On Display to Thousands

Prologue

If your BDSM reading preference is getting right to the action, followed by more action and nothing but action, you might want to skip this writing. I offer that suggestion as this is a true story of CNC play that details what happened to me over a long three days, so there are lots of facts, backstory, physical descriptions and personal thoughts that go along with the strict bondage and sexual abuse I received, i.e. to some it is a long read. Still, I’m told many BDSM enthusiasts find it intriguing as well as stimulating to read a real story over a fictional one. That said, I think you’ll find this one has more than enough action during its course. Some parts may even be hard to believe, but it all happened.

Personally, I’d rather no one read this as it is humiliating to share what they did to me and how I was forced to service other men. It is written and posted simply because one of the provisions of my servitude contract is that I must keep a journal capturing written descriptions and my reactions to what occurred. I then am required to transcribe the diary into a story form, aided by additional notes and recordings of the events provided to me, and submit the finished work to on-line BDSM publications. My compulsory admission to the public about these activities amuses my masters, shames and mortifies me, which I believe is their intent and the root of their pleasure.

As background, a couple of months ago, late August 2025 to be more precise, my best friend Mike called to share some titillating news. Our mutual ‘friend’ in Vegas had extended an invitation to both of us to attend a special party in San Francisco the weekend of September 27-28. Now, if you have been following my other forced published journals, you know Mike as my master Sir Michael, and his Vegas friend as Dr. D, a well-practiced BDSM Dominant who has on occasion rented me from Sir Michael for his own deviant pleasures.

Both these guys are gay, and I am straight. Over the past two years periodically they have been putting me into bondage servitude for up to a week at a time and then along with their friends, sexually abusing me. All the activities are governed by the aforementioned servitude contract I have with Sir Michael. You can find the contract in my first journal ‘Eight Days in a Binding Contract,’ a disturbing and, to many, an arousing set of real BDSM events.

I know better than having a playdate with Dr. D without getting the particulars, but my yearning to satisfy my submissive needs sometimes clouds my better judgement. What I was told was this was an annual big party at a likeminded friend of Dr. D’s in San Francisco. Sir Michael indicated he also was an acquaintance and had attended this annual gala once before. He described it as incredible and right up my alley. So, I started to get excited, ignoring that this was an invitation to a stranger’s BDSM party and I would be cast in the role of a submissive wanting to be bound and abused.

Mike, working to increase my willingness to go, shared that the Host and his partner have a dungeon, just like Dr. D and mate have in their Las Vegas home. Mike doesn’t share how, but apparently this guy knows my ‘story,’ and he thought I would add a new twist to their weekend entertainment activities. I didn’t connect the dots or simply elected to ignore the fact that I had been the featured ‘entertainment’ at one of Dr. D’s play-parties and that proved to be quite a severe weekend. A red flag that I disregarded.

And so, despite potential tribulation, the trip was on. This document, like my previous journals, is written at the insistence of my Masters, and chronicles what occurred.

Chapter 1: Arrival and Ownership Transfer

I flew into San Francisco from Charlotte on Friday September 26 on a flight timed to match up with Sir Michael’s arrival from San Diego and Dr. D’s flight from Las Vegas. Dr. D had an entourage with him, his mate, and four other Doms (three stag and one with his partner). These guys are all members of the Common Bonds Social Club (a group noted in my past journals of which I hold an honorary associate membership).

I don’t know any of their actual names, by design, but each one of them had previous ‘unsolicited’ relations with me while I was bound and could not resist. They being here is an odd comfort, as I recognized I would be likely having a sexually abusive but relatively health safe weekend. As each member joined the group, heartfelt hugs were shared including their greetings to me. The upcoming play date and my role in it had apparently not yet started.

A party van had been arranged to take us all to our destination. This was certainly not the first visit to this home by the others; they knew how and liked to travel comfortably and some of the members had the means to make it happen. With the whole group finally assembled we were off.

San Francisco traffic being what it is, it took us at least forty minutes to reach our destination. The conversation was jovial and festive as we rode along. I could tell the crowd was excited about the coming weekend even though their conversations were yielding no hints of what was up and coming.

As we pull into the driveway, a rarity in this town, I am unexpectedly greeted by an exquisite and stately three-story Victorian home. It sits on a large corner lot and has the traditional turret tower, bay windows, and brightly painted gingerbread common to the Victorian style; beautiful. San Francisco’s real estate values are known to be some of the highest in the nation. This home must be big bucks, three to four million easy. Funny, this is now the second BDSM gay couple’s home I’ve visited and interesting, they both turn out to be very successful in their private lives if housing is an indicator.

Our host and his partner welcome this merry crowd at the front door and invite us in. The home is as stunning and lavishly decorated as the outside would suggest. Our group is the only one here at the moment as the party doesn’t actually begin till tomorrow. We will be staying till Monday as houseguests. I’m told most other partiers will be generally local and will not necessarily stay overnight. But I’m also informed not to worry, as there will be ample time to get to ‘know’ each of the locals. Sorry, I can't help it, I am worried.

All these guys are long-term friends and are truly thrilled to see each other. Hugs and handshakes abound, friendly banter, teasing and humorous suggestive potential behavior is offered. And I stand there, waiting for an introduction. While I know all the people I just arrived with on an extremely personal level, the addition of the two hosts makes me feel awkward, standing there as the straight outsider that I am. That will change I’m sure, and I’ll pay for that acceptance.

Chapter 2: New Dungeon, New Dominant, New Regrets

“So, this is my boy for the weekend?” asks the host approaching me, giving me a good hard look. “He looks good and sturdy. He should serve us well.”

“Well, he’s yours as soon as I get my dollar for the lease,” replies Sir Michael jovially.

What the hell? I assumed that since I was here with Mike, he was going to be my master for the weekend. We never discussed it; that’s my mistake for making an assumption. He’s leasing me out to someone I do not know, a first. Not happy. Well, at least Sir Michael is here. He will still be my protector; he’s my best friend. I hope that’s how it will be.

It’s me now giving the host a hard look over. He doesn’t seem to be a bad guy. Then again, Dr. D looks like a gentle soul, but under ‘his’ rental ownership I suffered unbelievable trials. I realize that this was the game I signed up for, so I try not to panic and convince myself to just see how it goes. This could be fun, maybe.

This guy seems to be about the same age as me. Taller and very physically fit, more than just trim. I’m not one to judge another man’s looks, but he’s a handsome stud. If he was straight, he would be a looker to the ladies. I assume he’d be considered ‘hot’ to the gay guys. Of note, his head is clean shaven. His right bicep and upper arm showcase tattoos, nothing too garish. He’s dressed nicely in shorts, a colorful buttoned short sleeve shirt, and sandals on his feet.

His submissive mate tends to our bags and other stuff. He is more on the feminine side of the gay world. Also nicely dressed, somewhat quiet and reserved in his interactions as I would expect a subservient would be in a public setting. I guess they make a nice couple. My thoughts are to what his reaction is to his dominant mate renting a straight male as a party favor submissive for the weekend.

The dollar is ceremoniously transferred in front of me, and I am now the rental property of this anonymous and unfamiliar BDSM gay dominant to be used as he wishes within the limits and rules of my signed contract. And so, the weekend begins.

And it begins quite benignly. The group disperses to settle into their rooms and are told they should reassemble in the ‘grand room’ for a casual buffet dinner when they are done. My new master comes to me and instructs me to follow him. I do as I am told, toting my small carry-on suitcase behind. We headed into the kitchen. I’m told to fix a lite dinner plate from the buffet foods set out and to take it with me. I comply quickly, and I then follow my renter all the way up to the third floor.

As he opens the door at the top of the final stairs he announces, “This is my playroom. Maybe not as grand as the one your friend Dr. D has, but nonetheless, a torture chamber suitable enough to push you to your limits. I think your fantasies can be well played out here.” He adds, “Keeping to your contract's demand of anonymity, I will be known to you simply as Master D and that is how you shall address me.”

An immediate fear fills me. ‘Master D’, ‘Dr. D’, such similar names. Under the stress of bondage and abuse I worry I’ll mix up their titles, with severe punishment for their perceived slight, likely to be swift and painful.

He continues his instructions, “I’m going back to my friends to eat and socialize. In the meantime, you will be locked in here. I want you to eat. Then I want you to take a tour. Check out my assortment of bondage furniture and toys and ponder on how all of us will use them on you. I hope you will find it to be a place where your S&M dreams will again become real. I know all about your submissive sadomasochism fantasies. Your owner shared your diaries with me. And I know your buddy Dr. D very well. We’ve chatted a lot recently; it was his suggestion that brought you here.”

“During your tour you will find the bath and shower area I mentioned. You are to put your belongings and clothes you are wearing in the wardrobe. In it you’ll also find a bottle of Cialis pills; take two of them. Dr. D has put his OK on this. You have been prescribed to take them each day you are here. He tells me he also has some exit drugs for you on your last day. He has them. He says you are familiar with all of this”

“Then relieve yourself, shower and cleanse your butt, leaving my bath as sanitary as you found it. Everything you need to do this should be in the bath area. Sitting where your meds were, you’ll also find a simple leather snap-on ball stretcher. You are to put it on after you’re done with the shower. I want you to then go and select from the various whips and floggers hanging on the wall the one you want me to whip you with first. Sit it on the floor on the door side about two feet in front of the pillory.”

Additional instructions follow, “You are then to secure yourself naked to the pillory facing towards the main door. There on the floor are leather ankle cuffs attached to a spreader bar that you will lock on first. These will secure your legs wide enough to provide access to your butt and balls and allow me to reposition the neck & wrist crossbar up or down with you still locked in. After you are done with your feet, put your neck and wrists through the crossbar. It is held open by free-fall tabs. Simply put a little upward pressure with your neck and wrists and it will release and slide down, securely latching in place until I see fit to release you.”

His final comments as he readies to leave are: “It will be a while till I return but I expect you to get right to your assignments. I want you to spend plenty of time in the pillory before I return so your legs will begin to fatigue, and your mind will weaken from the stress of you pondering your coming physical, sexual and mental abuse. We are in for a fun weekend, well, maybe not you, but my friends and I are going to have a blast. Delivered just the way you fantasize, bound tight and unable to resist. There, that’s something to dwell on while you stand there in your self-imposed bondage. Oh, yeah, you are on camera, lots of them, all over, sound too. The boys and I’ll be watching, you’re safe, but call out if you get in trouble. Bye for now.”

Chapter 3: Tour, Prep and Self Bondage

This is a new Dom. I don’t know his tendencies or his severity yet. But I’m taking no chances as the fear of his potential punishment wrath makes me anxious. I do exactly as I’ve been told and I do it expeditiously.

First, the tour. I zero in on what Master D has already introduced, the pillory. It is a well-made and sturdy double pole fixture with the crossbar set in between the two uprights. This style pillory allows for free access for whipping and other abuses to both the front and back of the torso. The cross bar has been adjusted to be at standing height. The rack is open, waiting for its prey, me. The leather cuffs and spreader bar sit on the floor below it.

I moved on to survey the rest of the furniture. There is a St. Andrews Cross. This one is not as fancy as Dr. D’s, but it will still be effective. A black heavy-duty wood and faux leather pegging/spanking bench sits in the corner. It is of a somewhat different design from all three of Dr. D’s benches, but its use is still obvious and looks versatile. There are two dog cages, one large, one small. A block and tackle operated trapeze suspension bar hangs from the ceiling. Not far from the suspension setup is a leather sling hung with chains from a heavy black steel frame design specifically for that purpose.

One wall has a variety of setups. The first one that catches my attention is a wall mounted Sybian vibrator jutting out a little over four feet from the floor. Surrounding it are various wall mounted rings for securing arms and legs of the rider forced to straddle it. This is curious to me as this set up is most typically used to torture women. I have even witnessed a girl bound to one at Dr. D’s, driving her way past ecstasy to near insanity. The dungeon master must have a larger circle of BDSM friends then simply gay men. Either that, or my rectum may be riding it this weekend.

Another portion of the same wall (and the floor in front) is covered with nicely finished smooth plywood. It serves as the mounting base for a device bondage system that uses modular pipe & rail fittings. It is intriguing to me how many ways the system can be configured to tightly restrain someone in positions that make them completely vulnerable and accessible. I look forward to and fear being secured here.

On the floor not far from the Sybian and Modular mounts is a padded T-bar stand. It’s an effective device for bending someone over to peg or whip the butt.

The last pieces of furniture I recall were two beds. One was a high quality four poster dungeon bed with overhead frame and underneath cage. There were numerous attachment points and ample other methods of securing someone to the bed including a pillory like rack as the foot board face. The second bed was a vintage single camp style metal iron bed with an exposed metal spring mattress serving as its platform. To be put down and tied naked to this would surely be uncomfortable over time.

Hanging from one wall are all kinds of whips, crops, floggers, and paddles. There are also all sorts of leather straps, cuffs and even an assortment of hoods. Another wall features metal cuffs, irons, handcuffs, and chains. They all seem to be hung in a way to serve both as an intimidation display as well as being at the ready. If that is in fact his goal, he has succeeded as the abundance of mischievous toys has raised my apprehension level.

Making it worse, I peek into some wall cabinets. In one I find dildoes and plugs of every size and shape, many of which I could never accommodate, and I hope my abusers don’t try. Another cabinet houses electro-toys, lots and lots of electro-toys. A third stores metal fetish gear ranging from nipple clamps, penis clenchers, male chastity devices, and hanging weights to sounding rods and piercing needles. Again, more stuff than I wish to inventory or fathom. These rich gay guys seem to have unlimited budgets to satisfy their fetishes.

I realize I am spending too much time on the tour, so I stop and quickly go eat my meal. When we had stopped in the kitchen, I had simply grabbed a paper plate, picked a single mini-sub from a Jersey Mike’s ‘Subs by the Box’ party tray and added some chips and loose grapes to take with me. I had a bottle of water too. I was hungry, it was good. Master D had said a lite meal. I hope he didn’t consider what I took as being piggy. It was certainly more than I had been served on my previous bondage servitude trips out West.

Next up, my shower and cleansing. I step into the bathroom and see that it is of good size but not nearly as big as Dr. D’s ‘wet room’. Similar to his, all the walls and floor are tiled white, but its function is designed more like a traditional bathroom. It has a large walk-in shower, a set of double sinks, and a normal toilet. However, what is both odd and disturbing is that it also has two bowl style urinals mounted side by side on the far wall. Now I have seen urinals in gentlemen’s upscale home bathrooms before, but not two of them, so that is odd.

Moving the line from odd to fearsome is how the urinals are plumbed. The unit on the right looks normal. It has a common chrome flush valve mounted on top. Under the porcelain bowl is an exposed style soil discharge using a chrome pipe with traditional trap bend piped into the wall.

The left unit, on the other hand, has no flush valve. Instead, its top hole is filled with a chrome plug. Coming straight down from the bowl’s waste connection is a chrome pipe, about six inches long, that transitions to a similarly sized clear flexible hose. Affixed to the end of this plastic tube is what appears to be a mouthpiece comparable to a swimmer’s snorkel/athletic bite guard combination. A wide rubber strap incircles the mouthpiece in a way that if the strap is slipped over a person’s head it would pull the device tightly into the mouth like a gag and seal over their lips to prevent leaking.

I have no question as to what I have discovered.

Exploring further, directly below this pipe assembly I find fastened to the floor a two-piece door designed to allow each side to slide open. It is covering a hidden vault below the floor. There is a half-circle cut-away on each door, creating a round opening about the size of someone’s neck when closed together.

My curiosity gets the best of me. I open one of the doors. Below it is a shaft approximately 16 by 24 inches and maybe five feet deep. The chamber is perfectly sized to accommodate a standing person. It’s dark, but enough light shines down from the bathroom to show a side door that allows entry. I am uneasy about what may come; they have obviously built a functional human urinal. Dr. D is here and one of his biggest fetishes is submissive piss play. I am at risk and now very uneasy.

I try to not dwell on it as I have things to do. I undressed, stowed my clothes and belongings as previously directed and got on with the shower. On a bookshelf unit in the bathroom is an ample supply of fluffy folded towels, washcloths, soap, and other toiletries. Of special note, one of the shelves also held about a dozen ‘new in the box’ douche enema bulb kits with a small sign by them saying “For Our Guests. Please mark as yours.” A permanent marker sat nearby. Not sure what to label mine as I wasn’t given a name yet, I went with Dr. D’s favorite “Cunt”.

I took a shower and douched myself several times. I felt whistle-clean inside, which is to my benefit. I dried off placing my towel in the hamper labeled as such, making sure all was tidied up, and off I went to start my bondage servitude.

I have done a lot of self-bondage in my day, sometimes even providing my own self abuse through nipple clamps or electro stimulation. Even so, when locking yourself up as I have been told to do, not knowing what is coming, but dwelling on the worse, sure makes completing the task challenging. I pull down on my ball sack and snap on the leather strap. It’s a good inch and a quarter, maybe an inch and a half wide. My nuts are compressed as there is little bag left to contain them now that I am stretched tight by the constricting ban. Just as designed.

On go the ankle cuffs, with locks. I have no key. Up I stand, slipping into the rack, first with my neck, then my wrists, being ever so careful not to release it prematurely. I want to make sure my stance is comfortable as it can be before I am at the device’s mercy. The neck and wrist openings are nicely padded with leather. They are not large, they will be a firm, unyielding fit, by design I assume. I lift up against the upper rack and then back down. The board rides down with me. Click.

I’m locked in. The natural response is to push up. No movement. Pull back on my wrist then neck. Tightly secured. Wiggle my fingers, then wrists, rotate my neck. Not too tight. And so, I stand, bound by my own hand. Unable to release myself. No timer, no keys. At the mercy of others. Others who are not here; but watching.

A lot can go through one’s mind as they wait in an inescapable position. I spend plenty of this time fantasizing about what I would like done to me. Staring at the riding crop on the floor corrupts some of those more hopeful rambling thoughts, I’m sure he had me place it there for that exact mental tribulation. Then again, it really doesn’t matter what I’m dreaming; what happens to me while helplessly bound and exposed will be what satisfies the whims, pleasures and kinks of my vanquishers and not me, which is my base fantasy.

Not all the time is in fantasy dreaming. Some of the time affixed to the pillory allows me to simply enjoy and contemplate the complete helplessness of the situation I am in. Being placed in a submissive bound setting is what helps me disengage from my highly stressed work/life realm. Lastly, I spend time stuck here consciously trying to address the cramping and muscle fatigue that the pillory position can cause.

Time moves on slowly. I can only assume that Master D is being an excellent host as he stays with his downstairs guests for over two hours. I await my fate as he entertains.

Chapter 4: Meeting Master D, Up-close and Personal

I’m startled by the sudden opening of the door and rapid approach of Master D, as he loudly calls out his verbal welcome of “I’m back. Miss me?” What startles me most is his appearance. He is wearing heavy black mid-thigh high boots, a leather upper chest harness and nothing else. My eyes are drawn to his swaying member which is sizable even in its current flaccid condition. Not as big as Sir Michael, but still long and thick. Much bigger than me. I’ll be challenged when forced to suck it which I’m sure will occur sometime this weekend. I also confirm what I noticed when he was fully clothed. He is very fit, strong, and muscular without being overly muscular. A man’s man.

As he checks out my self-bondage he tells me, “Nicely done. You and that pillory are perfect together. FYI, while downstairs, your past Masters and I discussed what to call you this weekend. I understand you are ‘Bitch’ in the contract, but Dr. D says ‘Cunt’ is more fitting. I recall reading in your birthday journal that your wife called you ‘Toy’ but that’s not happening. We did give ‘Gay Play Toy’ a thought, but no. Oh, that thought reminds me, you will be expected to write and post this visit too, just like your other servitude time.”

“Since you like pussy and not cocks, I thought ‘Gay Cock Lover Boy’ would twist your nipple, but Dr. D poo-poo’d my choice saying it would be too long to say in the heat of the moment. Then thinking about our plans for Sunday, you being a straight sub bound and forced to show yourself off to the crowd, the term ‘Sissy’ came to mind. I knew that would piss you off too, since you are such an A-type dominant male in your regular world. So ‘Sissy’ it will be, seeing you have no vote in the matter,” he says cheerfully.

I see I guessed wrong on labeling the douche box. That’s not the only thing flooding my mind. What was that thing he said about Sunday? He walks away and then returns with a blindfold which he puts on me.

“I know you like playing in the dark,” he says.

The loss of sight distracts my last thoughts, as I concentrate on listening to try to determine what is next. It’s only a matter of seconds. Wack. My legs nearly buckle. It’s a hard solid upper swat of the riding crop to my balls. My balls that are tightly held in their sack due to the constricting ball stretcher strap. God, it stings. Then I’m hit again, same spot, just as hard. Three more stings come in. I am now hanging from my wrists and neck as my legs have given out beneath me.

“Good choice, a riding crop to the nut sack is always an excellent introduction to my whipping style. I like that you are wincing in pain, yet you did your best not to cry out. Let’s see if you can sustain that,” observes Master D.

I hear him walking away as an uncontrolled tear runs down my cheek. He returns quickly to attach a clothes pin to each nipple. Then he adds four more pins, one to each side of the ones pinching my nipples. It is subsequently back to the crop. He is assaulting the clothes pins trying to dislodge them with repeated swats. This is far from pain/pleasure. The contract supposedly says no to severe pain, but I think in his mind he is establishing limits and I haven’t called out a slowdown safe word.

