrusts, then take rapid short strokes. When he finally shot his load, and boy did he cum, he kept thrusting in for a while, moaning louder and trembling before finally collapsing onto my back.
“That was my best fuck in a long time, it great to have a tight ass given to you. Will you have him here next month to play with too? I’ll chip in for his airfare.” I really don’t deserve credit, bound and presented as I am, my hole is just there for anyone to use, there isn’t much for me to do other than take it. Cleaning an uncut dick is even more gross. This owner even helps by pulling back on his shaft to expose the tip for licking. I feel myself squeezing my eyes closed as I work on it. It even seems to taste bad, more so than the others have. He is covered by more cum and the fresh lube than his predecessors, this will likely continue as there will be more and more jizzum left in my butt. He is also still oozing cum from his slit, more than the others. I guess he has avoided ejaculating all weekend until now or his ball production is much better than mine. He must have been satisfied with my service because he pulled himself out while I was still rubbing my tongue over the loose skin of his shaft. His strike across my butt indicated he had recovered some of his strength he had put into screwing my hole. Or maybe just the accumulation of smacks was taking a toll as the eleven other hits stung more and lingered longer.
(Round #6) I was pleased that the next dick in my mouth was circumcised and that the rest of them should be also. This one was also on the average size, so I could handle it much better in my mouth. It didn’t do anything to relieve the accumulation of foul cum and lube building up in there. He stayed a little longer, getting reasonably hard before he took my butt on. This fellow fucked me nicely, taking pleasure being in me, making the most out of his appearance and cumming towards the end of his time. He was licked clean like the rest; I was paddled the required twelve times, and it was on to the next player.
(Round #7) At this point I believe I have moved into machine mode. I’ve lost track of how many have fucked me, I am on autopilot when sucking this guy, and trying to nap as my butt is assaulted. This is one of the fifteen-minute rides, and I try to ignore the pounding as I close my eyes and rest before I have to lick the cum off and be hit again. I made a mistake, by saying ‘Thank you Sir’ instead of the proper ‘Thank you Master’. A ref responded with multiple swings of the whip between my legs, nailing my cock and balls, nearly bringing tears to my eyes as I did all I could to not cry out. I must concentrate on what I am doing.
(Round #8) “Hi sweety, you ready to give me some more sweet loving? Are you going to get hard for me again?” My leather clad Dominatrix parades in front of me. This perks me up. She makes sure I get a good look at her, and then she bends over and gives me a gentle kiss on my cheek. A short, wooden box is placed on the floor so she can step up and put her dick in my mouth. I go to work, and much to my shame, I more enthusiastically begin to service her, as I close my eyes and think about her leather clad slender legs and her cute little breasts. I haven’t fully learned my lesson. “Oh, my sissy, my little cunt, make me cum in your mouth, do me good, take all of me.”
Now, again, her ‘take all of me’ isn’t overbearing. Her member is much like mine, adequate to get the job done. Perfect from my perspective and necessary to keep my line in the sand of adultery uncrossed. Being easy to handle, and just the right size for my skill level, I probably gave her the best service of the lot. I am doing good enough for her that she needs to pull out before she climaxes. “Now it’s time for me to return the favor for you fucking me.” Of course, it was also her efforts in the earlier encounter that got that job done.
She heads around to my backside where again with the added height of the box she readies to enter me. She lubes my hole, fingers it a bit with two digits then reaches further under and coats my dick and balls. She aligns her ridged penis with my rectum and with one thrust enters up to her bush. She reaches back under with one hand and starts to fondle my balls and dick, which respond as you’d expect, while she begins short in and out thrusts with her dick. “Clench your butt, grip me,” she pleads. Not sure how well I am doing it, but I know I am trying my best to do what she asks. She knows how to fuck men, and she is showing me her skills. She has made me hard with her hand work. I feel my body trying to make a backward thrust to her to receive her dick. Now that I was hard, she abandons me and switches to her own arousal. It doesn’t matter, I remain hard. As a Dom she gets fifteen minutes and uses all of it. “Let me know when I have two minutes left.” Her sounds broadcast the enjoyment she is having. Now all her interests are selfish, she is not trying to sexually please me anymore, just herself.
“Two minutes.”
“OK, thanks.” And then she starts the movements, pace and thrust that will make her come. She tenses, squeals and collapses onto my back, I feel her breasts pressing against me, breathing heavily, still slightly heaving her hips side to side, forward and back. She backs out slowly, enjoying my hole trying to hold onto her.
I am sucking her clean when I hear, “Penalty! Getting and staying hard. Four swings on the exposed scrotum.” She withdraws from my mouth knowing what’s coming and not wanting to get bitten in the process. I am wickedly hit with four swings of the cat with its tails whipping around to sting my now softened shaft as well as my balls. “This is our game to enjoy, not yours, remember?” barks Master.
Right now, I am not remembering anything other than the burning anguish emulating from my genitals. I want to scream out “you prick,” but as I am still collating that thought I am diverted to a new pain as I get my fraternity hit, “Thank you, Ma'am,” and eleven follow up paddles. The combined pain is no worse than others I have experienced in my two servitude journeys. Actually, much less than some of the electroshock/horse riding and other pains I have endured.
(Round #9) This pain, however, is still throbbing as the seventh dick is pushed against my lips. The game has now gotten routine, and I do my duty, but it has been a long time for me to be abused. Not sure, but it must be a lot more than an hour. Maybe even two, or close to it. I am now daydreaming which gets me into trouble as I am startled back to reality by the dick being suddenly withdrawn and my face is slapped.
“Watch the teeth!” which is followed by Sir Michael saying, “Penalty, biting, five strikes,” I am whipped again with the cat, this time across my back for five repetitions, then, “OK stick it back into his mouth, I think he will behave now.”
Suffering, I put my best effort into my sucking, I want no more penalties. It just so happens that I got a little revenge on this one as the sub missed his ten-minute time limit by just seconds. He did cum in me, but it was deemed late by the timekeeper. So, I got to watch him take my twelve blows, plus I didn’t have to clean him.
(Round #10) I can believe there is more as I have lost count, I know I haven’t done Sir Michael, but there is another hard dick in my face and I know it’s not his, although it’s not a small one either. He grabs my hair and pulls up my head. “Open your mouth, Cunt.” I do and a metal gag is inserted in my mouth. It’s the Whitehead mouth gag used on me in the pool, I think. A new twist to what was becoming an old game. In comes the dick, it's long, not overly wide and now hard. He immediately starts pumping hard, pulling my head into him as he thrusts forward.
His first three or four strokes are ok, seems like he is just lubing up with my saliva, but by his fifth thrust he is in too deep for me, and I start to gag, which he then quickly thrusts just as deep two more times and then pulls my head tight to his body and holds me as I gag and start to retch. All the while he is chatting at me, “Suck me cunt, eat my dick, take it all, come on straight boy taste me, you know you love to eat cock.” This guy has been talkative all weekend, it’s part of his style of dominance.
He pulls out for just a few seconds while I am still hacking and gagging and bringing forward saliva, he blows back in pushing deep, finding my throat, causing the same gag reflex reactions as he thrust back and forth rapidly multiple times despite my resistance and then again pulling my head to his body forcing his rigid prick to stay lodged in my throat. “Take it cunt, take all of me, don’t fight me, breath through your nose cunt or you will suffocate bitch, you love this, don’t you, pussy do your job, make me cum.”
He is not only a physically aggressive Dom, but he’s also a verbally belligerent one, who likes to talk shit to his bottoms. And out he comes again. Fluids come with him, he wipes some from his dick and smears it across my face. Then it’s back in, this time just as deep and he plants it there and then with both hands on my head rapidly and forcibly pulls my head back and forth, maybe ten to fifteen times, so that those movements are what is fucking his dick instead of his thrusts.
“That’s a good boy. Yes, sissies like to suck dick. You’re going to love my cum. I am going to make you swallow it all. You’re a good cock sucker.” And he pulls out again. I am gagging, hacking, coughing, nearly heaving, and miserable, hating every minute of it. I’m about to call Yellow, maybe Red but can’t because he has reentered again and his depth does not allow me to breathe, let alone speak. This time I just held my breath and arched my neck back. This helps immensely.
“Yeah, that’s better lad, you’re learning, good job cunt, keep controlling it, see you can handle me.” He exits it again. I’m still choking and gagging, but the intensity of my throat spasms are less. Back in again, and I arch my neck, hold my breath, try to open my mouth even wider and say to myself just relax, relax, don’t think about the intrusion, ignore it. “Oh pussy, you are my fuck toy, lick me, make me harder, that a girl, good job, good job, I’m impressed, we may make a real cocksucker out of you yet.” When I take a gasp to get some air, he pulls out again then waits a few seconds and in he comes again, but this time he just glides in and out over my tongue. “You’ve had enough of the deep stuff, now Cunt use your tongue, lick my slit, show me that you love dick, slide it up and down my shaft, that’s it, good cunt.” I did make an honest attempt to use my tongue, and it aids in me calming down the remaining spasms of my throat.
He pulls out of my mouth and moves around to my back. “Got to try out this hole that everyone has been raving about.” I’m thrilled he’s back there, at least he is out of my throat. He adds some lube to my entry and then plows in with one long thrust. Maybe as one of my first or second assaulters this would have been bad, but now I am widely stretched and filled with cum lube, so his abrupt entry is no issue. I just hang down my head and let the neck restraints hold me. More saliva dribbles down my chin. He is a well-seasoned top; he knows how to fuck in a way that pleases both himself and his bottom. The chatter continues, “Oh wow, this is great. Yeah pussy, take all of me. I’m going to plow you good; you love this, you know you want me, you deserve this, you’re a dick slut, you want my cum, you want it bad, don’t you.” Occasionally, he pulls out far enough to smack one of my sore cheeks with his hand, He is a full-service Top. He is a good judge of his time and uses it all before letting his load join the others before him in my tired rectum. “At a girl, you take my cum, you take it all, oh I know you love that I gave you my semen, you hold it, don’t you lose a drop.” I feel him slide out after staying in me for a minute or two, making sure all his load was left behind. Then it was back to my force open mouth to clean his very cum slimed penis. The cum taste is starting to get funky and foamy, as the accumulation is churned each time by a thrusting dick. I get it done.