I’m thinking about it, now close to uttering it, when his rapid and accurate swings dislodge both secondary pins on the left breast and one of them on the right. Maybe this will end soon and I hold off. I’m trying to mentally fight back the pain. I don’t like the ‘Sissy’ term I’ve been labeled with, finding its meaning different than maybe intended, so I want to tough this out. I’m not a wuss, not a sissy.

It takes probably ten more swats till the other pins are knocked off. The right nipple proved the worst as one hit caused it to hang and swing from the nipple tip before a second blow ripped it the rest of the way off. That final nipple clothespin removal was far more painful than all the other hits of the crop.

“Good boy! That’s the way to suck it up. Now, let’s warm up your buns. I recall you love to be paddled,” he remarks.

Love is a strong word. I may prefer it over other whippings, but it still hurts when delivered. And he does deliver. I’m glad he’s not into making me count each hit out loud, but to myself I count. Ten wicket swats to the left cheek, all in a row. Then a matching ten to the right. I won’t be sitting anytime soon.

“OK, as a final whipping treat, let’s stripe you. Candy cane subs are always a delight to the crowd.” He then takes a single tail whip and works my shoulders, back, butt and then hind legs. The sound it makes as the tale whizzes through the air before the tip slashes across my skin is haunting. And painful as it leaves its red six-to-eight-inch mark, most right to left, the remainder left to right, across my skin. Yes, painful, but certainly less than my ball sack strikes and nipple clip removals. That doesn’t mean my body doesn’t jump and squirm involuntarily when each strike lands.

“Oh, you do stripe nicely. You’ll handle Sunday well,” he says soon after his last swing. That’s the second time he said something about Sunday, and the word crowd was used a couple of times too. Just how big is his party? Something else unknown to get anxious about, I guess.

Chapter 5: Servicing Master D, a New Journey

The whipping is done, but not his play time. He is now playing with my butt hole. He is using his fingers, not gracefully and without lube, but I can tell he is wearing surgical gloves. Contract health compliance I assume.

“You straight guys are always so nice and tight. It will make up for me having to wear a condom.”

My butt hole continues to be ravaged by his unlubed forceful fingers digitally raping me. Yet, I am happy as I can tell from his gloves and rubber comment that my health is going to be respected even if I can’t resist this new Master and then hopefully any friends that make up his playmates. When he gets to using three fingers, he finally adds a bit of lube. Thank you, I think to myself. I’m not sure I’m to express that gratitude out loud. Probably damned if I do, damned if I don’t. I take a wait and see posture.

These gay guys love to search out and massage the prostate. And Master D is doing just that. It is forceful yet stimulating. My penis is starting to react; I’m sure aided by the Cialis. Nothing hard, mind you, but stirring. I get fingered for a good ten minutes, then he switches to dildoes. Ones with handles. Mercifully, he adds additional lube. He takes pleasure in showing them to me and informs me, maybe closer to mocking me, that they are all well sanitized and safe.

He works me hard. This is more difficult in the semi-standing position that the pillory holds me in. On a pegging bench this is more pleasant. Well, neither is pleasant to me, but the bench is easier to take. He is increasing the size of the invaders as he goes on, stretching me out. I assume to ready me for the inevitable fucking I’m to receive as the night wears on. I am not wrong.

Master D eventually comes to a stop, satisfied with how wide he has stretched me. To hold the work, he roughly pushes in a butt plug. Not comfortable, not happy. He’s done with making me ready, and he says so, telling me it's now ‘me time’ for him.

He takes a socket wrench and loosens a bolt on each side of the pillory. Then he tells me to drop to my knees as he slides down the crossbar and retightens it, so my face is at waist height. I’m still blindfolded but sense what is coming. A few moments later, he removes my blindfold. He stands directly in front of me, so I can’t help but watch as he slowly strokes his dick making it semi-rigid. He moves to my right and puts his rod against my hand and says make it hard. As a good sub I obey without hesitation (for my own well-being), stroking him the best I can. He does respond. As I continue, he opens a condom, pulls away from my hand and rolls it on.

“Protected just for you Sissy. Both a sissy and a scared pussy, afraid I’ll give you HIV! Don’t you keep current? Ask Dr. D, he’ll tell you most gay men are clean or zero detectable. But I’ll follow your silly contract rules. Now open wide and do me right.”

Being forced to blow him isn’t enough, he feels the need to add more commentary to get my goat as he slides his dick into my mouth, “I’m told you are a journeyman at this, by Sunday you’ll be a master, just like all the Sissies I’ve come to know. Let me be clear, any straight boy wanting to be forced to suck cock is the essence of a sissy. Come to think of it, you’re probably as much a cuckold as a sissy, most likely hanging there right now fantasizing that I’ve just fucked your hot wife as you watched, her loving that a real man just did her, and now you are being forced to suck my cum mix and her pussy juice off my cock. Mmmmm, good, I bet you love that, you cuckold cock loving sissy.”

“You should have brought her along. I read your birthday bondage story. She did you up right, sounds like my kind of cunt. I’d be happy to do her in front of your cuckold bound sorry ass. You know she’d love my cock over yours. Just how could she marry someone equipped with a pre-pubescent wennie like that? So sad. Weren’t you even man enough to fuck her before you got hitched so she would have known? She would have ran out of the bedroom laughing!” he says trying his best to humiliate me. I found it more amusing than anything else.

This Dom is a verbalist. Someone who likes to goad his submissive with disparaging chatter. There is a Dom in the Common Bonds club that does that to me, but in a different goading style. Funny, that guy is one of my favorite abusers as he seems to care about me even more than the others. He really is a good guy despite his constant derogatory belittling words directed at me. I hope Master D turns out to have an inner core of decency too regardless of his outer rough guy banner.

Putting his commentary aside, I try to concentrate on giving a satisfactory blow job to avoid potential punishment. There are multiple things working against me. Of course, the biggest being I don’t like sucking cocks. Second, he’s wearing a rubber which makes all the tricks I’ve been taught for sucking and using the tongue and lips more difficult. And lastly, it is awkward and hard to blow him as the crossbar holding my neck puts me in a bad angle for sucking someone.

But we work in tandem. He holds onto my head and creates the movement. I do all I can with my lips and tongue. It goes well until he starts pushing too deep, which starts me choking and gagging, saliva flowing like a river. He pushes further in, holding my head firm and tells me to control it or he’ll leave it there until I pass out from lack of air.

As mentioned, his dick is ample in size. My mouth is full and now he’s push past the back of my mouth and is deep throating me. I’m in trouble. I try to arch forward my head to make the pathway straight and do all I can to blank out my gag reflex. I’m still getting no air as his groin is tight against my face, closing off my nostrils. No oxygen is getting by his dick even as I try to suck hard. And he knows it.

Seems like an eternity, probably just moments, when he releases his grip and pulls back, fully exiting my mouth and says, “That was fun, not bad for a first try. Don’t worry, you’ll get lots more chances to swallow me. Now let’s try out that tight hole of yours.”

I’m still doing my best to recover, sucking in air, expelling the river of drool, controlling my hacking as I feel him unceremoniously pulling out the plug. I try to look behind me, but the pillory won’t let me get a good look. I surmise he is on his knees as I feel his dick pressing against my hole. It’s already somewhat open from the extracted plug I’ve been wearing. Please God, have him use lube, he’s got a big cock I murmur to myself.

Prayer answered. I feel the cold and slick feeling as he penetrates me. He is taking his time. Going slow, moving in and out a little at a time. I’m stretched from his girth. I’m glad he took the time earlier to stretch me out. It’s making this easier for me. Don’t get me wrong, there is no enjoyment. This hurts. I’m trying to turn it into pain pleasure. And I’m getting there. It helps that I am concentrating on my forced raping while bound fantasies.

He's working me, picking up some steam. It feels awkward though. And he stops.

“This just isn’t doing it for me on my knees,” he says. “I’m going to stand you up again and fuck you that way.” He fetches his wrench, and the pillory is readjusted to put me back in my original standing position. In an instant he is back at my butt, still rigid, and I am repenetrated.

He can maneuver better this way, and within a few strokes he finds his rhythm. He begins to plow me in earnest. I hear him uttering contempt for the rubber, but he sure sounds like he is enjoying what he is doing to me. I can feel him thrusting upward with his legs, using the floor to push to his advantage. My rectum is finally accepting the assault. The pain has subsided. I still feel very full.

I have my concentration back and opt to being a good and willing submissive, trying to please my master. If I don’t make some kind of good impression I may be in for a very unpleasant weekend. I do the tricks my previous abusers have taught me, clenching and releasing, pushing backwards, working against his thrusts.

I’ve made a friend. His previous aggressive comments that I contribute to roleplaying and personal style have changed to positive reinforcement remarks. I’m now his ‘good little sissy’. And he rewards me with his climax and ejaculation, which he complains is wasted as the condom contains it all, leaving my butt cum free.

Being secured in a standing position by the pillory I think I’m safe from having to suck him clean after he has been in my ass. I’m wrong. Master D has wandered away but is back in a minute or two.

“Open your mouth,” I’m commanded. I do. Something is pushed past my lips. “Now close. Yeah, that’s my condom. I added a bit of water to give it more proportion. My cum is in there to provide the risk. I tied a knot in the very end to hold the contents. You are to lick and roll it around between your cheeks till it’s glistening clean. Careful, break it and your fears may be realized. Tell me, how does your ass taste today?”

How novel. Every trip West these people find new ways to abuse me. Certainly, this weekend I won’t be bored. BTW, I must have done a decent job cleaning myself out. This doesn’t taste like many of the soiled items that I have been told to clean after spending time in my own rectum, or in other men’s dark places, for that matter.

Chapter 6: Gross Overnight Assignment

I don’t need to twirl the condom long.

“Here, spit that out. It’s not chewing gum, you know,” as he puts a waste can under my mouth. It leaves intact.

I get more instructions; these will round out this evening’s activities. “I’m going to let you out momentarily. You are to go back to the bath, take off the ball stretcher, relieve yourself, and freshen your bottom. You are heading out on a date, make that four dates. I have four Dominants here overnight that do not have their subs with them. I’d be a bad host if I let each of them go to bed with out being satisfied. That would be normally done by their subs, but three didn’t bring them and I rented you away from the fourth.”

He continues, “So, you will be their surrogate sub. I will bind you in a way that you can service them in their bed any way they wish while your twisted mind will believe you are being forced to abide. You likely will spend about an hour with each. Your final date will be your own Sir Michael. You will remain with him the rest of the night. Treat them all as if you are their absent submissive lover. I know you hate it, but kissing was moved from your ‘preferred not-to-do list’ to ‘acceptable list’ long before I rented you, so, suck it up, if they want to kiss, you kiss, it’s in the contract.”

I'd been put in a ‘romantic cuddling’ situation on a previous trip. Hated it, made me very uncomfortable. That’s the problem of being forced to publish my thoughts after my servitude trips. My tormenters find out the things I loathe, and they find ways to exploit that on later adventures. That seems like the derivation of the emerging plot. Forced to act as a personal sub and lover to four other men because I’m straight. To be clear they don’t mistreat me solely for being straight but it is entertaining motivation for them occasionally. And I have come to expect it.

I am released. I head to my chores, different from past trips, I go without restraints, though I’m sure the dungeon is locked tight.

As promised, after I had cleaned myself up, I was returned to confinement. A three-inch-wide white leather belt is locked around my waist. Fastened to each side are short chains that connect to white leather locking wrist cuffs which are secured to mine. The chains should allow enough movement of my arms to pleasure the boys yet make me still feel controlled. He puts on matching white ankle cuffs locked together with a fourteen-inch hobbling chain. To round out my ensemble, I am fitted with a white leather collar. Bad news, it is equipped with a remote operated electric shock device similar to a dog training collar. I can feel its copper prongs pressing against my neck. That just eliminated any freedom of choice the wrist chains granted me.

I am handed the adjustable remote. “Test it.” I am told. With pleading eyes, I look at Master D. “That wasn’t a suggestion,” he barks at my hesitation. I push the center red button and nearly collapse to my knees in agony. Neck shocks are some of the worst. “Be aware that your collar is set at about three out of ten. You will give the controller to each of your dates tonight. It is at their pleasure to use it or not. It is also up to them as to what setting they wish to use. My suggestion is for you to internalize your man repulsions and keep your dates happy and satisfied. Think gay. It’s up to you; it’s your neck out there.”

Chapter 7: First Date

“Come on, Sissy, let’s not keep your first rendezvous waiting.”

He snaps onto my collar a white matching leash and I am led out of the dungeon, downstairs one level to the second floor. We headed to the far end of the hallway where Master D knocks on a closed door and we are told to enter. He opens the door, lets me in, unclips the leash, retreats, closing the door with me in the darkened bedroom with my date.

The room is lit with a few candles sitting within glass globes. Additional illumination is provided by one of those modern mock electric fireplaces flickering on the wall. How quaint. In a wing chair is one of the Social Club masters. He is the one I met on my second visit to Las Vegas. He is a rope bondage expert and has used me as a model to teach others how to tie up a submissive in multiple creative ways. A decent guy, but still a BDSM dominant. I stand, my back to the closed door, facing him from a distance.

“Come on over here, don’t keep me waiting,” I’m told.

I shuffle over to him with my hobbled ankles and drop to my knees, taking a submissive posture in front of him with my head bowed and holding the remote out in front of me like an offering.

“Nice. You’ve been well trained. I don’t require much,” he says as he takes the gadget from my hand and sets it on the table. I almost sigh in relief. He adds, “Just get me ready with your best blow job, then I want to take you to bed, fuck your ass till I cum, then I want you to rub my head and neck while I fall asleep as you hold me. When you hear the wrap on the door, slip out without waking me or there will be hell to pay in the morning.”

Nothing more was said. He is still sitting in his chair. I move a little closer and lean in. It is only then that I take full notice that he is completely naked. I’m not sure what I expected, but this is still a surprise. I know what I am to do. I don’t want to suck him off, so I think hard on my bondage situation and fantasize on two thoughts. Thought one: forced, think forced. That remote is right there, don’t perform and I will be punished severely. My mind concentrates on the facts, I’m secured like in my fantasies, locked in leather cuffs, hand and foot. But my mind argues back that I am mobile enough that I can flee. No, he will hurt me, brutally. I must do this; I have no choice. This line of thought works, and I get to it.

He is placid as I start with my hands, cupping his balls with one, stroking his dick with the other. He responds quickly. I give his tip a gentle kiss and start to lick his head and slit. It is unsettling that he has already produced some pre-cum. I quickly switch to my second thought. I close my eyes and just pretend this is my wife’s vagina. I love going down on her. Flesh is flesh to the tongue, if I just visualize her, I can do this. And this helps a lot.

He is hard and with his sounds and body tenseness it is obvious to me he is having a good time. Now, he is getting close to climax. I slow down my pace a little, and that simply makes him take over with his body movements, clasping my head with his hands and he thrusts his hips into me. I let my lips clinging tightly around his shaft to provide the sensation and his stroking to provide everything else he wants.

I am readying myself for the inevitable shot of cum into my mouth and throat, when he gently pulls out, takes my hand and stands up. He then tugs me up and walks me to the bed and motions for me to climb in. That is a little difficult with my restraints, but he assists. That helps me get up and helps him in positioning me the way he wants and that is on my stomach. While still standing beside the bed he lifts my belly and chest, pushing multiple pillows under me, setting me up in a supported semi-doggie style stance.

It’s fuck time and he comes on board and does me. A little lube is applied and his larger than mine, but not excessively big cock teases my opening before he tenderly takes me. Again, I don’t enjoy being fucked by other men. However, he treated my hole to the nicest assault I think it has ever received by my capturers. I think he is really treating me as if I was his own submissive partner who he had left at home. One who he abuses in play but still loves dearly. So different, I usually serve as the Dom’s release outlet for exploitation and abuse that they can’t or won’t do to their own sub.

Don’t be confused, his fuck was for his pleasure. And he got what he wanted; he loaded my ass full of cum by the time he was done. Leaving his shrinking dick within me, he rolled me over on my side pushing the pillows away as best he could and held onto me in a tight hug. During this entire time, he didn’t speak and I wouldn’t dare.

We laid there a few minutes, when he pulled out, rolled over and finally uttered, “hold me.” The two of us must have laid there a good twenty minutes, me holding him in an uncomfortable embrace. He fell asleep almost immediately. It is hard to keep my thoughts on pleasant things as my cuddling him is repulsive to me. I am saved by a soft rap on the door.

“Time,” is all I hear.

I carefully unentangle my arms from around him and slip out of the bed. I glance over at the bedside table, see the remote, and knowing the penalty will be severe if I leave it behind, I pick it up. I guess the thought of safety was also in the back of my mind as I find myself blowing out the candles before exiting.

Chapter 8: Next Date

I opened the door to find Master D’s sub waiting. He attaches the leash to my collar, says nothing, walks me down the hall to another bedroom door and knocks on it.

“Come in, it's not locked,” I hear from inside.

The sub opens the door, unclasps the leash from my collar, gestures for me to enter and closes the door behind me. The lights are on and I can identify this date immediately. It’s the verbally abusive master from the club. I sure it would be detrimental for me to rank my favorite abusers, but I do especially like this guy. He has proven to be very caring about my overall well-being, yet he has also been one of the harshest to me in many of the ‘play’ situations I have endured. Baffling, I know.

I immediately took a kneeling position, with head bowed and my arms outstretched with the offering of the remote. He takes it and in an instant I’m shocked. The unexpected jolt collapses me to the floor. Fighting back the receding agony I get back in my submissive stance.

“Good, glad to know the collar works. For the moment I’m going to take it off. Before I fuck that lovely ass of yours, I need a shower. You are my lather and towel boy,” he tells me. “I don’t want to get the electronics wet; it belongs to Master D,” he adds and off it comes.

He then wastes no time heading directly to the shower. I rise and follow. It is a walk-in bath with a rain style overhead shower head and a handheld second head mounted at waist height. The right side has a built-in tiled bench seat. Hanging on a ceramic hook is a luffa. A new bar of soap is in the soap dish. Shampoo and conditioner sit at the back of the bench. A normal bath set-up.

He instructs, “Make the water nice and warm, but not too hot. Set the selector valve to direct the water through the handheld and rain head.”

I do. I also do my best to not get my leather restraints wet but that is not possible as the ceiling rain drops cover most of the shower. He reaches his hand into the water, approves the temperature and steps in with me. He removes the handheld from its holder, moves to the bench side and sits down, holding the head behind him so it sprays over his shoulders allowing water to cascade down both his chest and back.

“OK, Cunt, I mean Sissy, oh screw it, you’re my date so you are Cunt to me. Get on your knees and suck me off. I want your best blow job, but just don’t make me blow my load, I want that for your ass,” he orders. Seems just like my last date wanted.

I comply. My wife and I have bathed together countless times. There are many ways to sexually play in the shower, and we’ve enjoyed most of them. My favorite is going down on her, loving both her delicious pussy and the warm water spraying down over us. That is the thought I concentrate on as with my eyes closed I service my date. The restraints cause some limitations, but my lips and tongue do their duty. He has to back me down more than once. I am getting good at this, much to my dismay and mental confusion.

After a few close calls, he decides he has had enough of being sucked and directs me to move onto his bathing. I stand up, but he stays sitting for the moment as I would otherwise not be able to wash his upper body with my arms secured as they are. I lather up the luffa and begin to scrub him down.

He is cooperating with the washing and not trying to make it difficult for me. He really wants the bath and is enjoying me giving it to him. With the top done, he stands so I can do his privates and legs. The wash is challenging, not the physical aspects, he is, as I said, being helpful and the bonds have enough slack to allow me to scrub. It is a mental struggle that causes the trial. I lather up his somewhat hairy chest. He bends over so I can effectively clean his ass. Then he arches forward to get his ball sack and member scrubbed. To a straight man, naked in a shower, having to wash another man, this is just gross.

Soaped up, he hands me the shower wand, and I give him a thorough rinse. He tells me to bend over, and he then washes my butt area, telling me, “I don’t want a smelly ass to fuck. What filth and cum resides inside your hole is your problem, and you’ll be cleaning up after yourself when I’m done doing you, I promise.” I know what that means, ATM, i.e. ass to mouth.

There is already a load of cum in there, sounds like he’ll add another. I hope my earlier douche at least makes me otherwise clean. He rinses my crack and it’s on to drying. There are large bath towels here and I do my best at drying him off, but my arm restrictions inhibit my reaching his head and shoulders. I am chastised for my failure with him blaming ‘my ridiculous need to be bound before serving as a submissive’ contract language. I try to redeem myself by making sure his privates are well dried, but in this master’s eyes, punishment is warranted for failure, good service is simply expected.

He then towels me down. Not nearly as well as I did him; to be expected, I guess. I’m surprised to find that my leather cuffs and belt haven’t absorbed much, if any, water. Contrary, I’m not surprised that this particular master reattached my electro-collar without delay. And then retested it, nearly dropping me to my knees again.

In a BDSM household, play toys need not be limited to a dungeon. To my dismay this bedroom has been provided with a rimming chair. I don’t know if it is here by request or is a standard feature for this room, but it is where my date takes me next. I’m ordered to lay down supine on a cushioned mat that is on the floor next to the chair. I am barely in place when he sets the chair over my head, adjusts it down and takes his seat.

Rimming is another act that I generally abhor. I don’t want to lick his hole, but I have been forced to do this before, and I know I will do it now. But apparently, I didn’t get my tongue up in his crack fast enough as I am shocked again.

“Get to it, Cunt! You’re not on vacation. You’re here to be my surrogate sub. I don’t allow lollygagging from mine, so I am certainly not going to tolerate it from you, you sissy worthless piece of shit cunt,” he shouts out as I try to get my composure back from my spasming neck while simultaneously trying to thrust my tongue up his hole.

He likes to be rimmed. And so, I am at it a good ten minutes, doing anything and everything I can think of with my lips and tongue, so fearful that I will be shocked again for poor performance, or at the very least, hear his wrath. His wiggling and pressing down of his butt against my mouth coupled with words of ecstasy being uttered instead of his usual degrading prose tells me I just might survive without any more shock torture.

I can sense he is stroking his cock as I service his crack. He is of ample size. I know as he has fucked me numerous times before. I figure he is readying himself to do me again. I am right. He stands up from his chair as I am in mid-tongue stroke along one of his butt cheeks.

“Come on Cunt, get on the bed,” he tells me. I climbed onto the bed, looking at him for general instructions. “On your back. Spread your legs as wide as your chain will allow.”

I do as I am told. He follows me. He gathers up my legs and bends them up so that they are being held above my head, fully exposing my pegging hole. I glanced up and saw that he was rock hard. I don’t get how looking down at another man’s bent over hairy ass can excite you, but it has him ready to take me. It reminds me that I’m not gay, and that he is.

Not sure when, but he had already lubed his cock, so as he thrust deep into my spread hole in a single motion, he penetrated me without much effort on his part. To me I am stretched without the benefit of any foreplay and so I am in pain. A lot of pain.

He gets right to a rhythm that pleases him. He is making no attempt to provide me with pleasure; this is all for him. He remarks about how glorious it is to fuck such a tight hole. He’s being complementary but his language is still gruff and belittling, his style. I find it funny, and that probably pisses him off. He gets his do, though, his abuse and pain delivery that accompanies it can go off the chart.

I could have just laid there and let him take me and he’d still get off. But I know better. He and his friends have taught me the hard way of how to use my rectum muscles and body movement to make this even more gratifying for the Top. And I know I better do those things. His movement from harsh to reassuring words of ‘good cunt’ and others indicate I am doing as trained.

He has stamina. I’m fucked for a long time. Longer than I could go if I was doing my wife’s pussy this way. This must be a stimulating and comfortable mount for him as he doesn’t change how I am positioned with my legs still trapped over my head, bent into a pretzel. I am starting to cramp but say nothing. I know my role. And though it is not a cake walk for me being folded this way, I can see how this is both an easy and relaxing way for him to get ultimate pleasure and effectiveness from his thrusts. His pleasure is all that matters here.

When he finally climaxes, it’s impressive as to how long he ejaculates in me. It seems to go on forever. With some fanfare, he collapses onto me, exhausted and simply exclaims, “Amazing ass, a bound straight hole is the best. I want to do you again and again.”

You’d think then I’d be treated better, but I am a BDSM submissive, being used then abused is part of the fantasy and is now my reality. And so, he withdraws from my ass, moves up my body so his cock is at my mouth and I am told, “Cunt, clean that nasty cum and shit off my dick.” Ugh.

I’m nearly done with that disgusting task when there is a knock on the door. It's time for my third date of the evening. I start to withdraw from what I was doing when Master says, “Better make sure that cock is whistle clean, Cunt. You don’t go anywhere till I’m satisfied. And we better cork that ass of yours or you’ll be dripping all the way down the hall. I’m known for my cum loads.”

I finish; he secures my hole with a chrome plug and points me to the door. There I am leashed again and escorted by Master D’s sub to a neighboring room.

Chapter 9: Date Three, the Philistine

I ‘know’ this date from the club too. What had slipped my mind when we all met up at the airport was that he is uncircumcised. The only member of the club that retains his foreskin.

Everybody has their likes and dislikes. Foreskins give me the willies. They did long before I started engaging in forced sexual play with the fellas, before I ever touched or sucked a penis. I’m facing a huge challenge mentally if I must suck and be fucked by him. And I must. And I do. And it is. No disrespect to my master of the moment, but his dick is gross. And this would be the vilest event of the night.

When he fucked me in the bed from behind, laying on top of me, it wasn’t so bad. It just felt ‘different’, kind of slippery when moving in and out of me. The post climax cuddling, hugs and kisses on the back of my neck while we were both naked, with his limp cock pressed against me, was no worse than the romancing from the other guys. But the sucking, it almost made me bring up my Jersey Mike’s sub. This voluntary blow job with my active participation was revolting.

I just couldn't get into the fantasy force mode that I crave. No matter how hard I tried to shift my mind to other thoughts, the reality of what my tongue, lips and hand were feeling made me ill. Everything about his dick was a turnoff. I so wish my restraints were such that I could provide zero resistance and that my mouth was gagged open, completely unable to stop him. Maybe then this scene would have worked for me. My performance on him was therefore bad.

This BDSM master is not as abusive and certainly doesn’t verbalize like my last date, but he is still a dominant. A dominant who is not getting what he normally gets from his own sub. And he is not happy.

“I know you are new at this, but I expected better sucking than that. Before I take your ass, I’m going to show you that you must do better next time. Stand and wait,” I am told.

He walks away. I hear water running for a moment and then hear his footsteps as he returns. In his hand is a towel from the bathroom, its one end thoroughly moistened. I was lashed with a wet towel once before at Sir Michael’s; it can be as wicked as any flogger or whip.

That fact is proven as he circles me sending hits to my back, chest, butt, cock and balls. The unique snapping sound, reminiscent of locker room days, doesn’t give justice to the energy unleashed by the cloth as it contacts my skin. My wrists and ankles may be cuffed, giving an illusion of being restrained but standing here on the open floor taking the hits is difficult. The body is begging to flee, its almost impossible not to. It takes all I’ve got to not move from my position while accepting my deserved punishment.

Satisfied that I had learned both my lesson and paid my penance, I was directed to the bed. Every heterosexual has their preferred way of fucking, and so it is with homosexuals. This master likes his sub bent over the bed, feet on the floor so he can stand behind and thrust upward with the strength of his legs. And that is how he takes me, driving hard till he leaves his load in me.

As he extracts himself from my rectum, he immediately forces a plug back in with the comment that he doesn’t want me to soil the sheets with his precious sperm and adds that I should be honored that it remains within me. He continues his babble that he bets that I would prefer it in my belly. He then tells me not to worry as he always holds back a few drops, so, get on my knees and suck it out. Another ATM trial for me to bear, made worse by the addition of the foreskin.

I do as I was asked, make that told. He in fact has a few drops that I milk out. Still not satisfied, he then insists that I also lick his shaft clean of the cum slime that is making it glisten. I have to engage my hands to pull him back, so much more than licking a hooded cock. I may vomit; it takes a lot not to.

He is now ready to bed down for the night, exhausted from his satisfying fuck of a tight, and now, sloppy plugged hole. He has me climb in first, positioning himself behind me, holding me tight as we lay on our sides. He nibbles on my neck, and kisses it, giving me the shivers. Thankfully, he falls asleep quickly. I try to concentrate on thoughts other than this. His snoring makes it hard. Finally, my anticipated knock comes, and I scoot out of bed the best I can without disturbing my sleeping beauty.

Chapter 10: Last Stop for the Evening

I’m dropped off at what should be my last date of the evening. It should be the room of my actual owner, and when not on out on a BDSM play weekend, my best friend Mike’s. It is. Or should I say, it is the room of Sir Michael, as this is a play weekend.

I’m let in not knowing what to expect. I don’t think he will want to be romantic, we have always avoided that when playing in order to preserve our normal platonic relationship we have outside of the BDSM play. I am about to see.

“This is what I have planned. You love tight bonds. That leather belt and cuffs don’t come close. You love to be plastic wrapped. Our host was kind enough to provide me with a roll of black industrial strength stretch wrap, your favorite. My plan is to wrap you up, lay you down on one side of the bed where you’ll stay till morning. I’ll leave enough room for me. Once I get you settled in, I’m going back to watching my Chaturbate website. Likely you’ll fall asleep long before I’m done. But you know I’m headed for bed because I’ll jack myself off, cumming on your face, something for you to enjoy the rest of the night having no hands,” he says with a gleeful tone and a broad smile on his face.

He takes me into the bathroom first to let me relieve myself, thank you, then has me stand near the bed. My current restraints will provide no obstacles; they even help the process and fantasy a little. He starts at my shoulders, wrapping around in a slight downward motion, quickly trapping first my upper arms, then lower arms and hands to my body, continuing down forcing my legs together as he travels all the way to my feet. I love this feeling, the tightness. It really is my favorite way to be bound. He transitions to an upper movement till he is all the way back to my neck.

I’ve been wrapped many times before, by Sir Michael, by Dr. D and even by my wife. So, I know to expand my chest as he goes by it so that my breathing will not be overly restricted. Sir Michael tells me he won’t be wrapping my head as it could be dangerous when I fall asleep. He then tells me that while he is sleeping, Dr. D’s sub and the other sub here from the Club will be taking shifts watching me. Safety is always a priority for Sir Michael when it comes to my bondage and I’m grateful, even if it does take some of the exciting edge off our play.

He makes four paths both up and down my body. I am tightly wrapped. I can move none of my limbs, even my fingers are restricted. A true cocoon. I love it. He maneuvers me back against the edge of the bed, then pushes me over and I plop down onto the mattress. He spins me around, so I am properly aligned to sleep.

I try to move, first individual body parts. Nothing moves; I am well wrapped. Then I try to roll my whole body, again, nothing happens, I am stuck where I have been placed. No fear of rolling out of bed.

I thought he was done but he wasn’t. I feel him pulling at the wrap and I know he is starting the process of cutting out my nipples. He is careful with the shears yet still makes quick work out of exposing my buds. He then goes to work cutting out my junk. He doesn’t make a big hole, just enough to pull out my cock and balls. They have a feeling of being free yet still held tight.

I figured the nipple exposure was for clothespins or clamps, and they will be. But first he warms them up with multiple slaps with a riding crop. The same treatment then is applied to my dick and balls. Nothing I can do but endure. He is having fun. He wasn’t originally into BDSM play but he has been having more enjoyment out of each time he has been able to abuse his best straight friend.

Once he grows tired of this, he applies adjustable screw down clamps to my nipples. Then, to my surprise starts to fondle, lick, then suck my penis. He’s good. He has had a lot of practice with others as he explored the gay world. And even though I especially do not like my buddy sucking me, I can’t stop myself from getting hard. He brings me close a couple of times.

After taking a short break, he gets me hard a third time then stops and lubes me up. Lube? Oh shit, I think he is going to use me as a fucking post. Sure enough, he drops the shorts he was wearing and climbs on top of my tight black cocoon. With his hand he keeps me hard as he aligns his butt over me and guides my dick head into his hole. His rectum has gotten a lot of use over the years. I am not oversized. As a result, a quick squat down of my partner and I have penetrated him to the base of my shaft. He rides me slowly to start. It feels great but my mind is not happy about this.

To help, I start a bondage and forced rape fantasy in my head. While not the reason for doing it, the result is I stay hard. It's now the Sir Michael show. He likes being a Bottom as well as a Top. He wants his ass fucked, and he knows I can’t stop him. In fact, there is very little I can contribute to this but a hard dick and the cum building within. He is going to steel a fuck by his best friend if I want him to or not.

I don’t have the endurance of the others, nor any desire to prolong this, so it’s not too long before I, for the first time, cummed in another man’s ass. At least I think this is the first time. These guys have sexually abused me in so many ways that it is hard to remember all the things I’ve done as I try to block many of them out. I do know that this did feel good. Ejaculating always does.

Sir Michael stays on me until I start to shrink. Then to my frustration, he slides his body up my bound torso crossing the pinched nipples till he reaches my head and squarely puts his crack down on my face saying simply, “You know what to do, you owe me.”

As already indicated, rimming is one of my least favorite abuses I have had to endure. Now my best friend’s ass is rubbing against my mouth. It’s not the first time. I think it is; however, the first time it has been filled with cum. At least its mine. Contrary to me, being rimmed is his favorite thing. He has placed me in my most wanted bondage; I feel compelled, as well as required by our servitude contract, to please him. I give him a great job. The stimulation and gravity, sad to say, causes most of the cum I just deposited in him to be returned to me.

Once he is pleasured and licked clean, he climbs off, tells me good night, dims the lights and goes back to his Chaturbate, turning up the volume to annoy the straight guy as he’s watching what sounds like two guys going at it with a vengeance. It doesn’t take long for me to drift off, contemplating the evening now past, tomorrow and this mysterious Sunday, all while trying to clear cum that coats my lips and mouth. My cum and whatever.

Not sure how long it has been, but as promised, my sleep is broken, as my friend, my best friend, jacks off onto his helpless buddy’s face. His facial hits my eyes, nose and cheeks, startling me awake, but he concentrates most of his plentiful load onto my lips, knowing there is no place for it to go but into my mouth as he commands it to be opened. I obey almost unconsciously as I am not yet fully awake. As I open, he leans in, pushing his still stiff dick into my mouth as he milks out with his hand any remaining semen.

He leaves, as I try to deal with what is on my face and in my mouth. Totally bound but for my head, there is little I can do but endure it. I hear him taking a piss in the bathroom. He is back with the orders to reopen and stick out my tongue. As I obey, unaware why, he shakes his cock and a few remaining drops of urine from his bathroom stop splash down onto my tongue. Not finished with this humiliation, he says to lick his slit dry and reluctantly I do. My reward is a ‘good boy’ and a ‘nighty-night my cum loving straight toilet toy’.

Chapter 11: Night Watchmen with Secondary Duties

Sir Michael is back to his Chaturbate. I lay here trying to fall back to sleep as my facial dries, my tongue trying its best to at least wipe my lips and mouth clean. There is a light knock, and he opens the door to let in my first night watchman. Both my date and I are still awake, so I don’t need this extra caretaker monitoring at the moment. The two of them sit down and enjoy the website.

I do fall asleep; it has been a long day. Not sure for how long when my sleep is again disrupted. You would too if your dick was being sucked and fondled. In the predicament I am in for the weekend, I sometimes focus on just my realities and forget that I am here with a bunch of BDSM submissive and dominant gay guys looking forward to sexual kinky and decadent adventures too. Doing a straight guy, be you a sub or Dom, is both fun and hot. And this bound Straight is free for the taking.

He sucks me just long enough to get me hard. The Cialis I took earlier is still helping. He then climbs into the bed and lays on top of me in a sixty-nine-position seeking exactly that sex act. He presses his rigid member against my mouth. No sense in fighting it, I open and let him in. He's taken my dick in his mouth too. And he is doing most of the work, raising and lowering his head on my cock, and he is doing the same with his hips, thrusting his member up and down in my mouth. I simply close my lips around him. I don’t even use my tongue.

And he keeps at it, doing marvelous things to my cock and balls, while stuffing my mouth without gagging me or causing any other undue duress. Even though I have shot a load not too long ago, he gets me to climax, and I ejaculate into his mouth. When he has sucked and licked all my cum that he can from my tired penis, that bastard turns around on me, puts his mouth on mine. Initially I keep my lips tight, but he just lets what he has collected in his mouth dribble down on mine.

He dismounts me and takes a seat in a nearby chair to begin his monitoring duties. I keep my lips closed for the longest time. I just don’t want to deal with swallowing my goo again, not to mention his saliva. But as I start to fade into sleep, I unconsciously relax my lips and the inevitable happens. And with my mouth, tongue and throat coated again I fall asleep.

A shift change must have occurred sometime while I slumbered as I was awoken a third time by someone licking my penis. Everyone’s technique is different so I can tell this isn’t Sir Michael nor my last watchman/partner who sixty-nined me to orgasm. It turns out this is his replacement. They had both been given permission, maybe specific directions from their Doms, to enjoy their time watching me.

This guy enjoys sucking dick. He enjoys swallowing all the cum he can extract from his suck job, the more seed the better. He’s heading for disappointment as my balls have been emptied three times already this evening. He is talented though and is able to make me rock-hard. He works long and hard at it. He never gives up. My dick would rather not play at this point. But his persistence wins and he makes me shoot once again. He milks me well past a comfort point as he tries for more and I squirm in my tight wrap to his delight.

He swallows his small reward. For the first time this long night I won’t be ending a rendezvous with eating my cum. He is now in the watching chair. I can hear Sir Michael snoring next to me. It will take a while, but I do fall back to sleep. This time I won’t be interrupted till morning.

I wake to the cold feel of shears working to free me from my wrap. Sir Michael is doing the cutting. Once free of the plastic, he unlocks and takes off my leather cuffs. He makes quick work of it and my stiff body is now free from any bounds. As I am allowed to sit on the edge of the bed to stretch out my limbs, I am given a bottle of water. It is wonderful to refresh my mouth. It has been tasting foul all night.

Chapter 12: Getting Ready for the New Day

The sun is brightly coming into the room. Seems they let me sleep in. I am picked up from Sir Michael’s assigned guest room by my rental master, Master D. He brought handcuffs with him and puts them on me, my hands now secured behind my back. He tells me its not for him, but for me.

We are back upstairs in the dungeon where I am given my freedom, be it only within the confines of it.

“I’ve fixed you a blueberry/spinach smoothie for your breakfast. It’s got honey yogurt, bananas, protein and energy powders in it too. (California health food people, oh wow.) Don’t worry, we didn’t screw with it, though your good friend Dr. D did suggest we put a pee head on it, but I didn’t. I also have a granola bar for you. I don’t want you to have too much in your belly, but I do want you to be energized. You have a long day and evening ahead of you. My partner and I always throw a big party this weekend. You should be well used; you are somewhat of a novelty in my dungeon. And my group of friends always like something new, better yet, someone new. Someone that is new to it all. You’re perfect, thanks for coming”

He continues, “I’m going to leave you and go have breakfast with my other guests. Drink your smoothie and eat your bar as you work on your journal. Then shower and cleanse yourself. It's in your best interest to do a good job. Shave, brush your teeth, take your meds and anything else that is part of your morning routine.”

He then gives his final instructions, “When done, you are to cork yourself with the butt plug you’ll find sitting on top of the bigger cage. Its large, but with effort, you’ll get it in. You’ll like it, it’s a vibrator with multiple settings. Put it on high pulsing, that should be entertaining for you. Get in the cage and lock it closed. You’ll see the open padlock there. I have the key. Inside the cage there will be a pair of handcuffs. Put them on, hands behind your back. The party starts at about noon. We’ll be back before then to get you ready.” And he leaves.

I follow his instructions. The smoothy was tasty. Busy night last night so there was a lot to record in my diary. (Sorry, that’s why this story is so long.) I did a thorough job in the shower. Made sure all was cleaned up afterwards. I noticed that the special urinal was, as before, unmanned. I’m not rushing but not taking my time either. I know that there are cameras throughout watching me and I don’t want to be punished for dallying. He expects me in the cage sooner than later.

I wasn’t offered any lube, so I assume the plug is to go in without it. I wet my fingers with my saliva and tried to paint my hole with them. Then I do the best I can with my tongue to lude the plug. I turned it on. Vibration always helps with bearing the pain of insertion. Still, it is work pushing it in. As promised, its large and the final twist and shove is excruciating. It takes a moment or two to catch my breath.

I get into the cage; thankful I have been given the larger one. This one will give me a little room to move, the other there would be none. I maneuver myself so that I am in what I hope will be the most comfortable sitting position, then close the door and lock it. One last task, I snap the handcuffs on my wrists, behind my back in accordance with my master’s wishes.

And I sit. Caged and cuffed, butt being desensitized by the erotic buzzing of the vibrator plug fills me. Plenty of time to ponder, fantasize, worry, even de-stress. That is one of the primary reasons I’m here. That, and because I love bondage and these guys turn fantasy into reality.

No clock, but in thinking it through afterwards, I calculated that I was caged for two, maybe two and a half hours before the boys entered. So much contemplating that I never got bored with my predicament.

Chapter 13: Humanely Suspended as a Usable Party Decoration

Initially, I remain caged as people enter the Dungeon. Most of the ‘Club’ members are here as are a few people I don’t recognize. Seems like they are all planning, organizing, and setting up for the afternoon and evening events. Some are working together, some individually. For example, three guys are assembling a pipe and rail fittings system. One of them might be a sub as it appears they are sizing it for him or someone his size.

Eventually, Master D and Dr. D came for me. They pulled me out of my jail cell and marched me to the bath facility, hands still cuffed behind me, vibrator still doing its thing. I am taken directly to the special urinal where I am told to pee.

The fixture has been manned. I will find out after the weekend that it was Master D’s own sub. There is also someone sitting on a folding chair in the corner, reminding me of a bathroom attendant. My warped mind, considering the current circumstances, ponders how I am to tip him as I have no pockets to hold change.