I anticipated a wicked hard smack from the fraternity paddle, but when it landed it was mild, the lightest of the morning. “Thank you, Master?” And as the other hits are delivered, he comes up to my head and whispers softly in my ear, “You know, you are one hell of a sub, I have been so impressed by how you handled this weekend. I have had my share of submissives and none of them have been able to handle the kind of use we have put you through without falling apart. It is my hope that we were able to give you what you wanted, what you came for, what you needed. And thanks for letting us use you to play and fulfill our fantasies, like doing bound straight men which is one of my turn-ons. I know you don’t enjoy sex with men, but you didn’t let it show.” And he gives my neck a squeeze and pats my shoulder, then walks away. Wow, he ended without any smack talk, his final words making him someone who abused me that I will remember for a long time in a positive way.
(Round #11) Next up was Master, who before entering my mouth, removes the dental gag. He has done me enough this weekend that I can recognize his cock. I am riding a minor high due to the praise I just got, so I use my new burst of steam to do my best at sucking the guy that made my weekend happen. I know I’m doing well as he gets rock hard and moans as he moves slowly and deliberately in and out of my lips that embrace his shaft while my tongue dances around his head. Later I had to justify to myself this willing service. While I was bound to the bench, I was not being threatened with punishment if I didn’t perform up to expectations. Why was I willing to suck a cock with passion that doesn’t sexually excite me? It was simply gratitude emerging from my mental exhaustion and my slipping into and accepting servitude obedience.
“Excellent, superb, but that’s enough, my cum is going in your butt, I’ve already let you swallow me earlier,” he says as he pulls free of my mouth. “No need to re-lube you, the cum dripping out of your hole is the best lube on the market.” He enters me easily, as I am both stretched and slick. He goes to work and is seemingly enjoying himself, when he stops, withdraws, and then re-enters with his fingers. I’m plenty stretched so I don’t understand. Then he starts messaging my insides with two of his fingers. He’s looking for, finds, and works on exciting my prostate. Sir Michael had done this to me in San Diego, and it did get me hard.
Master is doing the same. He takes his other hand and lightly works my sack and shaft. With the double sensations combined with my meds, I get hard quickly. He spends three or four minutes of his valuable fifteen minutes of game time on me. He then stops, I think he strokes himself a bit to get re-hard and enters me again. “As the Ref, I’m going to allow your erection. Now, I was good to you, I want you to be good to me. First, I want you to concentrate on relaxing, controlling your breathing. I then want you to tense up your sphincter muscle, then relax, tense it up again and then relax. Ok, now I want you to try and bear down with your pelvis when your sphincter is relaxed. I know this sounds complicated, but a sub needs to learn how to be a good bottom for his master. This squeeze-and-release will be good for both of us, so let’s try this, bear down, try to find those muscles, relax that butthole, then tense it. I want to feel your pulses as I fuck you. One more thing, as I thrust in, I want you to push back at me with your butt hole.” I’m not sure I really know how to make my bottom muscles do all those things, but I try.
“That’s it, you’re doing good, concentrate, it will start to feel good to you. I can feel you clenching my cock. Yeah, keep switching the actions, oh yeah, you’re doing it, you are a good little cunt, Sir Michael is lucky to have you.” I did my best. I’m sure in the end, most of the work that got him to shoot his load was his actions, but I added what I could. I was surprised that this late in the weekend, these guys, especially Master, were still looking to teach me how to be a good submissive. He didn’t forget to clean up, as he promised my mouth was his choice. As I was doing my duty, he told me it was nice having his dick up such a tight hole. It struck me funny as I couldn’t believe that after all the plastic and real cocks that have been up there this weekend that it could be still described as tight. My butt cheeks, already cherry red, then took its twelve whacks.
(Round #12) I know this cock too. It is Sir Michael. He will round out the even dozen. My mouth is filled. I wish I could do better with him, but orally he still remains too much for me, although I want to do the best for him. He can tell I am trying take as much of him as I possibly can, but that I am struggling, so he goes slow, pushing in first just his bulging head, then maybe inch of his shaft, then a tad more, and a little bit more and he instructs me, “Lick under my head, lick it good, make my slit tingle, you can do it, use your lips on the shaft, tilt your head so I can give you more, I’m sure your forced bondage fantasies have been based on sucking this dick since college so live the dream.” He is being careful to avoid gagging me, slowly sliding ever so slightly backward and forward. He is hard so his size has maximized, making this tougher. Sir doesn’t stay overly long in my mouth, which surprises me because by the game rules he could have stayed as long as he wanted. He would make up for it in my other end.
Taking him proved what Master had just said, that I was still a tight one. He hurts going in, but then he is super hard, which means he is at his maximum girth and length; it’s a real turn on for him to fuck his straight best friend even if he must tie me down to do it. He didn’t add any lube as I was supposedly filled with cum. I can feel the friction, my hole trying its best to accommodate him. At least he’s not trying to drive to the hilt on his first thrusts. It takes about four or five pushes till he picks up enough natural lube so that my I butt can give in to the assault. He gets his rhythm going. I try to push back and do what I can to relax. My tight grip on his cock is keeping him nice and hard. I can tell by his grunts this is a treat, fucking his friend, if I could see his face, I’m sure it’s all smiles. Me, not so much, my face shows a grimace. There is still discomfort.
I diverted my concentration from the ache by trying to do the things Master had just tried to teach me. Tough to tell how much they increased Sir’s enjoyment cause my tightness is making his day by itself. He pounds away for a long time, changing his speed of thrusts occasionally, but in and out strokes are consistently deep. He does stop once, with his dick deep within me to take a drink of water. I think to myself, yes, I may be a friend, but at the moment I am just a hole to plow, nothing more, as it should be, needs to be.
He gets back to fucking me in earnest and after what feels like an eternity, probably a total of a good twenty minutes he says to Master, “Think it’s time to add mine?”
“Sure, I’m positive nothing would make this Bitch happier than to take your load.”
And with about another twenty hard, deliberate thrusts, he tenses up, makes a loud sigh, and I am treated to his gift. Winded he says, “Why didn’t you have me tie you up and do you in college? We’ve lost so much time.” He stays still a while with my butt still holding a tight grip on him and then starts thrusting again. It is only for a minute or two. “I want to make sure I have a good coating.” He pulls out and comes to the front. “Open, my cunt, stick out your tongue, give this beauty a bath.”
He has me lick up and down his cum coated shaft, helping to rotate it with his hand. He then sticks it into my mouth and says, “Make me hard, I think I want to do you again.” Even with his dick flaccid, it still is more than I can effectively handle. I do take as much as I can, which is probably a personal best. I try both some tongue and lip service for a few minutes, finding that he is still well coated with the cum of many, which I distastefully work to clean off. Apparently satisfied, he pulls out and says, “He’s getting better at this, but I think he is done. No sense in trying to poke him again.” I get my final twelve butt warming smacks and the game concludes. The home team won.
Chapter 22: Topside of a Rimming
{Sunday 10:00 am - 11:00 am}
A butt plug is pushed into my sore and worn hole. “This will keep you from dribbling over the floors.” I am then unstrapped, which provides much relief to my aching neck, arms and legs. I was told to get down and I practically fell off the bench and needed momentary help to stand. My arms are placed behind me with the obligatory handcuffs put on my wrists. “Follow me,” Master orders, and we start walking to the other side of the room. It is quite the feeling, being unable to walk straight after being pounded again and again by twelve dicks. Your gait is off as you awkwardly limp more to one side. I need to stretch my hand back and down to the butt plug to hold it in as it feels like it will slip out as I walk. I have been well stretched.
It ends up being just a short walk to the wood play area where a Dom is finishing up securing his sub to the floor with the set of pipe, connector and mount restraints. He lays face up on a rubber mat with his arms held down close to his sides, his upper legs and ankles secured too. Another set of pipes, connectors and mounts crosses and holds him just below his chest. A more elaborate array of pipes and connectors holds down his neck and head. He is blindfolded. I see a rimming chair close by. Not putting two and two together, my first thought is the chair will be set over me. Man, they can’t want me to rim them now, I got nothing left; but it’s not that.
“One of our sub’s kinks is giving all kinds of rim jobs. It’s his thing. His favorite is sucking cum out of an asshole, we call it felching. You are filled with twelve full loads, less of course of whatever amount you licked off the soiled cocks. I’m sure he would love to clean you out. I am not looking for your consent; I’m just clarifying your next adventure. By the way, your Master has been looking forward to this all day. The chair is set over this poor sub’s face and adjusted down to its lowest setting.
Master unlocks my hands, reaches under my legs and pulls out the plug. “Clench your hole tight, don’t let anything drip out till I say so, and open your mouth.” As I clench my butt, he sticks the cum covered plug into my mouth and tells me to “Close your mouth, don’t dare drop that plug.” He then sits me down on the chair. I feel my cheeks press lightly against the waiting face below me. I quiver as it is a creepy feeling, but I keep clenched. My forearms are secured to the arms of the chair as my feet are held to the front legs in the same manner. He then tells me to open my mouth again, as he takes hold of the plug and tells me to lick it dry. I will have nightmares for years to come. It tastes gross. I can tell it has more than twelve loads of cum and lube on it. He then rubs it over my lips and across my cheeks to remove any remaining residue I might have missed.
My Bitch collar is removed and the hood I brought is put over my head and tightly laced up and with its collar buckled firmly around my neck. The blindfold is snapped on, followed by the gag being inserted in my mouth and snapped to the hood. It’s pumped up and with numerous squeezes of bulb, filling and straining to stretch out my checks being held by the confines of the tight face fitted hood. With no other place to expand, that forces the dick head shape gag to extend deep in my mouth almost to my gag reflex. By far the fullest it has ever been pumped up. My mouth is completely full, and my tongue pressed down and unmovable.
I next feel someone spreading my butt cheeks wide, I think to better expose my hole and crack to the abused below me. I then hear Master say, “You may begin rimming, and Bitch, you can unclench” and I feel a wet tongue make a long slow lick up my crack and across my hole. It causes another shiver. He is using his tongue like a paint brush with his strokes soft and flat. He makes many passes often starting at my perineum and ending as far up to the top of my butt that his restraints and tongue length allows. He teases my hole with licks and little darting with the tip of his tongue. At times he pauses and starts a suction action which is kind of titillating. These actions cause a cycling of opposing effects of tensing up and relaxing. That, combined with natural gravity is causing a bit of the large volume of cum I have within me to start weeping out.