Instant shy bladder. I am under the watchful eye of two men who are holding me and someone watching me from behind. I am about to pee into a fixture that will drain into another one’s mouth. Both those thoughts shut me down. The strong vibration in my ass doesn’t help. My failure to perform doesn’t please either of them. And they came prepared. Master D has in his hand a mini-livestock shock rod, i.e. a tiny cattle prod. No warning, just a simple and powerful shock to my right butt cheek that buckles my knees.

“Think you can pee now Sissy?” barks Master D. I try, but not fast enough to suit him and I get a second jolt to my left cheek, this time making me collapse against the porcelain urinal. I stagger back upright as I am sternly warned, “The next one will be on your ball-sack if you don’t get to it.”

I don’t know how, other than from utter fear, I start to pee. It wasn’t a lot, but certainly a stream was produced. Selfishly my mind is more concerned about my own well-being than the person who is now being forced to drink my urine. I’ve been forced to drink both my own and other people’s urine before, not pleasant.

Handcuffed and my shock-shaky knees barely supporting me, my handsfree aim wasn’t perfect. That meant I had a little mess to clean up. I’m pushed to my knees and told to lick both the forward rim of the bowl and then the tile floor in front of it. The rim is cold and wet. The wetness is me. Well, I hope it’s just me. There is also a pubic hair which now sticks to my tongue.

As I do the floor, I feel the urinal’s eyes staring at me. I take a quick guilty look at him (I assumed it was a him) and return to my task. Bending all the way to the floor while on my knees without my arms, it is difficult not to smash my face as I tongue the floor. So, it certainly doesn’t help knowing I am being watched by those eyes. It also doesn’t help that my escorts pick this time to turn off, then roughly pull the plug from my butt.

I swear they are two pees in a pod, as one says to the other. “Think he wants to lick this clean too?”

To which the other replies, “Why wouldn’t he?

And so, they pull me upright with my hair. and into my mouth goes the plug that has been vibrating my rectal track for the past two plus hours. Nothing stays clean under those conditions. At least my mind is off that hair.

I am then escorted back into the center of the dungeon. I am told to sit on the floor where I am uncuffed, hooded, and then bound by ropes. The hood was a loose fitting full headed leather piece with open eyes and mouth. I was told that its purpose was to keep my anonymity with the guests who would be at the party. Odds are that absolutely no one would be there that would know me, but for my own ease I would be covered.

The rope work is done by an expert. On my second visit to Las Vegas, I was used as a model for rope ties in a set of bondage training films. This guy was the instructor.

He ties my right leg first. He starts by placing my leg through a loop at the end of a four-foot webbing strap. He then secures my ankle to the back of my upper thigh with rope using five, maybe six, lashing loops, then clenches the loops with a few tight frapping turns to create a basic frog tie. The strap loop now held tight within the crook in my leg. This is then repeated on my other leg then similarly done to my two arms.

Next up he ties a multiple loop bowline around my mid-section and a second one around my neck. For the non-Boy Scouts reading this, the bowline knot is primarily used to create a fixed loop (in my case multiple like sized fix loops) at the end of a rope. It is a good non-slip knot. While both the coils around my body and neck are loose, the knots are tight while retaining the desired slack in the loops.

I am then moved with the help of three other guys to under the rope hoist. The suspension bar has been removed and replaced with a large ring. It is lowered down so that it is a few feet above me.

The four straps that were secured in the crooks of my legs and arms each have a carabiner fastened to their leading ends. They are snapped onto the ring and then adjusted so that all my limbs are pulled toward the ring at equal lengths. The waist and neck ropes are then secured to the ring so that they are the same lengths as the straps.

With little fanfare, I am hoisted upward off the floor to about waist height. I am very surprised but there is very little stress from the suspension. My weight is equally distributed to the five primary suspension lines. The neck rope’s primary job is to hold up my head. It does so without any constriction on my throat. The boys even make some minor adjustments to the rope and strap lengths to make the load well balanced.

Again, while I wouldn’t call this comfortable, I am bearing no real body stress. That’s a good thing, as I will hang here for a substantial amount of time. I am told I am serving multiple purposes. As I am right in the center of the room, for the guests who enter the dungeon I am a display piece, sort of artwork, sort of eye candy, sort of precautionary warning to submissives. I am at work height, and anyone who would like to use either of my vulnerable holes are invited to do so.

I am warned that any guests may elect to use my defenseless privates and body. That is the Host’s desire, I’m to serve as his party favor to the guests, his gesture of thanks for their attendance, a sort of memento of the occasion. (No real need to remind me, the way I am tied, stretched and hung, my planned use by others seems obvious.) To boost my growing angst, I’m shown a collection of floggers, whips and electro toys they have set on a table beside me ‘to correct any behavior deemed worthy of modification’. Then it was added, ‘or just because it’s a hoot to be able to torture the straight sissy’.

Chapter 14: Hanging Around Serving the Guests

I am surprised at how many different people come into the dungeon over the course of the afternoon, evening and night. Of course I am not hanging there the whole time. It probably was no more than two hours. I was taken down, not so much because of the suspension stress, but because the rope ties should not be endured for much longer than that. Besides, they had other uses for me.

I was busy while I was suspended. My butt was visited multiple times. I could usually see my attacker. Two boys from the ‘club,’ penetrated me for a couple of minutes of fucking as they happened by. I was also fucked by three people I didn’t know. Rules must have been expressed to them, as they all used rubbers. Which upon completion of there fun were left on my chest. One filled with cum from the only fellow that went all the way to completion. He got me swaying quite a bit as he pounded me.

My mouth was used three times. Each one of them were boys of ample size, much to my dismay. Why does it seem that most gay men have big dicks? And one was my own Sir Michael. He must have been playing with others already as he did not taste fresh. The other two had rubbers on. Rubbers have their own unsatisfying taste. They certainly weren’t flavored condoms. No one cummed in my mouth, I’m grateful.

None of my whippings were due to poor service. But I was whipped. Mostly with a riding crop. One menacing looking guy, decked out in heavy leather, played havoc with both my nipples and my balls. His lashing stung like hell. He knew I was to be called Sissy and used it with his derogatory comments that accompanied his assault.

Turns out my position is well suited to paddling too as another guest reddened both my butt cheeks with a string of swats. Hitting the same cheeks another used his bare hands. Much to my relief I received no shocks or other electro play.

I was fucked, orally used and whipped, but most of the boys merely came to look at me. While they were there, they would rub my body, tweak my nipples and most often, fondle my balls and cock. I got mostly positive comments on my body. Many suggested what they would do to me, but now wasn’t the right time. Two asked if they could also ‘rent’ me for a weekend. I took it as a rhetorical question not requiring an answer. In fact, I remained silent the entire time.

Chapter 15: Next Assignment, Pipe Rack Service

I was taken down and untied mid-afternoon. While up in position I was certainly featured entertainment. However, there was much going on around me too. Mostly its was Dom/sub couples making use of the other furniture. I watched one younger guy put in the pillory that I had already suffered on. He too took his licks in both a stern whipping and then a hard pounding in his hole by a well-endowed much older master.

Another couple made use of the St Andrews cross. He was tied so his back was facing outward. I have always been secured face out. His howling indicated his lashing was fierce from either a flogger or whip, not sure which was used.

There was some kind of tutorial going on with someone strapped to the pegging bench and three people behind him discussing methods of hand work. There was enough other buzz from conversations in the room that I couldn’t really hear what was being taught.

Much more was going on, but my own bondage, a hood that inhibited some of my peripheral vision and frequent use by others limited my voyeurism.

My next stop would be the wall. As they begin, they change out my hood with a half hood, this one is a more firm fit than the full hood. I’m told it will still conceal my identity unless someone is here that knows me well. And, for the first time this weekend, I am gagged. A sponge is put into my mouth, and it is secured by electrical tape wrapped multiple times around my mouth and head. Very effective, I am mute.

They then ‘mounted’ me to the wall. I was set up in a rig that secured my arms spread downward, my legs pushed upward and spread, my bottom projected outward and my shoulders and back pressed to the wall. It took three guys to hold me while two others ratcheted the bolts that secure the pipes around me. There is a lot to this assembly. Understandably, as it had to provide the support and the restraint to hold me firm and open in the air, jutting out into the room.

The position was not very comfortable, unlike my rope suspension, and had my ass situated in the air where it could be easily played with and penetrated. And as such, over the next hour, maybe closer to two, my free and available butt received no less than six different cock visits. I’m still the host’s party favor, just in a different spot. The total times my rectum has now been used are adding up fast and I have become sore and stretched, but luckily no tears or other damage. Most guys apply lube and that is my saving grace.

Two of them belonged to Dr. D and another Club master that was here without his sub. And four were the dicks of new ‘friends’. No one asked permission, they just took me. My group knew that was acceptable by my contract. The word must have been shared as the second four, likewise, also took me without hesitation or caution, except for the wearing of protection.

While I have gotten used to being pegged in my ass by other men, I still don’t get any erotic pleasure from it. In many conversations over the years with Sir Michael, he laments about all the nerve endings in the sphincter being stimulated along with the pressure on the prostate, but I just don’t feel it.

To help, I concentrate on my inability to stop it. I focus on how I’m secured; I even try to struggle to the extent that my bonds allow. They know I want to be tied tight, and this rig accomplishes that in spades, so that leaves me little that I can do to resist. None-the-less, when my body attempts resistance and fights back it seems like an added turn on to them and they get more forceful in their actions and commentary. Crazy, but that makes it exciting and fulfilling to me.

In between two of my fucks on the wall, two other guys that I didn’t know took to whipping me with a single tail. Usually, I am striped with this kind of whip. These two seem just focused on whipping my genitals, mainly my cock head. They took turns. The discussion between them seemed focused on how to just barely hit me so that I would flinch but nothing more. Unfortunately, especially for one of them, there was a hard learning curve in improving their skill sets.

I am hit hard, wicket hard, and often, too often. So much so that I am straining at my confinements and screaming out. The pipe restraints don’t budge, and the gag muffles my sound. The tears are mostly hidden by the hood. Lash and lash again lands on my member. I try signaling them to back down by flexing my hand and rapid wiggling of my fingers, but they are so focused on their whip actions they don’t notice.

Thankfully, I have watchful eyes on me. Dr. D steps in and says, “Stop, he’s had enough.”

They stop immediately, and one says to Master D, “Sorry, we got lost in what we were doing.”

The second, concurring, says to him, “Yeah my bad, sorry, really sorry.”

These guys are all Dominants, maybe at different levels and experience, but Doms. Not one said sorry to me, they said it to my current owner. I am still in significant pain, but that realization of my place puts a smile on my face. Both Dr. D and Master D then come up to me.

Master D, in a gentle voice, whispers in my ear, “Sissy, are you OK? Do you need to be let out? I am sorry. They are too...”

That is followed by Dr. D saying with care and maybe a little coaxing, “we won’t let anyone else mess with your cock if you want to stay in the rack, are you Green?”

Green is one of my safe words; it allows the activity to continue. I’m still hurting, but it is subsiding. Dr. D is a good judge of my boundaries. He’s here, he prides himself on helping me find my limits, he makes me dance on the line but backs me down as needed. I trust Dr. D, foolish as that sounds. My current Master seems to be a good guy, too. Sir Michael, my best friend, is also here. I feel safe still. I give a thumbs up and play continues.

The only other torment I took on the pipe rack worth noting was when a party guest pinched off my nipples with the application of tweezer clamps, then pulled the connecting chain taut and twisted it back and forth while someone else ran a Wartenberg multi-head pinwheel over my chest, all happening while I was being fucked in the ass by one of my new friends.

Teamwork. They indicated that they were going to keep it up till I made their friend climax. Selfishly, it was the first time on the rack that I used my learned tricks to help stimulate my rapist. He wasn’t necessarily in a hurry, but now I was, and in time and after many passes of the pinwheel, he did shoot his load in me, safely contained within his condom.

Chapter 16: Rest, Dinner, Ultimate Service

After my ass was taken for the sixth time, I was taken down from the rack, moved over to the large bed, put on my back, secured by cuffs on my wrists and ankles to eye hooks on the sides and told to take a quick nap as I will be on my feet for the next few hours. I am asleep quickly despite having both a tender butt hole and dick head. The nap does refresh.

I am awoken in a way every man likes to be, getting his dick sucked. I am being serviced by the Club’s ‘other sub’ that came from Vegas with the boys. His primary task is to wake me up for dinner, secondary is to stiffen my cock. His tongue and lips felt amazing even with the rawness of my red welt covered shaft and head. Not sure the purpose of making me hard and excited before transport to my meal. I wasn’t given permission to come, and I didn’t, so that wasn’t it. But it sure could have happened, as I said he was good!

Now collared and leashed, hands cuffed behind my back, head in a half mask and still very naked, I’m taken from the dungeon, down two floors, to the kitchen. I’m served an odd meal, but in a much more humane way than typical for me when in servitude. I am allowed to sit at the table, hands re-cuffed in front, provided with silverware, even a napkin.

My meal was placed in front of me by Master D’s partner whose only word to me was ‘eat’. The food is a bowl of warm oatmeal with sliced bananas, an English muffin with orange marmalade and a glass of milk. I’ll learn later why this breakfast cuisine was served as early supper. I was left to myself. Not rushed, I consumed all that was provided, but even alone, still felt self-conscious about my nudity in this very large, chilly kitchen.

I’m done, but I stay where I am as I have received no instructions otherwise. When my masters return, they keep me in the kitchen where Master D and Dr. D change out my bondage. The first thing they do is put me in an adult diaper. Something that sets my mind to wondering. Then my wrists are secured in leather cuffs that are attached to a leather belt around my waist, pulling them tight to my sides. I am also placed in leather ankle cuffs, but for the moment they are not secured to each other or anything else.

A new wide leather collar is also placed around my neck, this one with four rings spaced equally around it. They adjust it so one is in the front and back and one to each of my sides. They attach a leash and I am again on the move.

We exit the kitchen to the stairs with Dr. D leading me. Walking with a diaper on is embarrassing if not strange. I assume we are heading back to the dungeon, but I assumed wrong. We only make it to the second floor. We enter a bedroom and walk over to an open closet. In front of it is a little step stool. I am told to step up and into the closet that has a raised floor, being informed it has been pre-adjusted for my height.

I don’t have to be a genius to realize where I am, this is the shaft I saw under the dungeon bathroom urinal and I know what’s next. And I am instantly horrified by my situation.

“No, please No, I don’t want to do this. Please, please! No! There must be other ways to get your kicks with me. Please don’t make me do this. Please don’t make me a toilet slave, PLEASE!” I plead. But since I didn’t use my safe words, I am ignored by my own contract rules.

“Get in there Sissy and do your time,” I am scolded by Dr. D as I am manhandled up the stool and into the closet. “You know you’ll be punished for that outburst.”

As I stand upright in my new space, my face extends past the ceiling and into the bathroom above. I am looking directly into the eyes of Master D, who, with an unfamiliar partner, is kneeling in front of me.

The two immediately grasp my head and the doors over the opening are slid closed around my neck and latched. Four padlocks are then placed through the rings of my collar and individually locked to steel D-rings welded to the doors, front, back, side and side around my head, positioning my face forward and holding it firm.

The hood is pulled from my head. I can feel my ankles below being locked together. I am effectively secured and I then feel something pressed against my neck, just above the collar, held by Master D’s partner. “That’s the cow prod you feel, I believe you are familiar with it. Now don’t give us any trouble, open your mouth wide or I’ll have him shock you till you do,” I am ordered by Master D. Knowing any resistance will result in pain, great pain, I open wide.

The mouthpiece is inserted as the wide strap is pulled over my head. It is in the shape of an athletic bite guard, formed to sit in front of, over, and behind the teeth. Through the center of the guard extending over the tongue in an oval profile is the open termination of the tube.

The strap is rubber. In front it is tapered to fit just under my nose and extends down to the bottom of my chin. It crosses my cheeks so that it fully encloses my lips, sealing them around the tube.

It is tight. It’s not uncomfortable, it does not gag me. It feels almost like it should be there. I try to blow out through my mouth; it is well sealed. There is a sensation of tackiness in it like glue or something, making the seal even more effective. Purposefully liquid tight.

Breathing through my nose is unrestricted. Thank God. The pressure from the strap is noticeable. I hope that in time that this doesn’t become an issue, like cause a headache or other tension. My hood is put back on.

“There you go Sissy; no one will know you that comes to use you. I know you can do this. Regardless, it’s going to happen. I read how much piss you took on in Vegas. This will be a cake walk. In time you will have to pee, hence the diaper. You are to go; it would be unhealthy to hold in what you have processed. You will be punished if I find a dry diaper when your shift is over. Have fun. I hope this fulfills another of your fantasies. It sure does for me,” are Master D’s final comments.

And he and his buddy walk away. I stand there, trying to get comfortable. Flexing my face. Trying to find the best way to deal with the oval tube in my mouth, shifting my tongue, my cheeks, lips and jaw. It isn’t that bad. The tube and mouthpiece around it were designed for resting in one’s mouth. A rubbery taste, but not unpleasant.

I was expecting immediate use, but that didn’t happen. I wait a long time before anything takes place. The first thing is someone comes up to the urinal, and I hear a sort of clanging noise as something is dumped into the bowl. They leave. It takes a little bit, but it dawns on me, ice. In time, there would be an ongoing drip of water from the melting ice down the tube and into my mouth. Initially, it was even refreshing.

Someone did come in and used the toilet and then took a shower including a douche. None of which I could see, but in a tiled bathroom, sounds transmit well. Someone else came in an used the urinal next to me. I held my breath the whole time he went, praying he didn’t know I was there. He went a lot. I’ve been fortunate so far.

Chapter 17: Ready to Receive, If I Want to or Not

My luck finally ran out. I knew it wouldn’t last forever. I can’t see much from my position; the bottom of the urinal bowl blocks much of my view. Close up I can clearly see feet and legs moving towards me. If they come from the right angle, I can somewhat see a person approaching.

Now, someone is coming towards me and it's Sir Michael. No, don’t tell me my best friend is going to do this to me. Then I focus on this: it isn’t my best friend Mike, it's my Dominant Sir Michael. The person I made the original deal to have me bound and abused. Mistakenly, he believes he is making me happy. This will be my third trip West where I’ve been forced to drink him. I keep coming back. Why am I like this?

He is dressed in an open leather vest and full leather pants. He comes up; slowly unzips. I can’t see, blocked by the bowl, but I am visualizing him pulling out his oversized member, holding it, thinking about it then doing his thing into the bowl.

I heard the stream hit the porcelain and the ice, then a trickling sound. It takes just a moment for his flow to be swallowed by the bowl and discharge down the exit tube and spills into my mouth. I knew it was coming, but I still reacted in shock as it entered my mouth going towards my throat. I have been forced to drink pee before. I know its is best to just let it happen and not think, just swallow it like it’s water and deal with the taste and revolt after you get it down. Especially if there is a quantity.

But there isn’t a large quantity, and the ice has made it easier to take on. He is being decent. He sent down maybe two good squirts before stepping aside to the second urinal to finish. As he moves on, he makes a parting comment of, “You know this doesn’t do anything for me, but if this gets you off, who am I to judge, you sick puppy.”

Drinking piss doesn’t get me off, it's repulsive. This is a harsh twist of my desires, implemented by others to exploit my ‘bound and forced to serve’ fantasy. My mind goes into a circular chant to get me through this: I don’t like drinking pee. I don’t want to drink pee. I’m forced to drink pee; it’s up to them’. At any time, this could turn bad, I’m told this is a big party. My bondage use fantasy becomes wildly out of control reality.

And again, I wait. Now with a bitter taste lingering in my mouth. Bound in a contraption one would think would only be found in a bizarre fictional story. Who would ever build something like this permanently into their home? Well, Master D for one.

The next visitor is also known. It is the submissive mate of Dr. D. He is also in leather, a full open body harness and heavy leather boots. His member is encircled by a chrome ring that is part of the harness. He wears a sub collar too. He comes up, and without fanfare pees. More of a steady stream. More than Sir Michael sent. As I swallow the first gulp, my mouth is already refilling. It takes four swallows before he is done, the fourth flowing slowly.

It still wasn’t a lot, thankfully. It does make me a little queasy in my stomach, though. Again, the ice helps. They must know that. I think I hear him shake his dick as he finishes, maybe it is my imagination. And he leaves. My only solace with this visitor is I know as Dr. D’s sub he has been made to drink much more pee than I ever have or will.

The ice drips are now unpleasantly flavored. The heat of the boys’ urine has accelerated the melting a little. I can hear activity out in the main dungeon. Sounds like multiple groups are having fun. Well, some are having fun, some are definitely suffering. I am glad they all seem to be busy and not taking bathroom breaks.

Again, some time passes before I receive another visit. That’s good as it allows my body to process what I have been forced to drink. My next visit is a pleasant shock. I can see coming toward me a sporty dressed man with a naked girl on a leash. As they get closer, I see he is probably my age, but she is in her mid-twenties. Attractive, petite, small breasted. She wears glasses and has a scholarly look about her. She is restrained with an inch wide chrome collar with matching inch wide chrome wrist and ankle cuffs, all connected with chrome chains, a matching leash is attached to the collar. And she is wearing a full chrome chastity assembly.