He doesn’t do anything fancy like spelling the alphabet or going high speed like a washing machine, just gentle and methodical work. He just makes long strokes, then switches to making circles, moving them farther apart and then closer together. Sometimes doing figure-eights, crossing over my anus, rivalling the effects of my favorite vibrator programs. He does throw in kisses occasionally, part of his sucking. My sore and broken butt is starting to feel good for the first time in days. He doesn’t bite or nibble which I am grateful for as the edges of my ass lips are raw and tender. There is a ton of nerve ending around and in the hole, and all of them are happy with the attention. He continues to tease the rim. I can feel drips of goo release sporadically which seems to excite my new friend, repulses me. I can feel him cup his tongue when the junk drizzles out and he captures it. You can also feel the follow up sensation of his swallowing.
Mentally as it happens, I feel shame. I hope I am still clean, but I am somewhat doubtful based on what I tasted when I licked the plug. I sense no other people near me after a while, so I guess I’m being left again to sit and ponder all of this while still participating in at the same time of what could be summed up as the most sexually bizarre, confusing, deviant, painful, and mind blowing few hours of my life. I spent a long time being rimmed, I think I dozed off when I was startled by someone releasing the gag in my mouth, followed by the blindfold and hood. Others are releasing my arms and legs. I am stood up and my hands again locked with handcuffs behind me. I still feel sloshy and wet inside. I certainly have not been emptied by the rimming, but his stimulation has tightened my hole, and I don’t feel like I’m dripping as I stand.
Chapter 23: Final Lessons
{Sunday 11:00 am - 12:30 pm}
“Let us get you showered and ready to go home. I was taken to the wet room for one last time. My butt holds onto its unusual contents. The handcuffs were removed, and unexpectedly I am once again strung up, spread-eagle, to the chains by the wash shower. I thought, wrongfully, that we were done with the bondage part of the weekend, we obviously were not. I am sprayed down, scrubbed, hair washed and re-rinsed. I am somewhat glad as I wouldn’t want to have flown coast to coast after this morning’s events without a shower. Surprisingly, I was not washed internally. After my rinsing my attendant left, but not for long this time.
“I was just reverifying how I am to provide you with your final pain/pleasure memory of your stay with us.” Not fully understanding exactly what this last activity entails; I was touched that he was to deliver my weekend’s final experience in servitude. It seemed only fair, as despite being the co-play party host and co-owner of this magnificent paradise home of subservient suffering, as Master’s submissive he had the disgusting task of taking care of my bodily functions and cleansing all weekend. And having that misthought, with me fully exposed and vulnerable via my chained upright spread eagle restrained bondage, he begins to expertly and painfully whip me with a long-stranded leather flogger.
First with down strokes on my shoulders, then across my back with lateral ones, moving back to down strokes on my butt, then criss-crossing ones on both my hindlegs. Next is my chest, concentrating on my previously abused nipples, traveling down to my belly and then finally to my privates with strong, methodical, repetitious upward strokes. A very effective and skilled delivery from someone supposedly a submissive. After the first round he starts another. These attacks were made even more agonizing due to my still shower wet dripping body. I twist and try to arch away, shift my body any way I can but to no avail.
He turns on the overhead shower for a quick rewetting and then back to whipping. The water does its job of making the flogging more torturous. The vicious blows come despite my efforts to avoid them by violently pulling against the chains which will not yield. I wither in pain and moan in agony. I had already mentally exited the play, I thought we were done, I had showered, but here I am still chained and tortured. I am so confused; my mind again is not functioning. I am surprised how long this has gone on, he’s already enroute to my privates of his fourth rotation when he offers some guidance that he surely could have shared earlier, “I will continue until I hear you cry RED. You must be the one to decide when to end your servitude reality and return to the world of fantasy.”
And the intensity picks up on the attack on my privates. I try to absorb the hits, but it doesn’t take much longer, merely seconds, for my legs to give way and collapse causing me to hang from my wrists. Dangling limp and in agony I beg for the merciful ending of my weekend servitude with the plea of “RED, RED, yes end it, I beg you RED!”
His hard under swing already in motion lands a final blow to my balls, but no more would be coming. My arms and feet are immediately released, and I am helped to the floor where I am held tightly, cuddled, and stroked tenderly with compassion and understanding. “You did magnificent this weekend. We are all so proud of you. You kept in your role, never complained, or resisted. You tested your limits and then some. When I was hung on the gallows, I didn’t handle it nearly as well as you did. I think you really experienced true BDSM servitude and got to live your fantasies as we understood them. As a submissive, I understand first-hand what a trial it is to adopt this life, but I love living it each weekend with my loving master. You are just starting your journey and having great limitations at home will be frustrating for you. You can call me or Master anytime you want to talk about the life. I am so glad you came and let us share this with you. And thank you for sexually making yourself available to pleasure us. I know you found most of the things we did sexually to you repulsive and the discipline harsh, but you know in your heart and mind it is what you desired at the same time. I can’t wait to read your next journal describing your perspective on the activities of the last few days. You are welcome back anytime. All of us look forward to it.” And I’m given a final long hug and handshake.
As I am allowed to sit there on the floor to recover, I am toweled dry. Then told, when I am ready, to go brush my teeth and gargle, so I won’t travel home with a cum taste in my mouth and smell on my breath. He says with a smile, “It lingers, otherwise.” As I do that, the first time in three days unrestrained in any way, while he gathers my clothes and brings them to me. As I dress, he hands me a thin woman’s sanitary napkin. “Put this in your shorts. Master did not want me to douche your butt after our game because he thought while you were formulating your final thoughts on the events here on the flight home, you knowing that there was cum of twelve men still in you might help crystallize in your mind what once was your fantasy servitude has become very real. And I assure you, even though you were expertly rimmed by one of the best, much of the cum is still in you. Some will surely weep out as you travel. The pad will protect your garments, so you won’t have questions to answer when you get home. Try your best to not pass gas, it will likely prove messy.”
“Sir Michael has packed your travel bag. Your toys have been cleaned and discreetly packed in your bag. He has your computer too. I suggest when you are waiting for your plane you catch up with your journal with today’s entries while they are still fresh in your mind as many additional things have happened since you wrote in it this morning. There is ample time for you to stop for lunch. I know you are hungry as you had minimal food all weekend. I suggest you don’t overdo it with your first meal, like eating fast food such as burgers and fries. They will play havoc with your colon after the altered menu and the flushing regiment you had. Your normal discharges will return in two or three days. Yeah, I know this is new to you, but you will be fine. It is just considered normal for our crowd.”
“All of our other guests are out on the pool deck. They said their goodbyes to you on the bench as it should be with a submissive belonging to someone else. I am now going to take you to my partner and Sir Michael. They will meet us at the dungeon door where I will leave you with them and I will go join my guests at the pool. There are different ways to interpret your Contract. The Red you call here could be considered the end of your servitude and that’s OK. But I think it would be a courtesy to both of them if you left the dungeon still bound and with your collar on till you leave our home, which is also contractually fine.”
I answer immediately despite still in a recovering stinging-pain state, “Of course, that is fine with me.” And in my best subservient tone I say, “May I honor you by having you place my collar around my neck and secure me as you see fit one more time.” The collar is put on and simple handcuffs locking my hands behind me. I take one last wide look at my three-day home of torment and ecstasy, and I am escorted out of the dungeon.
I am handed off at the door as planned and the two Masters and I head back to the office where we first talked.
“Sit down. I want you to know it was a pleasure to serve as your surrogate dominant for the weekend. You should be proud of how you handled all that you endured without complaint or resistance. And while we all know you had signed away your body for us to sexually use for our pleasure and had no choice or control in the play, you were a quick learner and trooper throughout, a lot of fun to abuse too. Now, like you, I still have a desire for confidentiality. You don’t know who any of us are or where we live or about our personal lives other than how we like to play on weekends. However, I did share that my partner is an attorney. And now I am going to share a similar detail about me, I am a practicing medical doctor. You don’t need any more specifics.
“I tell you that for two reasons. First, I want to assure you that it is my belief you are safe from disease from any of my guests. I have known all of them for at least ten years, some much longer. We all limit who we play with to a select group which includes two more couples who were not able to attend. I don’t think you could handle any more than were here anyway. The very few that are HIV positive have been zero-detectable for years and I see their testing results quarterly. We are all tested that often, as my mate has strict rules.
“Second, even with the best health records and strong trust between us, precaution is never a bad thing, especially considering how many different fluids we deposited in your body. I would be a bad practitioner if I sent you home to a wife with the potential of an infection, regardless of how low we believe the risk to be, so I am offering you two medications. One is doxyPEP which is doxycycline. It is a post-exposure one dose pill that will prevent common STD infections from establishing themselves. The other is HIV PEP, a post-exposure prophylaxis, which functions as a morning after type pill for the prevention of HIV if you were exposed. Unfortunately, this one requires you to take a pill every day for 28 days. I have them both here for you along with brochures on them. It is totally up to you if you want to take them, but it is my recommendation to do so just to be ultra safe. It is important to start them within 72 hours of exposure. You are already dancing on that timeline since you’ve been here for the weekend. You might also get tested in about a month just to ease your mind if you are worried.”
“Wow, excellent, thank you. I think that’s fantastic. In fact, it will help alleviate my biggest and only remaining concern about the weekend. If you have some water, I’d like to take them both right now.” And I do. For the record, I took the remaining 27 pills of the HIV PEP as directed over the next month.
“We need to head out, so we are not rushed. Your bag is in the car,” indicates Sir Michael. I start to say, “I want to thank you…” and I am cut off. “Your Dominant has already thanked me, many times over, both verbally and physically. It is my belief that it is inappropriate for a Dom’s submissive to thank another Dom for something set up between the two of them. Make sure you do thank your master, however.” He then gives me a wink and says again “As I said you were an excellent submissive and great fun to use. Doing a Straight against his will is a real turn-on. Please come back and play with us again. I mean that.” We got up, my hands still cuffed, and we headed out to the car. There our Host unlocks my wrists, gathers his cuffs, pats me on the back and we get in the car. Michael handed me the blindfold that I wore on the way in, and I put it on and took off the collar as we drove away.