She is stood back about three feet from me and positioned so I could see all the way up to her breasts. There he unlocks the small padlock that holds her belt fast. He pulls the metal waist belt apart. I see her adjust her legs wider as he slowly pulls down the assembly so that the evil metal plugs that fill her cunt and ass holes slide out. The chastity belt is then sat on the floor right in front of me as if they want me to gaze at it. The plugs are big and gleaming.

She is brought closer to my urinal and told to squat down on the floor and open her legs wide. She does and doing so exposed her fully shaved pussy to me. It is pink, wet and lovely. She has a small silver ring piercing her clitoral hood that matches similar ring piercings through each of her nipples.

Her master then instructs her to pleasure herself. I can’t see her face to see the reaction, but she does as she is told. First using her fingers, she begins to massage and fondle her outer lips. After a minute or two, she takes her fingers and I think moistens them with her mouth and returns to her cunt, starting to massage deeper, penetrating herself. These actions start to cause quiet murmurings of joy as she proceeds.

A beautiful sexy pussy is being stimulated within two feet of my face and I can’t touch it, can’t lick it. I have a natural uncontrollable desire to fuck it. Live voyeurism. Oh my. I feel my dick get hard. This is cruel. And its wonderful. I forgot for the moment about my predicament. I’m enjoying the show. She seems to be enjoying her self-masturbation, as she has become obviously more wet. She knows I am watching her very private moment, yet she goes on undaunted. I then remember, she is doing what her master ordered.

She is at it a while when she is told to finish with her toy. And she is handed an amply sized natural looking penis vibrator. She uses it with apparent enthusiasm, rubbing it against her clit, the piercing, her pussy lips, and then plunging it deep into her wet cunt time and time again. She does this rotation many times, driving me wild. I can feel my body thrusting forward within my closet as if it was my penis she is holding.

Finally, her master barks out ‘get to your climax’ to which she concentrates on her clit with the vibrator till her whole-body shakes and she collapses to the floor. She is only down a moment when she seems to be jerked back up to her feet by her master.

I am still in my euphoric daze from the show I just enjoyed when I hear her master say, “Now, pee in the bowl.”

She is an obedient submissive and without hesitation she shuffles up to the bowl and straddles it. It takes a moment or two, but she releases her bladder. She is a trickler. When her initial drops reach me, it snaps me back to reality. There is a young woman pissing into my mouth. Her slow sweet, salty and bitter flow is easy to swallow. Mentally, its becoming a burden. My age-old battle of coming too close to a physical interaction with a woman other than my wife. By contract interpretation of my masters, this is allowed as there is no physical touching. But I am just a foot away from the girl who is using me as her personal toilet.

In time I’ll work through this, I always do. The masters will punish me for this interaction I had no control over, and I’ll be good with that as penance for me enjoying what happened. Even my current desire to lick her clean.

Her peeing takes a little time as it comes in tiny spurts. She almost seems like she is enjoying this, knowing another submissive is being abused by her actions. Maybe not, I’ll never know her true feelings of what is happening. A good thing, I guess. She finishes. I watch with glee as her chastity belt is buckled after both plugs are reinserted and they leave. Shame to cover up such a lovely pussy.

I am again left waiting for my next visit; it takes a while. Almost like they want me to dwell on my last guest and the taste she has left me. The ongoing drips from the ice keep her fresh in my mind and tastebuds.

After her, I will come to endure three male users, each making only a small deposit before shifting to the second urinal to finish up. Trapped by the neck in this hellish device, made part of the plumbing, a living septic tank, I have involuntarily serviced any customer who choose to piss here, I’ve tasted their expelled waste, felt used and repulsed by the multiple urine variations, but because of their mercy, I have not had my own system overwhelmed, something that releasing their full bladders down my throat would have caused.

This contraption was not installed for me. The owner put it in long before I got here to satisfy a personal kink. Through practice his friends have learned how to use it without causing harm to their victim. This is entertainment for them. Play that usually includes their own friends, lovers, submissives, people they wish no long-term harm. They have learned how to play hard but nicely. I am grateful, kind of. I still rather not play this game at all.

And so, I am treated with some respect, just enough to keep me healthy. And speaking of health, I remember the guidance given to me at the beginning, pee when I need to go. And after the second of the last three users, I need to go. I have never peed in a diaper. Never worn one since I was a baby. I really don’t want to, but I convince myself to get on with it. Another first, another very weird experience for me. It is warm, wet, then dry, peculiar relieving experience.

Chapter 18: Still Not Done Servicing the Guests

Planned to be my last for the evening is Dr. D. My limit pusher. The person who has subjected me to harsh piss trials before. A Dominant who is into water sports. Who believes it is a major training element for submissives. He then advises that he was disappointed in my pushback when I was taken to the closet and that I should get ready for my punishment.

He then calls his own submissive to come over. I see his long-term mate come into view. They are both in open leather chaps and matching vests, each of them also sporting a leather thong to cover their members. Dr. D’s instruction to his sub is simple, suck his master’s cock and bring him to the brink of cumming.

He is on his knees, doing his master, something I can’t really see well, but the sounds are vivid. He’s good, something I have personally experienced while bound. He gets Dr. D to his breaking point in a few minutes.

“That’s enough, I’ll do the rest,” Dr. D mumbles in a breathless voice. To which he spins around and finishes himself off with his hand, ejaculating into the bowl.

He rests his one hand on the wall as he recuperates. And then he speaks to me, “I’ve been watching most of the evening, you’ve done well. Maybe I should say this rig did well, you had no choice but to take what it received. I love this, what a great effective design. I’ve got to figure out how to fit one into my place. I bet you’d be thrilled with that.”

He continues, “Master D and Sir Michael did ask everyone to just let you live the experience and not overwhelm you with intake. You got plenty of variety, different tastes, boys and girls, just not huge volumes and we even spaced them out. That’s probably why you kept going without using your safe words to interrupt our fun. Well, you know me, I want to push your limits, so that’s about to change. Get ready for a real drink.”

He then stands back straight and begins to piss. It flows down the tube quickly. I start to swallow, and as I do my mouth is already refilling from his strong, steady stream. He seems to be cleaning the bowl with his pee, and it dawns on me he is trying to rinse down the cum he had loaded in the bowl. The pee is cool; there must still be ice in there too.

I swallow again, and the flow keeps coming, another swallow. I need to take a breath, so I must close off my mouth, which causes the incoming flow to back up. I take another gulp and find that I need to get some control now as my mouth and tube are backing up with his abundant discharge. He is now in the final stages where there is a squirt, a pause, a squirt, a pause, a squirt. And then he is done, I guess.

I assume he shook himself dry, as he has now bent down to look me in the eye. He makes a quick survey, shakes the clear drain tube leading to my mouth and says, “You better get drinking; you have my piss and cum backed all the way up the tube. It’s not going away.”

I close my throat, gulp and swallow, and repeat it, close my throat, gulp and swallow. It’s too much, but there is nothing I can do, like he said there is no way to disperse what is in here but to drink it. I continue to take it down in controlled small gulps, so I don’t choke and drown. It is like chugging a gallon jug of water or multiple beers. Something only brainless people do. Lets think this through, I have voluntarily allowed myself to be inescapably bound, then hooked up to an apparatus that allows people I don’t know to piss in my mouth with no control or ability to stop them. Not sure what is covered in the definition of brainless, but this has to fit.

Under Dr. D’s watchful eye, I finish all of the cocktail he left me. Then he asks me to blink once if I want to stay another hour or blink twice to move onto a new adventure. His excessive volume has brought me to the brink of vomiting. I’m tired of standing, the taste in my mouth is strong as Dr. D’s piss and seed were powerful, and I hate this. It is the most degrading, repulsive abuse they put me through, even if I am getting used to it.

But I try to do what a good submissive would do to please his master, I blink only once. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Was I expecting they would still let me out, not this guy, I should know better by now. Honestly, I am only stupid like this when I am planning for or in a play weekend, otherwise I am quite bright and strong. Hard to believe now.

During the next hour, I am visited three more times. The first is a revisit from the young lady. Girls go frequently, but often not a lot of volume. She is still in her metal chastity belt. This time it is not removed, and she must pee through it. Sadly, I can’t see her privates as she pees. I was curious how much her flow was scattered by the iron protector and how wet she got. I handled her easily, her two visits being the easiest of the night. Between her and the next caller I need to take another pee, and I do into my nappy. A long one. I can feel my own warmness. I can also feel the weight of the saturated diaper pulling on me, nothing has dripped out.

The next pee was unremarkable. I had become so tired from standing so long and stressed out from my situation, I barely remember it. It was again a short pee, and his urine was on the light side, not as light as the girls, but it was way more pleasant than Dr. D’s. Well, pleasant isn’t the right description, let’s call it ‘less gross’.

What will be my final pisser ends up being another female submissive. She is brought in by her male master. She is dressed in all white, her stockings, garter, corset, neck choker and wristlets, all lacey and pure. Another young innocent, that is other than her having fully exposed breasts and a shaved pussy both sporting small tattoos, one reflecting ownership by another. Master is dressed all in black, older than her but closer in age than the last couple. They are conversing as they walk toward me.

She asks, “Do I pee directly into his mouth?”

“No, he’s part of the toilet, you just have to pee in the bowl.”

“I sit on him?”

“No. it’s a urinal, just straddle it, you’ll be fine,” he says in a caring yet no nonsense tone of a Dominant coaching his submissive.

She approaches tentatively. I think she is embarrassed. Maybe just shy. Maybe as pure in mind as she is dressed. Probably not, I’m sure she sucks and fucks her master anyway he commands. She may even do his friends. She is cute, attractive, sexy. If my situation at home was different, I’d love to do her. Her body being restrained, or not. Yeah, restrained would be best. Doing a bound young (but legal) pseudo-virgin would be on my fantasy list. My real destiny, however, will be me being the one bound and used by depraved gay men, then sent home to sleep with my unaware loving wife. Oh well, such is life.

This young thing knows she needs to do as she was instructed. She raises up on her toes so she can straddle the bowl without touching the cold porcelain. In a moment or two of concentration, she goes. Much more than my previous female suiter. Her pee is also mild, more sweet than bitter, not at all salty. And it is warm; the ice must be finally gone.

She must have been holding it for a while because her gentle stream keeps coming. It takes three mouth full swallows to take all of her. By the third, she doesn’t seem quite as mild and sweet. It is urine and it is something not meant to be downed. Especially in large quantities. Hers, mine or anybody else’s. Today’s consumption has moved into an unhealthy range; my body may have issues processing it all. I surely regret agreeing to the extra hour.

To divert my mind from the darkening taste and repulsion of making the final swallow, I ponder on why piss play has entered my life. Only a real pervert or deviant would do this. I’m trying to decide who that is, me or the masters forcing me to do it? Probably both, we’ve become a fraternity, working together to satisfy unfathomable sick urges. Originally, they were mine; however, I’ve long lost control over who they belong to by signing the contract.

I do have a moment of amusement. For her to dry her privates without tissue, unlike a male, she must shake her whole body to make her urethra release the final droplets. It was cute. Innocent. Maybe she is as she is dressed, reinforced by her saying ‘sorry’ to me as she steps away. Her master then mumbled something on the order of ‘Do you talk to your toilet at home?’

Chapter 19: Back to the Party

I had a good fifteen minutes to savor the current urine flavor in my mouth before the boys came to end my torment. My release is worked by two teams on two different floors. First, one group pulls off my hood, then my release from the mouthpiece assembly is quickly completed. I couldn’t believe how good it felt with it removed. With attention so focused on what was coursing down the tube, my body didn’t register a complaint about how tight the facepiece gripped my head.

As my ankles are unlocked and separated from below, the collar is unlocked from above so that the doors can be slid away from my neck. The Second-Floor team then assisted me out of the vault. My legs are unstable and weak. I feel bloated and sluggish. My stomach certainly unsettled. My wrists remain secured to my waist. I’m told to open my mouth and chew the three Tums they place on my tongue. Their fruity flavor clashes with the bitter pee taste. A straw is then put into my mouth, and I’m told to suck down a full bottle of water.

When I finished my drink, I’m commanded to pee one more time into the diaper. That was tough enough to accomplish while standing there in the group, but the bastards then pulled off the saturated pad and placed it over my head, making it my new disguising hood. I am then first marched down to and around the first floor Grand Room where many are socializing, then back up to the playroom, being paraded past all the congregated guests as my escorts say repeatedly, ‘Make way for the Toilet Sissy Boy’.

I have a wet diaper on my head that limits much of my vision, but I can still see people turning their heads especially as we enter the dungeon. And I hear the laughing and mocking at my expense. Humiliation play is not part of any of my fantasies, and this does bother me. I know it is all part of the game. I know I can rationalize it away. But it still disturbs me.

There is a fairly large crowd now assembled in the playroom. It’s a party. Some are using the dungeon as intended; most are socializing in small clusters. My masters make a point of walking me around, introducing me to each of the groups as ‘Sissy’, just back from bathroom piss duty and I am here with my bound body to fulfill their sexual needs.

Outfits vary from heavy leather to simple casual evening dress. I see no food tables, but some guests have drinks and snacks. That tells me that while the party is throughout the home, those in the playroom are here to play or to watch the show. Not all, but most are here as couples. A lot of Gay Dom/sub couples. Some are more obvious than others. However, there are a couple of straight Dom/subs too, male/female. Both that I see, the male is the Dom. Of course, I have no real idea of what is scattered throughout the house, my vision was somewhat obscured when on tour.

I had feared that I was a featured component of the entertainment. The introduction confirms it. I’m glad the diaper is hiding my identity, but I much prefer my hood back. I am moved over to the back wall where the wall mounted Sybian is located. There they unlock my wrists from the belt, the belt is removed, but the cuffs stay on my wrists, A chain about twelve inches long secures them back together in front of me. The ankle cuffs receive similar treatment. And my diaper is replaced with a full hood again with open eyes and mouth.

They finish by putting the electric dog collar back on. I’m not sure why they feel the need to test it, but Dr. D does. It works, my body spasms and my knees buckle. They grasp me and I don’t fall.

“What a wimp, Sissy. That was only on ‘three’. You know it goes to ‘ten’. Want to try that?” states Dr. D. I just let my head hang. They are not looking for a reply, I hope. While I know I must serve anyone here at the party, that’s contractual, I feel like I am under the control of Master D, Dr. D, and Sir Michael all at once. That’s tough mentally as much as it is physically.

I am then sat down in a folding chair looking at the wall set-up. Once there, a group of three tormenters begin to ice down my cock and balls till my shaft shrinks to nearly nothing and my balls recede into my groin. A very small locking heavy metal chastity cage with a dastardly removable urethral sound is shown to me by Master D and then they capture and cage my shriveled penis. Even with my average cock, getting this on is challenging. Mercifully, they squirt in some lube before finishing their work with the insertion of the sound.

My dick is very uncomfortable. I know if I get excited it will be much worse. And this speculation is tested immediately. This time Sir Michael takes the lead.

“I want to introduce you to a business friend of mine and his slave wife,” says Sir Michael.

It is the third male/female couple I have interacted with today. Encounters with women always play psychological games with me. That is usually my master’s intent. Payback for this straight guy playing in the gay world.

I’m not sure where these middle-aged men find women in their twenties to be their bondage sex slaves, but here is another. This one is just like the previous two, very nice-looking. This one an All-American-Girl look that conflicts with her costume. She even looks familiar to me. It makes me nervous; I can’t place how I may know her.

She has been outfitted all in black patent leather with full length stiletto boots, the heels not too high, tightly laced wired corset squeezing her waist and pushing up her fully exposed lovely breasts, collar with leash, cap, and wrist and ankle cuffs. Her nipples and her clit are pierced and adorned with matching silver rings. Her restraints each similarly connected to each other like the ones I wear. And she has ponytails, no makeup and the obligatory BDSM shaved pussy. Hot, very hot. My kind of girl. My dick is already stirring and its cage is resisting.

Sir Michael addresses me. My friend wants you to torture his slut’s pussy with the Sybian. He has his reasons and we owe him. You will lube the dildo. You will help secure her to the wall. You will operate the controls. You will ride her up and down till she has had climax after climax. He has instructed that he wants her screaming, her eyes rolling back and her body shaking until she collapses. This is to be done by your hand and as such you will clean up any mess she makes. You won’t ever physically touch her, so I am good with this, I don’t care if you are or not. Finally, if we don’t see her constantly bouncing between ecstasy and utter torment, Master D will shock you into submission, got it?”

I nod begrudgingly, shocked at what he demanded of me, and alarmed at the forceful yet gleeful tone in which it was said. He’s getting into his role again.

Chapter 20: Sybian Ride

I am handed a small tub of coconut butter to use as lube, and I coat the Sybian dildo and vibration pad till both are white and glistening. The chains have been removed from her cuffs and replaced with lengths of rope. Two other men I don’t know lift her up and hold her over the Sybian saddle, as Master D and another hold her legs in a spread open position. Her Dom lubes her cunt, inside and out. He spreads her lips as the team lowers her onto the rubber dick that will soon spin deep within her.

She squirms a little, trying to get comfortable as her arms are pulled upward and wide. I have been stood up and moved to one side of her. They give me the rope to her right cuff.

“Tie her off tight, Sissy,” I am told.

I begin the task reluctantly, but as I get into it, I find myself getting aroused and enthusiastic. I use a taut-line hitch, a knot I know well, throwing in an extra two overhand loops to make this reliable tensioning knot even stronger. I adjust the rope with the hitch to pull out any slack, and as I do, I find myself pulling her arm extremely taut. My adrenaline is flowing. Then with malicious intent I add two half hitches at the end so it can’t slip or fail.

“Now, do the other, just like that,” I’m ordered.

I scoot around her and tie off the second arm, concerned at how much I am involved and how much I’m enjoying it. I try to avoid making eye contact with her. I am required to do the same for each leg. The resulting ties have placed her in an upright very stretched spread-eagle position, with the only thing holding her body weight is the Sybian pressed against her pussy.

If you are not familiar with a Sybian, it is designed to stimulate the clitoral and vagina with intense pleasure and beyond. It has a large upside-down U-shaped body that houses strong electric motors. These drive the vibration and thrusting motions of the nubbed and textured saddle and the changeable dildos. When played with by a user who self-adjusts the control device module, while squatting down on it with their knees and feet resting on the floor, they can bring themselves to ultimate pleasure and orgasm riding the amazing toy.

However, when a woman is bound to it as this slave now is, it will be absolute torment of her cunt, her body, and her mind. I was forced to witness it live before while bound back in Vegas. This time I have played a much more active role in the team binding her. It was my knot skills that have made it impossible for her to escape the Sybian.

And so, my mind kicks in with guilt. Not for the young lady, nor for the boys’ planned abuse of her. I can convince myself that she wants this, at least for the moment. She wouldn’t be here unless she really sought to be sexually exploited and used. She’s a BDSM bondage slut for sure. Yes, she deserves this. At least my heart and mind want to believe that. Which is impossible for me, I really am not misogynistic, quite the opposite.

It’s my marital guilt complex I’m dealing with. I may not have touched her physically, but I know the ties are mine. I know how exhilarating it was to me as I pulled the ropes taut and finished them off with knots that would hold her that way for the duration. I felt my dick try to expand; even though it couldn’t. So, it is the marriage remorseful element playing in my head, soon to get worse as I haven’t even begun to manipulate her ride.

I am sent back to my chair and handed the controller. It has two on/off switches and two adjustable rheostat knobs. One knob and switch controls the dildo rotation speed, the other the vibration of the saddle pad. Both are independent and when properly set to a woman’s liking can make her a very happy girl. That won’t happen.

“Get to it,” I am told, as a quick lite shock hits my neck.

OK, It’s her or me. With the tingling still resonating from the collar, it will be her. Not only a decision I can live with, but it’s also one I am about to thoroughly enjoy.

I start with the vibration on low. She has an immediate reaction and smiles. The smile won’t last long. She adjusts herself the little she can as I start the rotation. I let her sit for a minute and then turn both elements up a bit. Still very pleasurable for her. And for me too. She looked hot before, now spread wide, tied to the wall by my doing, being vibrated by me, I am having an incredible, sexually exhilarating time. This is so much more than hot. And the guilt feelings rear their ugly head again. My aroused sexual desires conflict me. I know this is wrong on so many levels.

Another minute passes and I nudge up the intensity of both elements. She is still enjoying herself. A lot now.

I hear her murmuring, “Yes, Yes, Yes.”

Again, up a little. I think we have hit her sweet spot. She starts to vibrate a little, a climax seems to be building. I let her enjoy it for a moment or two.

I hear from Master, “Take her up Sissy.”

Without hesitation, I move both controls up another notch. This pushes her to the climax she was working at. She is in bliss. And I know this isn’t acceptable to my Masters, so up again it goes. You can tell she is not happy. It is interrupting her orgasm, throwing it off the track. Her body reacts with shakes.

A minute later, up again. I hear her first plead, “No, please turn it down.” My immediate reaction is to do the opposite, and both knobs are again adjusted upward. You can hear the Sybian roar as does she in response. I am kicking myself for enjoying this so much, but I keep performing as I was instructed. I put my anguished mental thoughts aside, and dwell on just my animal instincts, with my dick trying so hard to become erect. The cage just won’t allow it. I know I would be rock hard now otherwise.