Epilog
As the weekend progressed my lack of sound rest and physical abuse wore me down more mentally than physically. This became obvious to me upon reading my journal entries for rewriting them into this story style. My facts and comments for the last night and morning of play rambled on and are confusing with details missing unlike my beginning entries. Alas, two things saved me so that my reporting in this article is accurate and truthful. Sir Michael forwarded to me, as he had done after the San Diego ordeal, a copy of their detailed plan and itinerary for the weekend, which helped a lot. It certainly improved my publicizing the chronological order and time of each event.
However, it was the camera recordings that were immensely beneficial. About three weeks after I got home, I received in the mail from Sir Michael a thumb-drive sent to him for me from Master. Written on the side was simply ‘Bitch Highlights.’ Turns out that Master had gone through the recordings of the weekend, isolated the ones that captured me. He edited out times when no special fun activities were happening, like gym time, breakfast, and similar boring events though these edits were minimal. There was no sound. I was often videoed from multiple cameras providing different views of my predicaments and use. They show up as split screen viewing. I also found out that there were outside cameras in the pool and patio areas. So other than some of my downtime, I have a recording of all that happened to me.
The recordings were not Hollywood cinematographer quality by any means, just surveillance footage from wall and pole mounted cameras, but they did plainly show what I endured. Some shots are surprisingly clear, and you can visibly see much of my suffering and sexual use close up and personal. Both exhilarating and chilling for me to watch knowing it is me. While watching I relive it all. There are hours and hours of action. My hoods conceal my identity in many scenes, but certainly not all of them. If you know my naked body as my wife would, then I am easily recognizable. The drive is locked away in my personal records safe and has been relabeled. I hope the confidentiality promised is maintained as I know I do not have the only copy; my hosts have one that they control. I am so grateful for the gift as I can now accurately report the whole weekend where before I had some unclarity. More importantly, it perfectly serves two other purposes; one, I can watch it anytime I need a bondage fantasy fix and, two, it is undeniable confirmation to me that this was all real. I know it was an effort by Master to put it all together and as I said, I am so thankful.
The original plan called for just three couples in addition to the hosts and the possible mistress to come for the weekend. More than enough participants for their diabolical intentions and typically the number of people that gathered for any other party. When Master first floated the idea to the group of friends, he got an overwhelming positive response and it became awkward as a host to not let all who wanted to come from joining, so their ten intended cocks grew to twelve. It could have been even more overwhelming; I understand there are two more twosomes in the ‘club’. They both had other commitments and could not attend, thank goodness.
When unpacking my suitcase I found a fraternity paddle. It had no writing on it, but I knew where it had been used. I believe it was sent with me as a symbol that I was now an accepted associate member in their fraternity. The noose was discreetly wrapped up with it.
It did take about two to three days for my bowels to return to normal. My hole was sore for about the same amount of time, and my crack where it rested on the rail was tender too. I had to use some Desitin diaper rash cream on my anus for a few days which helped the burning and healing. It had been both thoroughly stretched and rubbed raw. My urethra was a bit raw too and it burned for a day when I pied. I’m not sure how they pulled it off, but my skin did not show any vivid marks of my whippings, i.e., no black and blue. They had not broken or torn my skin. If you look hard there was some evidence of striping and my privates and thighs bore marks from my final torture, but I kept my shirt on and didn’t parade around naked at home and in two, maybe three days, they were gone.
Cum did drip from me during the flight and ride home, the pad doing its job. The rest came out with my stool during my next two movements. The cum of twelve men, some from men younger and more virile than me, is a lot. I feel both remorse and elation that it was put there, it took more time than a plane ride home to put it all in perspective.
Sir Michael reports that he had a great time, and while he always kept tabs on what was being done to me, he did get to top each of the four visiting and the host submissives at the request of each of the masters. He boasted that he topped two out of four of the masters too, along with multiple times with the Host. ‘Big dick, big demand’ at these parties he told me. He was sucked by most of them too including the Mistress. I’m pleased for him. Sir said he held his cum though for just me and the two Hosts. I suppose I should be honored by that sacrifice.
He indicated that one of his favorite times was watching me and my body language as the two guys caressed and then made love to me on the bed. He said it was obvious that having men be affectionate was distressing for me but was pleased that I let them proceed. It was intended to be mental torture, and they proved successful. The original plan was for only the first guy, a submissive, to caress and fondle me with affection, but when Master and Sir Michael watched my reactions, they wanted the scene to end in me being lovingly fucked. The submissive was not one who enjoys being the top, so his master joined in and then finished it so Master and Michael would get their kicks. I would get something to remember. The flashbacks of this particular scene have come to mind at some unusual times since the weekend. I’m glad I was bound, it helps.
Sir Michael wants me to make clear that he has no interest in necrophilia, in fact the mere thought of it repulses him. His claim of it being his fantasy was said to me on the gallows as part of a prewritten script. The same basic lines had been used before at previous initiations. Almost all of what was said to me was made up, only said to scare my weakened mind into believing that I was really going to be hung. Mike did say of the whole story, the only part he liked was what he had personally authored, that his cum would be in my ashes, which he thought was extremely funny. He was almost afraid to add it as he thought I would then see through it all as fabricated. Truth is, it was what convinced me that it was real. There was one bit of truth in all of it, one of the people not at the party who is part of their playgroup is a coroner, i.e., a medical examiner, specifically an MD pathologist. He doesn’t write fabricated bogus death certificates.