I send her higher, this time only with the vibration. The Sybian gets louder and so does her protests. “Please no, please, no, no, no, no, please. Pretty pleassssse, my pussy can’t take this, pleassssssssse” she is screaming as her body is spasming and jumping around, tears cascading down her face. I look at my group of masters who are all gleefully standing there. Her own master gives me a turn it up again signal. I do as the crowd watching grows.

She is pulling for all she is worth against the ropes; they surrender no liberation. Her groin shifts back and forth, grinding across the knobbed pad, seeking any kind of relief from the torment. I respond by twisting both knobs further around. She is sweating, drooling, tears running nonstop down her face. She is making animalistic noises, grunting, huffing, sometimes they are gurgling, guttural sounds. Her breathing is so labored she has trouble catching her breath. My damsel in distress begins to concentrate her intense look directly at me, with grim, pleading eyes as she is begging me to back it down.

Now as I watch her, I’m sure I’ve seen these eyes before. I try hard to recall. Is she? Maybe. Yes, I think she may be the same girl forced to ride a Sybian in front of me on my second trip to the Vegas dungeon (reference, my journal “A Risky Return to Sin City). I point to my neck collar and turn the vibration knob up again, hoping she understands. I will be no hero for her today, old friend or not.

Her dancing on the machine has drawn quite an audience. Each time I turn it up, they cheer. Her begging and pleading were first directed at her master, then me. Now its God. “Oh God, please stop this, God please, please don’t make me cum anymore, don’t make me cum, oh, oh, please don’t make me cum anymore, no more, no more, no more, I can’t stand it, God please, I beg you, please! God forgive me. God I’m a slut, a filthy cum sucking slut, I’ll be your slut, I’ll suck your holy dick and ass, anything, please God just stop this, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, please God, please, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t, can’t, I can’t go on anymore. Please.”

My response, one more turn. Then I hear her scream out, “Oh no, I’m going to pee myself, please stop this, don’t make me pee in front of everyone,” she begs.

With urgency I am ordered by Dr. D in his loud, no nonsense, get it done now voice, “Sissy, get down under her, pull off your hood and open your mouth wide. If she pees herself, you are to lap up what she spills from down below,”

I set the controller down without turning it off and I lay down directly under the Sybian. She has already started to uncontrollably piss herself. Urine is dripping down the sides of the toy and hitting me in the face and shoulders. I do my best to capture what I can with my mouth and tongue, but it is coming down everywhere. My face, hair and neck are all getting drops of golden rain from above.

And for the fourth time today I am consuming a woman’s pee. Four times from three different women. What’s wrong with me? This is so immoral, isn’t it? I tell myself to concentrate on the illusion, on the fact that I’m being forced, on the restraints, the shock collar, but it is the beautiful pussy that I know is dancing above me that captures me….

She has gotten silent, but like her bladder, she has no control over her body which continues to spasm, twist and bounce. The view from below is different from the chair, not as good, but still exciting. She must have emptied herself as the drips have subsided. I am ordered back to my chair and my hood put back on over my damp hair and face with the comment that I can come back and clean up the floor later.

I have been free up to now to make her Sybian adjustments on my own, but now I am getting requests from the peanut gallery assembled behind me. I know I must listen and act on the voices. Mostly it is to run her up and down. Sometimes it is to turn it off, wait a moment or two for her to let her body relax and as soon as it does, turn it back on at maximum intensity.

I do as the boys call out. It is driving her insane. Her body is completely out of her control and is failing her. She is gasping for breath. Her eyes shift from dire to almost blank. Her violent shaking changes to a steady trembling, her screaming and pleading are now just moaning and whimpering.

I’m not told to stop, so I keep answering the requests. I am human. Her plight is getting to me. I want to stop, take her down and hold her tight. But I dare not do anything but keep it up. Her own master is here, watching, enjoying the torture of his slave. He’ll know when she has reached her absolute limit, I hope. I’m sure they have safe words.

I take her up on a slow ride all the way up to the maximum. She is there about thirty seconds, her body back to intense shuddering, when her eyes roll back and she goes limp in her restraints.

“That’s good, you can shut her down, she’s had enough for today,” says both Dr. D and her own master in similar words almost simultaneously. I act instantly; the unit is off. She is left to limply hang there for a good five minutes, while the audience applauds loudly, the silent Sybian saddle holding her still penetrated pussy tight. She is humming quietly to herself. Her eyes are closed. She has a smile.

I, on the other hand, am ordered to ‘get down there and clean up that mess’. It’s not much. Most fell on me and has almost dried. There are three, make that four, small puddles. I make quick work of them while some of the boys undo the knots I had tied that held her tight. She is taken down. A naked limp ragdoll. For a moment she must straddle me, whereas I look up and can view her completely ravaged cunt. It is red, raw and very wet. And beautiful.

She is exhausted and has no strength to hold herself up. The boys help her walk away. As she does, I hear her exclaim softly, but repeatedly, “Thank you, thank you. That was amazing. That was the best. Thank you…”

I am directed to the Sybian penetration attachment still proudly standing upright and told to clean it off with my mouth. I am so dancing on my mental edge. I am licking and sucking clean a dildo that was just in the pussy of a woman who is not my wife. It is well loaded with the abusive orgasms she endured time and time again and I am told this is morally fine. The dick has essence of her womanhood, but that is equally countered with the taste of the coconut lube, regardless, I am conflicted.

When finished I am moved over to the far opposite side of the playroom, a fair distance, this is a large room. They have moved the pegging bench over here. It faces a very large wall mounted LCD TV. It must be an 85 inch. My cuffs are removed, told to mount the bench and I am strapped down tight.

Master D then shows me something and asks, “Do you know what this is? Ever used one?” I’m not familiar with it and shake my head no. He then says, “It’s called the Gobstopper. It’s a new style of open mouth spreader clam gag. It came from the European Bondage scene. I have found it very effective. It makes access easy for the Tops as there is nothing outside to be in the way. See these top and bottom clams, they fix behind the teeth and when I turn these wingnut knobs, it will spread your jaws wide. It works slick. Open wide, and I’ll show you. See, I just screw the claws apart and your mouth opens as wide as I like. The gag’s not going anywhere without me loosening the screws.”

He’s right, my mouth is wide open, and I cannot close it and I cannot dislodge the device. Tight clean fit. The clams are plastic coated, it’s not uncomfortable, at least not right now. I start to drool. This is also not a demonstration; he has meant for it to stay in my mouth for the foreseeable future. Thank goodness he didn’t screw it too far open. I wonder what will be next.

Chapter 21: No, This Doesn’t Make Me a Cuckold

Master D then announces to me, “We have a treat for you. We are going to make one of your biggest fantasies come true. A sissy like you can’t satisfy his hot wife. You know it, we know it and she lives it. You always selfishly cared about your own wants, but never hers. You never asked, never tried. You also have subconsciously known she’d like nothing more than to be fucked by real men with real cocks that can overfill all her holes. Something you have failed at time and time again. Sir Michael recognized her needs. You know they talk all the time. He extended her an offer. I’ve never seen a woman leap at a chance so fast.”

“She’s here in the bedroom behind me. She knows what you’ve been up to out West. She doesn’t seem to be very happy about it. Sir Michael asked her what her needs and wants were and she shared them. It is fun to see someone that’s been deprived of sexual satisfaction for so long, jump right in and be willing to try something that she herself would never in her wildest fantasies believe possible. So just as your best friend Mike has turned your fantasies into reality, we are making hers come true, here and now.

“She had a few requests. One, that you had to be there bound and forced to watch and unable to stop it. Two, you were to see what you haven’t been ever able to do, satisfy her, as real men can. Three, she wants everybody here to watch you squirm, scream and suffer while still making the setting intimate for her, considering she may be a little nervous the first time she is done right. That last one would take some thought to deliver. And yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have pissed her off.”

My first reaction, that this is another show they are putting on for me. I’ll play along, make this fun, enjoy their effort. If in it they sexually abuse me, well they were going to do that anyhow, so go with the flow. But some of what he says rings true and that he says my wife is here, as farfetched as that sounds, even at a one percent chance, makes me nervous and concerned. And that quickly, I begin to get sucked in.

He goes on to tell me that logistics became a problem, but they feel they had a good solution. He tells me my buddy, Sir Michael thought it would be fun for him to take you up the ass as you watch. Everyone’s first choice would be to have me in the room too, bound to the bench, up close to the bed action, but it is a small room to provide for her intimacy request. It just wouldn’t be possible to do both. So, since we were going to stream it anyway for the other guests here to watch as she wanted, they would just set me up outside the room to watch and be available for use at the same time. He adds that I’m not to worry as I will still get to interact with the players up close and personal.

The monitor comes alive. On screen I see a covered mattress and boxspring on a bed frame with no head and tail boards. There is a pile of pillows nestled on the bed. And resting against the bed naked is my wife. Her legs are spread wide, and her hand is massaging her clit. She is smiling and excited. She is staring right at me. I sense a small group is starting to assemble behind me as I hear someone utter ‘nice body’.

No way. Can’t be. But it is her. She continues her self-stimulation for at least a minute when into the view comes a man. Oh, shit! It’s Dr. D. He is dressed in jeans and has a partial leather chest harness on. He comes up to the edge of the bed. My wife scoots up to him, passionately rubs her hand across his chest, massaging his pecs. She moves in and begins licking his nipples.

As she does her hands move down to his crotch, and she rubs the bulge. She then with skill, unzips his pants, reaches in and maneuvers his cock out. Without hesitation, she bends further down and begins to suck him. She uses one hand to stroke his now bulging shaft as she concentrates on tonguing and sucking the head. Then it’s onto swallowing all that protrudes his pants, bobbing up and down his shaft.

She pauses after a good three to four minutes, using her break to reach up and unbuckle his belt, dropping his pants down. He kicks off his sandals and steps out of his pants. Other than his harness he is bare like her.

She goes back to giving him a blow job, as good as any she has given me. She is amazing at that task. I find myself straining at my restraints.

NO, NO, NO, this can’t be her. It’s her face. It’s her. NO WAY. They have done this to me before. Back when Dr. D buried me as a test in his backyard, he and the boys had a video created where a recorded pretend hanging of me that ended positively was transformed to a scene where I was hung from a rope by the neck, swung by it as I strangled till I finally died with my corpse then abused. (See “Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude’) That must be it, this is another AI modified recording. It must be. But damn, it seems so real, it looks just like her, it’s not just her head stuck on some random female body, everything about it looks like her.

The action between them continues. He pulls himself from her mouth and pushes her backwards. He gets onto the bed, spreads her legs, climbs in between them and presses his dick head against her cunt lips. With a swift and hard thrust he pierces her, driving her back into her pillows. He then commences a punishing rape of her pussy. But it’s not a rape, she is welcoming this, enjoying the ruthlessness of his thrusts, going so far as to wrap her legs around him so she can ride him better.

I probably would have shot my load in her by now. It’s a pussy, he’s gay, that helps his longevity before climax, I guess. He flips her over effortlessly, setting her up into a doggy position, and then it’s on to fucking her that way. He has a firm grip on her hips. She lurches forward with each thrust and then is pulled back with each retraction. Full, long strokes. I’m impressed. I’m also still convinced this is not really my wife.

Real or not, I shamelessly must admit, this is starting to get me hot. Disgracefully I must confess that I may have had a fantasy or two, of me being forced to watch my wife get fucked by other men, maybe not, I can’t recall right now, but hell, this is titillating and I am physically getting aroused. My still caged dick screaming to escape as I continue to struggle against my bench restraints.

He does her this way for a while. She seems to be enjoying herself based on her body reactions. There is another hole though and he’s not going to let it be neglected. With hardly a pause, he spits onto her butt hole, then plows into her rectum, without his firm hip grip, she’d have collapsed into her pillows. You can tell she is hurting, but she accepts what her big man is giving her.

Chapter 22: Next Up

He works her butt hole, enjoying its firm grip on his dick when into the screen frame appears another stud. I recognize him as another one of the masters of the Common Bonds Club. He is in fact one of the people who came on this trip. Is this real, being streamed from the bedroom in front of me? NO, NO. No way. This is not real; this can’t be my wife. I know how she feels about me. This is again just a hoax to get my goat. Be it a very well-produced one.

The new master strips down and climbs up on the bed and positions himself so his cock is at her mouth. Without delay, but with a smile, her mouth opens wide. She needs her arms to stay in the doggy position, so her new playmate acts, sliding his member past her open lips which she closes around the shaft so that the thrusting action coming from her butt fucking can provide the motion needed to pleasure him.

Dr. D picks up his pace; he looks like he wants to cum. And cum he does, loading her butt. He withdrawals and exits the screen. In a matter of seconds, he is now approaching me coming out from the bedroom door just beside the TV screen and says, “OK Sissy, clean my cum and your bitch’s shit off my dick.” With me still locked to the bench and my mouth held open by the Gobstopper it is solely up to him if I’m going to taste what he just described. He was spot on; he is certainly coated. Is this really his cum and her waste? No way, they are playing with me. It’s a well-designed and produced game, but still just a game. It must be.

He doesn’t stay long, uttering something on the order of he doesn’t want to block my view. Now flying solo, the second master doing her, flips her over, bends her legs over her head opening up her snatch for me to clearly see, for everybody to see that is watching, a growing crowd, and prepares to mount her.

He is smaller than Dr. D but bigger than me. He strokes it to make it hard as her cunt isn’t a natural arousal stimulus for him. His hand does its job, and his rigidness will remain as her pussy is perfectly designed to cause a climax to any cock. And her masterful skills in using it will still stimulate even the dead. Wait a minute, this isn’t my wife, who knows how good this imposter’s vagina technique is. Then again, by his expression, it must be pretty good. It just isn’t my wife.

Convinced and confident of that, I allow myself to be aroused by the action, again controlled by the cage. And that it does look like my wife adds weird taboo excitement to these feelings. Yeah, maybe I did have a ‘forced to watch’ fantasy of her being fucked in my extensive list of fantasies. Just not one that I would ever want to become real. Never.

My attention of the screen is then interrupted as I feel the distinct feel of lube been applied to my rear hole. It is followed by a two-finger penetration, then three, followed by a thumb pulling and stretching me. A pause, then the feel of a dick head at the hole. It is slowly pushed in. I know the technique; this is Sir Michael’s huge cock. If nothing else, they are sticking to the script. If this is not a story, my best friend is fucking me as my wife is being fuck by others and there is nothing, nothing I can do about it. My confidence is rattled again, no, this must be fake, keep the faith.

“Better get use to this, looks like for now on, I’ll be your fuck partner. She’s having the time of her life in there. Just look at her face. I should have done this for her years ago. Doesn’t matter if you're enjoying this, with what I got on you, you’ll be servicing me if you like it or not,” he says while he pumps in and out of me, brutalizing my already sore hole with his oversized cock. Nothing I can do but let him screw me, so I returned my attention to the screen hoping to find some concrete evidence that this is not my wife, it is an illusion.

While my ass is being raped, I see her current suitor is leaving her backside alone, working only her box to bring him to orgasm, filling whoever this is with his cum. He collapses on her, before giving her a few more final thrusts, withdrawing and leaving her on the bed by herself.

The door again opens and out comes Master Two while I watch my wife putting her fingers into her cunt, then licking them clean. Now in front of me and without saying anything, his wet cock is in my mouth. He uses his own hand to drag it against the edges of my lips, cleaning himself. I am just his towel wipe and waste can. He must have cummed a lot or has an absorbent dick, as I now have a noticeable coating on my lips and tongue. This is so real.

As I clean him, he talks to Sir Michael, saying, “I really haven’t done many girls in my life, but this slut was good, damn good. I’d waste another load or two on her. Hope I get another chance. Thanks for getting her out here. I feel bad for our friend, but I guess will see a lot more of him now.”

Without ever slowing his ass fucking down, he replies. “We’ll have to see, he is so wrapped tight around that business of his, he might not see the light. He’s got enough cash, even if she gets half, he could move full time into the life if he wanted to. You listening Bitch?”

I hope he’s being a great actor; he sounded real. I shift my attention back on the screen if nothing more than to distract myself from these two. She wasn’t by herself long. In comes her third lover. It is another of the masters from the Club that came to San Francisco for the weekend. He too is naked other than a leather chest harness. He orders her off the bed and to her knees. He wants quality sucking and she delivers. This woman can deepthroat, but so can my wife. I still haven’t gotten undeniable proof that this is her or not. I just know that it’s not. But God, it is her face.

And the body. I know her body. This is so close. I try to convince myself that the boobs are wrong, that the vagina is different, her height is not right. But no matter what I do to persuade myself otherwise, this is an identical, perfect match. It must be her. Please don’t let it be her, if it is, my Camelot life is over.

Sir Michael planned all along to take my butt for his ultimate pleasure and he does, climaxing hard, filling me with his sperm. I don’t even get a ‘thanks buddy’, just a ‘clean me good’ as he shoves his now limp dick into my mouth, followed by ‘you got others who want you’ and he left. It wasn’t long before I had another suiter. This one felt the need to constantly comment on the screen, my wife, my failures and that all I was good for was what he was doing to me. And I have no idea who he was, a guest I assume as he wore a rubber.

Those pricks, this is exactly the kind of tortuous mind games that they like to put me through. Anyone can eventually learn to accept the physical pain of the whip, the monotony and fatigue of being bound for hours upon hours, but mental play, this is so hard, it destroys your core. Beware BDSM has many facets. They make me enjoy and suffer them all.

And while part of my brain is stressed, another part is closing in on euphoria. What I am forced to watch, unable to escape, is unbelievably exciting because it is so taboo and morally wrenching. So sexually exhilarating and wrong. I should be furious, not stimulated.

Am I really a cuckold deep inside my psyche? No, that is ridiculous. This is not who either of us are in our real world. I believe that with all my being. She would never want this, and without a doubt I don’t want anyone to ever touch her. I’m infuriated that all those around me are googling her and making insensitive comments. The normal me would be punching them all out. While the boys turn most of my BDSM fantasies into reality for a weekend, they also like to play with me, that’s all this is.

The action, though, is still going strong on screen. She is still being deep-throated. Their position is to the side so you can see it all. Seems too that all he wants is the blow job. And unlike porn films where the guy has to constantly stroke his dick with his hand to shoot his load, she brings him to climax with her lips, tongue, hand stroking and ball massaging.

He pushes in deep as he finally ejaculates, and she takes it all. You see him weaken in his stance, enjoying the moment, pulling her head tight to him and keeping her there for a bit before he releases and pulls free. She then turns to me, opening her mouth to proudly show me her loaded tongue before making a final swallow. My wife never lets me cum in her mouth, let alone swallow, finds it repulsive and nauseating. She has never done it for me, not once. Has it always been just me or is this truly someone else on screen?

And around the corner he comes to me. He strokes his dick while his head rests just inside my mouth as he coaxes his last few drops of semen from his placid and tired cock. I offer no resistance; there isn’t anything I could do but twist my neck away and that would have severe consequences.

Then there is a third behind me. He, like the last one, wears a condom. He will eventually take my butt and cum in me filling his rubber, but first he goes to town on my butt cheeks with a leather paddle. He’s no lightweight nor shy as he plummets my cheeks with blows, the crowd counting out the whacks, ultimately ten on each side. And as he smacks and fucks my ass, he laments about what a cuckhold I am, worthless other than as a cocksucker and fuck hole for real men.

There will be two more visitors that she will take on, they being the other Doms here from the Club. And she takes them on together, a three-way. They too are sporting leather harnesses, each different yet similar in style. They get right to it. She is back on the floor on her knees, one to each side. She sucks on one then spins to suck the other and back again. It doesn’t go on for long. They are there to fuck her two lower holes. Together.

One of the masters lies down on the bed and gets her to mount him. He penetrates her pussy and then pulls her down onto her chest making her ass available. It is them taken by the other. They do their best to fuck her two holes this way, but it is not effective. Looks awkward. Fact is it’s not something they get to do in their world. They both pull out and reposition her so that she is on her stomach, with her face down on the dick sucking the one and the other laying on top of her doing her ass.

Now it must be one on one pussy time, as the ass fucker spins her over and puts her legs above her head. His friend steps off for a moment. She is then screwed in earnest till he fills her with his spunk. After a short rest from his thrusts, he yields to his friend and comes looking for me. His dick like the others tastes like cum, pussy mucus, lube, and maybe some filth. I licked him clean, more as a diversion for me than anything else.

The final fucking of my ‘wife’ is just like the last. I get to watch it as a forth suiter takes me from behind. I almost don’t even notice at this point. As my wife’s playmate leaves after making his deposit, she pets her tired, stretched and well used cunt as she stares out towards me with a subtle smirk, followed by a look of disgust directed I guess at me. The crowd is cheering and applauding and chastising me with more demeaning cuckhold and sissy banter, as another takes my ass on, this one rimming it.

No time to ponder that, there is a cum covered cock from her last suitor now in my mouth. It’s his words uttered as I suck him clean that is now center stage in my mind, making this seem back within the realm of possibility again, “You better hope she took her birth control Sissy. If not, with all the cum we just put in her cunt, you could be raising ten gay babies. You’ll have to raise them, you don’t know who any of us are. Neither does your slutty whore. Better pick up a pregnancy test on your way home, if you still have one to go back to.”

The mind is at it again. No, no, stop these ridiculous thoughts. That was not my wife, period. I prayed this was simply a fantasy concept acted out by the boys. Something I never would want for real. But, wow, as a fantasy it sure was arousing, stimulating, erotic. Unthinkable acts sometimes are. Please God, make it only a horrible fantasy, a mind blowing hot, horrible fantasy...

Chapter 23: Off to Bed

The screen goes blank. Nothing more is said to me. No explanation offered. My gag is mercifully removed, being in way too long. I am given another twenty or so unexpected hard hits to my rump by a leather paddle. I can feel the heat, and I know they are rose colored red.

After the unexpected paddling, I’m unstrapped and stood up, wrists handcuffed behind my back. More gently than I expected, the urethral sound is extracted, cage unlocked and my cock given its freedom. I am then taken by Master D’s sub to the toilet and told to pee. There is someone else standing in the vault, ready to receive me, forever to remain anonymous.

Having unavailable hands, he holds my dick as I try to go standing. So hard to do as shy bladder syndrome kicks in. In time I go, it burns from irritation caused by the sound. He shakes me off and then he brings me to the bondage bed. There my handcuffs are removed, and I am told to lie down. My feet are secured by leather cuffs to the foot board, my wrists to the side rails. A blindfold is placed over my eyes and earmuffs playing music over my ears.

Master D is now bedside. Raising the earmuffs off one ear he says, “The blindfold and headphones are to help you get some sleep. There will likely be other activities here in my playroom overnight. You have a very, very busy day tomorrow. It’s the whole reason I rented you, so I want you to rest. Do not waste time fretting that your last adventure was the end of your life and marriage back home. It wasn’t.”

“So far, you’ve been a hell of a bargain at one dollar. Hope that holds true for the rest of the weekend,” is his final comment. And off he goes.

I say to myself, thank you Lord for answering my prayers. I’m sure his statement to not fret is his confirmation that what just happened was contrived. How it was produced and her seeming so real is beyond me.

Although I’m exhausted, I don’t fall asleep right away. So many events of the day to ponder, to commit to long term memory so I can complete my journal entries in the morning. That last game with my wife still spinning in my head. And in the morning, what is it he is going to do with me. All weekend long there has been a buzz about tomorrow. I’m not sure when, but I eventually drift off.

I am disturbed a couple of times during the night. The cage below my bed is opened and someone’s sub is placed in there for the night. Whoever this is, he doesn’t bother my sleep. Someone else was brought in, bound to one of the pieces of furniture, whipped, fucked and then taken back out again. It woke me, but there were no screams, the sub was well trained from what I could hear through the earmuffs.

From my own self-bondage play at night when my wife is away, I have trained myself to be able to sleep when bound as I am. I can sleep even when more severely self-restricted. I get some sound sleep once I have cleared my nagging thoughts.

Chapter 24: Sunday Morning Preparations

For the most part, amazingly, I slept restfully and dream free. I’m released from my bed bondage. Sent on my way in relative freedom to complete my journal, shower and cleanse, brush teeth, shave, etc. I am told to put the loose leather full hood back on after I’m done with my shower/shave and teeth to preserve my required anonymity.

I did share the dungeon overnight with others. It seems like someone spent the night in the pillory or they were put in before they got me up. The sling also seemed to be used as a bed, its occupant still bound to it. And the metal bed next to me is still being used, its dweller has his butt electrified and that is still causing him to dance every five or so minutes. I’m sure he didn’t get much sleep.

In the bathroom, the first thing I did was check the urinal. It was unmanned. My stomach is still a little uneasy. I had been given plenty of water afterwards, along with crackers, yogurt and Tums. All which helped battle the unnatural urine in my digestive system. I am looking forward to breakfast.

I am to eat in the playroom. Master D’s sub brings the meal to me as I work on the computer, writing in my diary. It is again a blueberry/spinach smoothy. This time it is served with a short stack with maple syrup and a banana. He tells me the selection is to help process what I consumed yesterday. He also sets down a bottle of water saying it is for my meds and further flushing of my kidneys. Knowing he provided the same services as I did and this is his dungeon, I have no doubt that he knows what he was talking about. I feel odd interacting with him knowing my urine has been run through him. He doesn’t seem bothered at all.

Activities and people are increasing in the room. Some are making use of the furniture and toys, others the bathroom. People are changing clothes, mostly into leatherware. All those milling about and chatting seem to be men. The M/f couples are gone as far as I can tell. There is an air of excitement to it all. For the most part, I am left alone at my table, although a few make a point of coming by to tell me how much they enjoyed my show last night. Some sarcastically say that if they were straight, they’d be happy to do my wife in front of me. One added that since he was not, he would be happy to do me and could he have my number.

I finished up my work. I still don’t know what my next use will be. Master D strolls over and says, “Let’s get you dressed. No one is using the back bedroom; we can go in there.” I was expecting just the two of us to go, but his sub and Dr. D accompany us. His sub brings my new apparel with him and a pair of boots.

It doesn’t take long. I end up in an outfit I don’t understand. I figure it is inappropriate for a BDSM sub to ask the purpose, so I don’t. They started by putting me in pink stockings with elastic band thighs to hold them up.

Shocking, next they put me in a stunning pink ballet tutu with a pancake style skirt that I’m told has 9 layers of stiff tulle. It extends from my waist outward a good eighteen inches. The bodice (the body part of the outfit) goes from my waist to my lower chest, below my pecs leaving my nipples and breasts uncovered. There is no crotch, my privates are exposed beneath the pancake. I’m told it was custom sewed for me. Not sure how they know my exact measurements, but this fits perfectly.

Then they put socks over my stockings that cover just my feet and ankles. This is followed by heavy leather black boots. They lace them up and tell me to walk around the room to try them. They are also a reasonable fit. You can’t see the socks, just my pink stockings.

A pink leather bondage belt is put around my waist above the skirt. Matching pink cuffs are put on my wrists and they are attached to the belt, arranged so my hands will be free of my skirt. I test my new restraints and find my hand movement is extremely limited.

It takes all three to do the next step. Two of them press and collapse the pancake skirt up against and around my body as the third puts black tear away basketball pants over my legs and waist, snapping them closed. There is a matching top that encloses, holds and hides the skirt against me and covers my secured arms. I am told we will leave shortly. Slow on the uptake, its only then that it registers in my mind that my dressers are wearing similar tear-away pants and matching jackets and we are all headed away from the house.

In the meantime, my hood is put back on, and I’m walked back into the main dungeon to watch the last bound participant get his final striping on the St. Andrews cross. The crowd has significantly thinned. I’m told people are heading out to the fair. The fair?

I’m taken into the bathroom, walked to the functional urinal. Master D’s sub holds my dick, and I’m told to pee one last time before we head out. With difficulty and still raw, I force myself to go. He shakes my dick, and we leave the dungeon, heading for the first floor. There I have a second jacket put on and zipped up, having no arms in the sleeves as they are secured still to my waist.

There is a party bus waiting for us outside. It's larger than the one we came in on yesterday. I board with a little help. There are many of Master D’s friends already on board. All the club members are there too. We find seats about three quarters of the way back. A few more enter and we are off.

Chapter 25: Folsom Street Fair

“You have any idea where we are heading?” I am asked by Master D. I shake my head no. “You know anything about the Folsom Street Fair? Again, I shake my head no. “Well, you are in for a treat. Its an annual event, this is the 42nd one. It celebrates the leather, kink, and alternate sexuality communities.”

He continues, “Its enormous. Famous. Thousands and thousands and thousands attend. My best description would be a huge party of crazy kinksters that covers several blocks on Folsom Street between 7th and 13th street. There are seven stages all with distinct themes such as drag, live music and of course bondage. You’ll like that. People wear all kinds of clothing from full drag and heavy leather to latex, pony wear and nudity. There are plenty of vendors selling food, gear, sex toys, you name it. All kinds of entertainment, many genres I’m sure you’ve never seen. We’ve been going for years and years.”

Very proudly he boasts, “It's a fundraiser too. It supports all kinds of LGBTQ+ organizations. That’s where you come in, you’re going to help us raise some funds. You’ll see later how that works. I have friends here that have a vendor’s booth who will be helping us. The whole fair is run by volunteers, many of which are close friends. Some even fucked you last night and are here with us on the bus. They’ll be working at the fair. Your tight free ass was my thank you to them.”

“We will unload the bus about a block from one of the entrances. I’ll take off your hood and put you in sunglasses while we walk in. We will head to my buddy’s booth where we will do more to hide your identity. People come here from all over the country. They all have phone cameras. I want to make sure your anonymity is preserved.”

We arrived. My mind is a basket case. I know how I am dressed. I’ve been told we are headed for a gigantic public fair attended by all kinds of people. They are going to use me to raise funds. Crap. I’ve been in public once before with Sir Michael in San Diego. That seems so tame now. This has made me so nervous that I am trembling.

It is a short walk to the gates. The fair opens at 11 am and goes to 6 in the evening. We are here right at the opening, so it’s not very crowded yet. Entry is free, but they solicit donations. Master D says to me as we walk in, “I’ve got your donation” as he gives two twenties to one of the volunteers. I nodded with thanks, having no wallet and no hands to contribute with.

Our group beelines it to the friend’s vendor tent. Introductions are made all around with me simply refer to as their ‘Sissy’. I’m brought into the booth where my jacket is removed and snap pants pulled off, boots untied and slipped off my feet as are the socks. They are replaced with white men’s ballet slippers. Pink ankle cuffs that match my wrist cuffs are buckled on and locked and a connecting chain of about eighteen inches is secured between them. My skirt is fluff back out and I’m told I look pretty. My sunglasses too are changed out. They are replaced with a pink full lace up the back tightly fitted head and neck hood. The neck has a lockable collar with a D-ring in front. The mouth opening and eye openings are both fitted with side snaps to attach gags and blindfolds if desired.

Instead of a blindfold, a pink wrap-around pair of sunglasses is placed over my hood. My face recognition is well concealed while still letting me see. Sight but no voice. An inflatable butterfly gag is stuffed into my mouth and snapped in place over the hood mouth hole. It is pumped up just enough to fill my cheeks and hold down my tongue, nothing excessive. A matching pink braided leash is snapped onto the D-ring.

They then spread suntan lotion over all my exposed skin which amounts to my legs past the stockings, privates, butt, upper back and chest. Grateful for the protection and horrified at what is exposed. Yes, the hood and glasses should hide who I am, but still… To myself I say “They wouldn’t take me out of the booth this way, would they? Didn’t they say there would be thousands here? They did say people may be naked. Oh my God, they are going to expose me!”

“Let’s take him for a walk before the crowds swell. I want him to see all there is here,” says, Sir Michael. Of all the people with us, Mike, my best friend would have been the last person I would expect to be leading me out for exposure to the world, dressed as a ballerina, as a sissy.

I’ll be able to walk without much difficulty; the chain has enough length to allow small steps. A prepared sign is shown to me then hung around my neck. It states: ‘TOUCH SISSY ONLY WITH MASTER’S PERMISSION’. The leash is taken by Master D, I am tugged and we are on our way.

Horrified. Mortified. Humiliated. Not sure how else to describe it. I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to be here. Stupid pride is the only thing stopping me from calling out safe words to end the trip. I walk along behind Master D and two of his unnamed friends. Dr. D, Sir Michael and one of the other stag Club Doms are behind me. They walk me down the street like we are a family out for a fun day at the State Fair.

It is still early at the festival, but there are ample numbers of people already in the streets. Some in far-out costumes, a lot in leatherware of all types, most in comfortable yet revealing clothes. Almost all men. They are joyful and happy to be here. The exception is me. No one is the wiser, as my face is hidden. I’m convinced everyone is looking at me; I feel I am a spectacle. I am drawing looks, but not as much as I think. There are many competing sights walking around to gawk at.

This is, as they said, a big fair. Lots of activities already. Each of the side streets seem to have their own theme and crowd. There are performers dancing on pedestals. There is a drag stage with a show of sorts already started. Live music is being played from another. There is a wrestling stage. There was a playground specifically for women, trans and non-binary people attending the fair. When I was paraded through there, I got applause, I’m not sure what they thought I was.

Then there was the bondage venue. This was just getting started, but there were various contraptions that masters were showing their different techniques for tying, suspension, and disciplining their submissives. These subs seem to have more clothes coverage than me, interesting. Some ‘performers’ were artful in their presentations, some educational, others exhibiting discipline at their best.

Most of the theme areas have sponsors. There are a lot of vendor stands and other booths too. Many cater to bondage and BDSM. Our entourage seems hell bent on visiting all of these, the boys making ongoing suggestions, bordering on threats, of how they were going to use the toys for sale on me, and I was to pay for them. Occasionally one of them would pick up one of the whips, paddles or floggers and try them out on my exposed ass or cock. Lots of food and beverage stands too. It smells great, just like any other fair. Some booths support specific groups or lifestyles.

The gathering is growing. My sign is read by many, a few act on the offering. Typically, the request is to fondle my balls, stroke my cock, play with my nipples or pinch my butt cheeks. A quick size up is made and permission is usually granted by Master D. I don’t know and I am not consulted on the approval criteria.

The very first request was a ball and cock fondling. I was in absolute shock and mortified the first time a complete hairy male stranger dressed in leather shorts, boots and harness reached under my tutu and for a good minute stroked my dick with one hand and squeezed my balls with his other; all happening in the middle of a public street with others standing in a circle around me watching with glee. I thought I would die of embarrassment. I did my best not to react. My dick betrayed me a bit.

Requests to suck me, fuck me, kiss me or have me blow them were always denied. I thought it was for my protection, it wasn’t. While nudity is allowed at the fair, open sex acts like those are illegal in public and therefore not permitted. The volunteers working at the fair are the first line of enforcement. Many of them are friends with Master D. He doesn’t want to lean on those friendships. Regardless of the reason, I’m relieved and happy.

We take a second stroll by the bondage forum before heading back to our base at his friend’s vendor booth (I’ve been instructed by Master D during editing review to remove the actual name reference to the store associated with the booth. They want anonymity too.)

After about the tenth encounter I lost count of how many times permission was granted to be touched. I never enjoyed it. Of these meetings, the worst was when on two occasions, different fellas took the liberty of digitally penetrating me as they fondled my balls. For health reasons it scared me. I was also photographed constantly. Sometimes with permission, usually without from afar. Close ups often came with a request for a pose, either a selfie or of a group groping me.

Chapter 26: A New Display

The group got me back after about an hour walk around the fair. My feet are sore; the slippers aren’t designed for street wear. I think the worse is over, my public exposure completed. I am wrong. The show is just getting started.

There is a general discussion going on between those that went with me and the boys left behind to set up for my next adventure. With some minor tweaks I’m told they are ready for me. And there it is, a ‘One Bar Prison’. I have suffered on one with these guys more than once before and each time I was exposed to the public, but never in a venue like this. If this is for me, and it is, this location will expose me to more people than I thought possible.

Not that this journal is meant to be a tutorial, but if you are unfamiliar with this kind of bondage restraint, let me explain. A One Bar Prison (OBP) is a specific BDSM related sex toy for restraining submissive partners. It is made in such a way that anyone using it is unable to get off of it by themselves, instead needing assistance from their Dom. This is accomplished by penetrating the anus or vagina (girls are subjected to these more than boys) from directly below with a single rod that is fixed onto a base on which the user will stand on. The rod is tall enough so that the person using it can't get enough traction against the ground or upper stretch to step off it and walk away on their own.

The pole is a tube with an interior cylinder that slides upward allowing adjustable penetration. It then has a locking method to hold the cylinder up in place after elevation. The top of the cylinder that enters the ass or pussy is sometimes a rubber dildo but more often is a stainless-steel torpedo shaped weapon or an increasing sized stack of stainless-steel balls.

The OBP is sometimes used simply by itself to frustrate the impaled who think they have enough freedom to escape but cannot. However, each time I’ve been subjected to being penetrated by the staff, my legs have also been secure to the flat base. My hands were then secured behind my back or to my sides. Escape was impossible.

Of note, here the OBP is sitting on a raised small rectangular platform about seven feet in front of the booth, placing it about a foot and a half above street level. The stand has enough room to walk around someone on the pole. The staff is about three inches in diameter and is topped with an oversized metal torpedo tip. It must be at least an inch and a half in diameter and a good seven inches tall. Menacing, but its size isn’t my fear. I see wires descending from it and plugged into an electro control box sitting on the platform. I’m going to be fried as I sit serving my time.

The pole is in its lowered position at the moment, waiting for me to straddle it. As I stare at it, they make my final preparations. I watch as the torpedo is heavily covered with Electro Lube. The chain is removed from my two ankle cuffs. My legs are spread and they put an ample coating of Electro Lube up my canal and around my anus.

They deflate and remove my gag, only to replace it with a pink ball gag. During the change, I am given a bottle of water via a straw. I also take the moment to say I need to pee, to which I am told to hold it, I can pee after I’m on the pole. I’m again not happy.

It's time and I am moved to the stand, lifted up, positioned and penetrated. It goes in deep, more than enough to accomplish its job. The Allen-bolts on the shaft are tightened, my ankle cuffs locked to rings welded to the OBP base and I am there till they decide to let me go. The plug was as it looked, large. Taking it was painful despite how much I’ve been stretched by cocks all weekend. Steel is unyielding.

Chapter 27: Let the Show Begin

Looking out, there must be twenty to thirty people watching me. My bondage, my costume, my exposed cock and balls; they are taking it all in. And I am dying of embarrassment. It doesn’t matter that they can’t tell who I am.

Master D is up on the stand with me. He speaks to me, “Sissy, let me tell you about what is about to happen. First, as I told you we raise funds at the Fair. You are going to help. We are going to allow people visiting the fair to have fun with you in exchange for donations. Our goal is $1,500. We have a sign suggesting different donation amounts to do different things to you. For instance, we suggest a gift of $5 for each hit on your butt with a paddle. Hitting your cock with a riding crop $10, your balls $20. We have ideas for increasing weights on a ball stretcher, clothespins on your nipples, stripes on your back. You get the general idea.

To keep your mind off it, your butt is on a timer. You’ll be at rest for five minutes, then we will make you dance on your pole for two full minutes. I promise you it will feel longer than that. Your electrification will be both pleasurable and painful. Like I said you’ll be dancing, your body bouncing up and down on its unyielding perch, shaking, trembling, on the edge of convulsing, then rest. It will entertain everyone watching. If like past years, from two to three o’clock this place will be jammed. So many eyes watching the Sissy help us reach our goal. Don’t disappoint me. If you do, I’ll simply add ‘giving control of your electro plug’ to the crowd to add donations.”

Nothing, absolutely nothing, that I have just been told makes me happy or fulfills a fantasy that I actually have dreamed about before or sexually excites me. I’m sure my dick is limp beneath my tutu,

“Oh yeah, you need to pee. Let’s take care of that or you may piss yourself once the electro show starts up.”

More humiliation, in front of all these people my dick is placed in the mouth of a plastic urinal bottle, and I am told to pee. Even though I need to go, it takes all my concentration and effort to get it done.

I am on show more than anything else, crowds are moving by as we are on somewhat of a pedestrian thoroughfare, traffic wise. The slightly raised platform certainly helps me be noticed. I am pointed at, people laugh, some change their direction and come forward to me. Their facial expressions are across the board as I am sighted, I have become a small part of a very big show.

Then it hits. My first shocks. As promised, they are filled with both pain and pleasure, intense, very intense. I am bouncing up and down as they said I would. Its good and bad. I’ve had similar shock treatments in Las Vegas. I had survived. I hung on to that thought as I took the ride. Roller coasters could never match this. I find myself holding my breath, then gasping for air. The contractions of my muscles migrate throughout my body. My feet and toes are arching up as high as they can, trying to dislodge me from this tormenting rod to no avail, it’s in me too deep. Soooo good, soooo bad, soooo good.

And off. Only the first round and I am already beat. There is some applause. I am a show. Now I hear my barkers shouting out my availability and conditions. It will be a slow start. There is enough background crowd noise to mute out negotiations around me, but I find the first contribution has been made as my butt is hit three times, moderately hard, nothing excessive. I’ve been paddled much harder by my own wife during home bondage play. I have a mild wave of relief that I might survive this.

My next donation puts more in the kitty as my dick head receives a slap, once from the right and once from the left by a riding crop. I hadn’t seen the approach and therefore was surprised by the hit. More surprising was when I looked down, I saw the riding crop being handed back to one of the masters by a woman dress in black patent leather, and I guess in her mid-forties. I wasn’t expecting that in this male dominated crowd.

Donations begin to pick up. My cock and butt both seem to be big fund raisers. The masters keep a close eye on the contributors, making sure no one is sadistic. Some playfully hit me, others hit me for real, but all are lighter than what my own masters and friends have done to me.

And of course, every five minutes I give a two-minute show jerking around on my stick. My whole body has the ability to move around and it does uncontrollably. Once, zaps had just started, causing me to unexpectedly bend forward hard at the waist just as someone was swinging a flogger at my cock and balls. Instead, I got it full force across my mask. The leather insulated me from any pain, but they did knock my sunglasses off. Master D waited until my whole dance was done before replacing them. Then he gave my flogger two free hits. I think Master D thought he was hot and therefore worthy of special treatment.