As the contract required, I was never caned. I did see two of the submissives receive strikes from a Rattan cane on their hindquarters, with serious bruises and welts laid down. I watched one having to hold the cane in his hands with his arm stretched out in front of him, waiting for what must have been fifteen minutes until the inevitable whipping came, playing with his mind. You can tell these physical assaults are intensely painful, with marks that will remain as reminders for days, maybe a week or more. These guys are seriously into their BDSM play.
I was discreetly tested; I am free of disease or STDs.
I have been told the host submissive finds it distasteful to provide cleansing of other sub’s internal plumbing. It was an act of servitude loyalty to his master who asked/demanded him to do it as a needed part of the party play. He was good at it; he has been required to do it to others before, so he is well practiced. I remained clean for almost the entirety of the event play. With the frequency and the different ways I was used, that was important to me on many levels to remain clean. Nonetheless, having it done to you is degrading and humiliating and probably my least favorite activity of the weekend.
I had experienced the use of a rubber water wand in San Diego for cleansing, although I was managing it myself. I also had a speculum in me during other play. New to me was the flexible vibrator and suction. Turns out the suction aspirator was a portable suction machine that ambulance crews and hospitals use to extract out body fluids, most typically in obstructed airways. It worked really well at getting the last bit of gray water out of me. It felt like the dentist suction when having your teeth cleaned. Master being an MD helps in obtaining some of these interesting devices that were used. I came to learn that the vibrator helps gravity move the water down from one’s deep recesses. Apparently, this is a well practiced trick in the gay community in prepping for fun. As the weekend went on my cleanings became less intense, such as in the number of times I was irrigated per cycle, as my reduced food intake minimized my waste production.
My pillory punishment by the young master supposably because his sub was eyeing me was contrived. This staged scenario, proposed actors and punishment was outlined ahead of time in Master’s and Sir Michael’s detailed plan for the weekend. On the other hand, the deep penetration by the inflatable dildo while I was bound to the bench was not. As reported, it was a recently purchased toy that the owner had brought along, and while he was there, decided it would be fun to test it out on me before using it on his own sub.
While food intake was minimal, I was regularly hydrated with water. That, in addition to my large, forced pee consumption, made me need to go frequently as time went on; and therefore, I learned to overcome my shyness of peeing into the held urinal while bound.
In retrospection, there was nothing that was done to me that I overly regret or wished had not happened. Some things as they were occurring, I loathed or were excruciatingly painful, and thus were well beyond what my original fantasies craved, but after they had concluded I came to terms with them and was glad or at least ok I had experienced them. All were within the limits of the contract although some interpretations were not as I might have originally understood or considered. I had favorite activities, but if I confess them, I may be denied them if I get to come back, so I’ll keep them to myself. Some on that list might surprise you. The struggle between pain and pleasure of both physical and mental cruelty are interesting bedfellows that can provide sexual arousal in a twisted way. I think all of us are twisted in our own ways.
I am still coming to terms with my interactions with the Mistress. I guess I do have some remorse about that. It helps that I feel I was justly given a proper and harsh punishment for my arousal and pleasure from her playing with me.
Will I return to this dungeon for more play? Too soon to tell, I need some more time to let my inner self completely settle. I am thrilled I went to Las Vegas; physical strain and pain passes quickly, and it has; it is the psychological and emotional that takes time to resolve, and as I just said I’m traveling that road now. I think I am close to coming to terms with all my thoughts, though some still wake me at night. I can say my outer persona has not changed; it is fully intact, but it is also rested, calmed, exactly what I was striving to achieve. At work I am still a strong, confident, successful leader and businessman, and at home a loving and devoted husband and father. Try not to pass judgement too harshly, I’m sure some won’t agree with some of that statement. I like who I am when I am in my normal self, and I like who I am when I am taking on a short-term submissive identity. They are polar opposites for me and that is what makes both lives satisfying and desired. My submissive life has given me the respite I yearn for from my busy, intense primary life.
I am not gay, turning gay, or even bi, although to some it might seem that way. As I have stated again and again, only women excite me sexually, men do not, but I do, as said, still get sexually aroused by being bound and then being forced to service or be used by men. The adventures I had in Vegas and San Diego filled that need and I hope I’ll get to have the experience again, I think. Obviously, more exciting to me would be to have sexual encounters with women while they are in bondage, or vice versa, but I will only do such activities with my wife, and she gets no excitement from such play, so that is not to be, c'est la vie. I cannot give better reasons for my feelings or choices; they have always been within me. It is who I am.
Final comment – It was Sir Michael’s wish and command that I memorialize this weekend in writing and then share it with others. His hope is that those reading my journal are entertained, pleasured, maybe even aroused by the bondage and abuse I suffered at the hands of my hosts and their friends and as such will act as an augmentation of my time in Vegas, prolonging my servitude to him. He likes to share his good fortunes. He enjoyed sharing me with them and now with you. Sorry, no, I can’t share the videos, anonymity is paramount for my hosts, their guests and me for obvious reasons.
Respectfully submitted,
Bitch Bobbie