Chapter 28: The Second and Third Hour of Fund Raising

At the end of my first hour on the pole, my pink ball gag is removed, I am given another full bottle of water to drink, before the silicone inflatable butterfly gag is put back in my mouth. This time it is not pumped up. The water is to hydrate me during my long day out in the sun. The airless gag is there because they are now going to seek donations for pumping it up.

It doesn’t take long to sell enough pumps to expand my mouth so that my cheeks bulge, held in check by the leather hood, forcing the gag to no other choice but towards my throat, nearly causing my gag reflex to kick in. I am well muted, my tongue compressed to the bottom of my mouth. They must have bought at least ten pumps. Five or six would have sufficed. I was made to endure this unnatural expansion for at least fifteen minutes. Not sure how many donated to the cause, but the inflation bulb and valve were handled by two women.

During the second hour, groping of my balls and cock were also on the menu of choices. Only men took advantage of this opportunity. It’s the first time I have been handled by Bear Community gays. My world is expanding. One cupped and held my dick the entire time I was performing one of my pole dances. He almost brought me to climax. Unintentionally on my part, I assure you.

Striping is also an offering. This creative work will be delivered by an expert from our Vegas social club, but each stroke will still be a paid donation from the crowd. They are all to be front shots to my chest so they can be well seen by all as they are laid down and puff up in a rose-pink color, complementing my ballet outfit. The crowd cheers as I flinch with each slash. Verbal assaults are also hurled, attacking my manhood. I am here dressed and labeled as a sissy after all.

I will say that my two minutes of electro shocks has become my respite. Although it is exhausting to my body, the combined euphoria and pains it causes allows my mind to forget the humiliating crowd exposure I am enduring. They will be less enjoyable when in the third hour I am outfitted with a ball stretcher sling.

Weights to the stretcher are added by donation. It gets heavy and while I can’t see them, I’m sure my bag is well stretched and hanging low. When my shocks hit, they sway fiercely, causing unexpected agony. Hits to my balls with the riding crop seem to sell better while they are stretched this way. Admittedly, it hurts a lot more with the bag elongated.

The boys do control the crowd. I was very fearful that I would be in constant agony, yet it is only an occasional donor that gets his jollies by hurting me for real. They do let them take real swings, just not multiple harmful ones that would leave long lasting welts, bruises or cause bleeding.

I didn’t often hear the requests and bargaining. I did hear one. It was coming from a large gay man. His privates were covered, but he left nothing to the imagination, you could tell he was huge. So much so one might question if it was fake. His large frame convinced me otherwise. He wanted to fuck me. He was offering a big donation, $250.

I could tell Dr. D wanted to accept the offer. There was a conference, with Master D prevailing with a firm ‘No, not here’. His arguments against included he didn’t want to free up my plugged ass (minor), and it would break the Fair’s rules which could affect his stellar reputation with the Fair’s organization (his main concern). He offered a counter proposal, our new friend was welcome to come back to the ‘After Party’ at Master D’s home, where he could freely use both of my holes to his heart’s content for his kind contribution.

This guy is decked out in heavy leather. He is packing a cock surely larger than Sir Michael’s mammoth. He could tear me apart or fill my mouth and throat so tight that he’d suffocate me. I am in a mini panic. I listen for his answer, and just as he gives it the damn electro shocks hit again and I don’t hear the reply as I bounce about. I see a handshake but nothing else. Now I have another thing to fret about as I am abused on my stand.

By the third hour my legs are fatigued. The pole is holding me up as much as my limbs are. A few times when I’d be dealing with the electro shocks forcing me up on my tired toes and convulsing my body, I’d close my eyes and drift into Lalaland, when suddenly, I’d be jerked back into consciousness with a hard smack to my ball sack or some other vulnerable body part.

This would cause my exhausted legs to give out. I’d crash down on the dildo driving it deeper into my rectum canal till I bottomed out at the wider pole to which it was affixed. That pain was compounded by the electrified dildo now touching fresh rectal tissue, intensifying the electro-assault till I could resettle myself back up on my legs.

Gee, this is fun.

Chapter 29: Final Hours on the Perch, Goal Exceeded

Like before, my gag is removed for a rest at the top of the hour, and I am again given water along with an energy bar. I’m grateful, but with my regular watering and my system being jarred into remission every five minutes, I need to pee again. I know they are not going to let me down, so I resign myself to peeing in front of hundreds of people walking by and others watching exactly what I am doing.

I get it done, though I know I didn’t go much. I am cheered as the bottle is pulled away by Dr. D’s sub/mate. Above the noise I hear someone yell out, “I’ll donate $100 if you make him drink it.” Oh shit.

There is a momentary pause, and Master D answers back, “Make it $200 and we have a deal.”

I am hopeful this guy is at his limit, when I hear someone else call out, “I’ll add the second $100.” I’m screwed.

“Deal. Come over to the side. We will need a little change in the setup.”

A couple minutes pass. I go through another zapping. Master D and a guy that I saw earlier that was associated with the vendor stand mount the stage. They stand in front of me and have a new boxed toy with them, which they show to me.

The vendor guy says to Master D, as he wouldn’t be talking directly to me, “We just started carrying these a week or two ago, what perfect timing. And get this, we had a choice of colors and decided out of all the colors to order a case of pink ones. It’s made by Oxballs WATERSPORT. They make quality functional stuff.”

“This strap on urinal is shaped to fit and can’t leak. The mouth-tube is part of the urinal which is deep and wide with a channel that funnels directly into the mouthpiece. The urinal is lighter and doesn’t have a big clunky funnel and tube to deal with like the traditional ones. It straps around the head tight. It’s much different than your set up at home but we ordered them knowing you and your mate’s kink and other customers for piss-play. We haven’t tried it yet ourselves, so let’s see.”

(Note, I didn’t recall all these details as the conversation was quick, so I checked out Oxballs online as I transcribed my journal so my reporting would reflect what was said and depict its features.)

The new toy’s mouthpiece is pushed into my mouth and seated over my teeth and around my lips, then strapped on. They both depart, then Master D reappears with whom I guess is one of the contributors. He hands him my urine bottle and tells him to go ahead and pour half of it in. The crowd that now circles the stand and has grown over the past few minutes is cheering him on as the pour is made. It flows immediately into my mouth. I have no other course of action but to swallow. I wish they had ice, warm piss, even if its your own, is disgusting. I’m a bit strong today. I’m later told that it’s probably because my kidneys are still processing the urine I drank yesterday. I’m now going to process my own for the third time.

The gentleman turns around to the crowd, lifts up the bottle and takes a bow. His fellow patron mounts the stage to administer my second drink. These guys are all performers. Hence the many crazy outfits many of the visitors are wearing. He is heavily into leatherware. He raises the urinal up high and slowly pours my pee into the collector cup, prolonging the flow into my mouth making we swallow three times to get it down. The total amount was not that much, but certainly more than a sip.

It was a big money maker. Master D left the toy in my mouth till the next changeover a good half hour later. I was fearful the whole time that someone watching would offer their own piss for me to drink for a sizable donation. I know that urine is supposed to be germ free and won’t support STDs and HIV, but still, I don’t want that to happen.

Added to the floggings, striping, fondling, and other dubious but profitable activities for this latest hour was the allowance of the audience to come on stage for a donation to run a Wartenberg pinwheel over my exposed body parts. Not surprising the favorite areas were my nipples, pecs, cock and balls.

With the ball stretcher removed, at least two different men felt fine with grabbing my balls and stretching them tight before aggressively running the multi wheels over my bag. None of which I could personally observe do the tutu skirt hiding their fun.

The final hour also included adding clothespins to my nipples, then subjecting them to whipping with the rider crop to knock them off. The supporters must stand in front of the stage, but with the riding crop’s long handle I am easily reached. They get three tries to knock off a clothespin, for a modest donation of $10. Always trying to keep their customers happy, if they knock the pin off with less than three hits, they tell them to go and take another swat at anything they want. Most of the time it was that same sore nipple. Or of course, my balls or cock.

All good things must come to an end. And the fund raiser portion for me is done. Wanting to end it with a crescendo, these pricks first pump up my butterfly gag, then ramp up the electro plug even higher and run it for five full minutes till I am near convulsions, my begging to stop completely muffled. The audience applauded and cheered the entire time I performed my final pole dance much to the delight of my assembled masters. I don’t know who’s sicker, the guy that allowed himself to be put here to be abused, the dudes who conceived and executed this twisted exhibition or the thousands who have gleefully watched in amazement.

Chapter 30: One Last Tour of the Fair

The pole is retracted and ankle cuffs released from the base. My exhausted, sore and limp body is assisted off the stage. The gag is removed, but my arms remain cuffed to my waist. I am sat down on a folding chair, given water, allowed to pee in the jar again and have my ankle cuffs rechained as they were for my last walk. Not done with me, a leather ball separator & shaft harness is snapped around my privates. A leash is attached to the end and drooped over my shoulder. They give me about fifteen minutes to recover my strength and eat a snack.

Nearing the end of my rest period, I am approached from the left, it’s a woman dressed as a dominatrix in black patent leather. She comes right up to me, puts her stiletto boot on my knee and asks, “Remember me?”

I remember her too well. It’s the All-American-Girl I tortured yesterday on the Sybian and likely the one who suffered because of me in Vegas. She is dressed the same as when I last saw her except now her privates are barely covered with a leather G-string. Her breasts are still exposed. She also has added a matching riding crop to her ensemble. Still as hot as ever.

“Payback time Sissy. Do you remember how much fun you had torturing me yesterday, never helping me, no matter how much I begged you? How about in Vegas, do you recall just watching me forced to serve all the men there and me riding another one of those horrid machines, you always looking out for yourself and never me? Well, it’s my turn to do the watching, let’s go for a walk.” she informs me as Sir Michael puts my Sissy permission sign back on, the confirmation that I’m screwed.

She grabs my leash and I am pulled up by my dick and walked back into traffic dressed in my pink tutu, my privates still exposed below it. The crowds are thinning, but there is still a much bigger crowd then my earlier stroll. We again have a team on the walk. Her Dom and Master D. have the forward point. She and I walk side by side, her in obvious control holding my leash, having fun pulling at me. Dr. D, Sir Michael and one other Club master are behind us. I wish I had names for the others, but the rules we play by say no.

My morning trip around the fair was more to show me what it was all about. This late afternoon jaunt is more to have me abused and humiliated by and for the public, The masters will argue this is solely for me. If that was true, why do I hate this, and why does everybody seem to be having the time of their lives but me?

Having a female mistress instead of a male master catches more eyes. We are getting more attention. This is an atypical couple. She’s young, petite, beautiful, dressed as a dominatrix. I’m reaching middle age, arguably well fit with a decent physique, much taller, yet parading as her sissy. Begs for the question of how this match up happened. If they knew the real story, they would be astonished. Actually, I only know half of the story, I don’t really know hers.

I am not gagged but I know better than to talk. She grants permission for anyone who asks to do pretty much anything but have sex with me. And my gropers are being more liberal in their touching, comments and requests. They have been partying all day, drinking too. They’ve been excited, entertained and aroused by the different venues, entertainers and interactions, so they are now not shy, if they ever were. And here I am, available to view, play with and taunt. The mistress motivated to oblige them with her memories of yesterday so fresh in her mind.

My ass was ravaged by the many hours on the pole. That doesn’t seem to be a concern of meddlers wanting to digitally search out my prostate. And they do. They seem to want to pinch and twist my nipples too. About fifteen minutes into the walk, my mistress ups the fun by adding adjustable nipple clamps that are chained together to each of my nipples. Something for the sightseers to pull on and on occasion add a turn to the tightness screws.

One lad (ok, he was probably 35) was very happy with a new purchase (tags still on it) of a large black bumpy dildo with a handle. She granted him permission to try it out, telling me to bend over and spread my legs. Quite a sight with my tutu. He had it well in me and was starting to manually fuck me with it when Master D stopped everything saying it would be considered prohibited street sex.

The disappointed owner then asked if it was permitted to suck the toy in public. Master D pondered on it for a moment and then issued the verdict that he would think that would be OK. So, the ‘now not new’ dildo was in my mouth for a lick and multiple thrusts. When I asked later why other sex was not allowed (thankfully), but fingering was acceptable, the answer was simply that probing me was not that noticeable so the likelihood of being caught was low.

My Dominatrix was also happy to show everyone her skills with her riding crop. She is especially fond of my pinched nipples and of course my exposed cock and balls, made even more vulnerable when she pulls my leash tight with her non-whip yielding hand.

New on this walk too are those that want to hug the ballerina and try to dance with her. With my arms bound this is awkward and difficult. It just encourages them to hold me in a tighter embrace. When held like this, it makes warding off the boys trying to kiss me challenging. I’ll give credit to my masters, they step in quickly and stop inappropriate, unhealthy or contract prohibited behavior. My mistress is less aware of these hard limits, so I can’t blame her when it happens.

And so, it goes on till we cover most of the venue. My body is exhausted and that must be evident. Master D remarks, I think Sissy’s done with the show, he’s earned a rest, let’s rap up and take him home.

We made a final visit to his friend’s booth. They are starting to wrap up too. There is talk of what’s next. Suggestions are made by Master D’s friends to go to some of the popular after-parties at nearby venues. He declines saying there will be an after event at his own place. They are invited back to his home, and many indicate they may indeed stop by.

One of the first things they do to me as we wrap things up is thoroughly wipe me down with antiseptic wipes everywhere I was or could have been touched, other than obviously inside my butt hole. They had done this after my first walk and throughout the day, even replacing the suntan lotion they removed in the process.

Dr. D also advises we will start my preventative med regiment as soon as we get back to the house, adding that he had been watching closely all day and my risk is extremely low. I’d be more likely to catch the flu or a cold than anything else.

My original boots, pants and jacket are put on me. The bastards keep my very fatigued and cramping arms locked to my waist, hidden by my coat. Master D had made a call while we were walking back to the booth, so our private bus transportation was waiting for us.

Chapter 31: Praise and Rewarded at the After-Party

Back at the house, I’m taken right upstairs and undressed from my costume. I then am allowed to take a long, hot shower, to which I am given special antiseptic soap as an added precaution. I am also asked to cleanse myself inside, this time with very specific instructions.

I am first to do a short low volume burst of water to clean out any likely feces in my lower chamber. After I expel that, I am to fill myself with a Betadine antiseptic douche they provided me with and to try to hold it in me for five minutes. Finally, I am to discharge that and re-douche as I normally do for a playdate.

I knew the first douching was necessary. All the electro dancing softened me up. Self-evident when I had to lick and suck the dildo on my second tour. The use of the antiseptic rinse was new to me and provided me with some mental comfort regarding my health.

With that all done, I am helped in getting dressed by my Club mates, which amounted to a full leather body harness, slave collar and a leather cap. I at least look and feel masculine in my current nakedness, so glad to be out of the sissified costume. Cuffs are added to both wrists and ankles, each set with ample connecting chains. We head downstairs.

There are plenty of people now back at the house. Thirty, maybe forty. Mostly men. Some couples, some not. Looks like equal numbers of Dom/subs and simple gay couples. I see two of the male/female Dom/sub couples here yesterday including my recent tour guide mistress. Funny to see her back in her sub role. Her pussy uncovered again. There are just a few here that are in outfits that expose some or all of their privates, as we two do, and I think I am the only one almost fully naked and I am self-conscious.

Next up was a good smorgasbord meal being shared with all the guests. Catered. Nice. I was famished and with permission and encouragement ate heartily.

I am intermingling with the others. I’m surprised at how many are praising me for the wonderful job I did today entertaining the masses. Out of politeness, I nodded to acknowledge their comments, but what they didn’t seem to understand was that both in my mind and in reality, I had no control over what occurred, I was unworthy of their admiration. My dancing was involuntary reactions to preprogrammed shocks. The physical abuse that had delighted them was delivered by others to a restrained bondage slave, incapable of defiance. Didn’t they see the pole up my rectum, the wires, my bound arms and legs, the gags?

Finished with food, drink and socializing, the crowd is ready for more entertainment. Some seek their own, it turns out I will be it for others. I am taken back upstairs to the playroom. There I am strapped in the pegging bench which has again been placed in front of the large screen that I had previously watched my ‘wife’ take on five gay men.

I am at a loss. I have been well abused for two days. My body is certainly beat and my hole ravaged. Mentally worn out and frazzled. Then over the past hour and a half I had been treated still as a sub, but in a pleasant, non-abusive atmosphere, intermixing with subs, Doms and the others gathered. Now it looks like I’m right back into BDSM servitude. I thought I was done, yet I am now again strapped to a pegging bench, my holes accessible to all.

As always, there is a reason and a thought-out plan. Many of the party people are called on to assemble around me. Master D is acting somewhat as a Master of Ceremonies. He first thanks everyone for coming. He hopes they all had a great time at the fair. He indicates how the event has raised a lot of money for some very important projects.

He then talks about our own little fundraiser. He announces that we had exceeded our goal of $1500 with the final count being $1870. There is applause. They are told this is more than his small group has raised in any of their previous years. More applause. It has been given, as in all the years past, to the Folsom Fair Organization as part of their overall fundraising efforts.

He thanks all who made it possible. He names them. Of course I don’t know anyone’s real name, so it means nothing to me, other than him mentioning Mike, the one true name I know. I begin to think he’s not going to name me. Arguably fine because I am just a sub. Turns out I was just a little impatient.

Master D then says, “We all know that none of this would have been possible if Sir Michael wasn’t willing to rent his submissive to me to be used at the Pre-Party and Fair this weekend. And gang, we all know that Sissy was amazing. His performance was both incredible and titillating. Who would have thought in this venue a straight guy would steal the show. He took everything we made him do in stride and never once through all our use, abuse and torture did he call out his safe words.”

Continuing he adds, “A real trooper, and amazing slave who I might mention is just a two-year-young, part-time submissive. Sissy, I am so grateful and the whole gang loves you and what you took on. Thank you.” Applause, applause, applause from the group. From my bound bench, I blush.

He adds, “If you haven’t read his journals that tell about his journey, I recommend you do. His masters made him post them online. They too are amazing. That said, I want to give a final thank you to all of you here that opened your wallets to make the whole Folsom Fair a fantastic success today. We all benefit from their missions.

For my mate’s and my personal gratitude for your philanthropy we want to reward you with some evening sexual gratification, BDSM style. Sissy is still under contract to me for a few more hours so his two holes, his whole body, come to think of it, will be available all evening for anyone who wants to use him. His butt may be a little stretched at this time, but as tight as it normally is, I think you’ll enjoy it. Just remember to cover yourself unless you are on Doc’s approved list for barebacking him.”

I’m fucked. Figuratively and soon to be literally.

Then to me, he says, “Don’t worry, we have a little diversion to help your final hours pass. Your friends from Vegas have produced something very special for you. It will be shown on the screen all evening as we take our turns with you. It is my understanding this will showcase your true biggest fantasy. Before we start it though I want to reintroduce you to a friend you made this weekend.”

He then calls forward my recent mistress. Still in leather, her leash held by her master. “This lovely young submissive lives in Vegas, and her Dominant is a close friend of some of the masters in your social club. With his permission and support she served as the model in the film work that we all enjoyed yesterday and some additional work you are about to see. You paid her back today letting her experience the Dom/sub relationship from the other side. She had a good time. With that said, let’s get back to fun,” and Master D walks away.

Still standing beside me, my leather friend pats my head and says, “I hope you like my work. I did have fun doing it. You aren’t the only one with forbidden fantasies to act out.” And she and her master also step away. I have not been left alone; I don’t do a count, but I sense there are at least a dozen people around me. I don’t know if they are here to watch the show or if they are queuing to use me.

Chapter 32: Watching My Ultimate Fantasy

The screen comes to life. It appears to be Dr. D’s dungeon. It starts with a man in leather Dom attire setting a naked woman up on the devious and cruel oversized Spanish horse that I know personally too well. I watch her arms being secured in a leather arm binder. They will be pulled up behind her and secured from above bending her forward. Her pussy is spread open and crushed as she is set down on the inverted V of the horse's saddle edge. He manipulates her cunt lips to maximize the future agony.

Her legs are then spread wide under the horse's body secured to an adjustable spreader bar putting all her weight on her cunt bone and lips. He ends with adding severe nipple clamps to her nipples and tethering them to the front of the horse. She is in obvious excruciating pain.

The woman is my wife. The man is me.

I don’t know how they do it. I know this is AI assisted filmmaking. I know this isn’t real. Or at least it isn’t really my wife and me. I just met someone who said she was the model. Someone that I’d have no trouble believing what I am seeing on screen she really experienced. And that she loved doing it. But I don’t know how these are our faces and our bodies on screen.

In this setup she continues to suffer on the horse as I whip her and then spread her legs to increase her anguish. I am rock hard. So am I in the video. I can barely catch my breath watching. To me this is tremendously arousing, so hot. I would love my wife to want to be a submissive who would want to serve me this way. How I wish this could really happen.

Next up, I am strapping her to the St. Andrews cross. Her wrists and ankles first buckled into the four ratchet cuffs which as I tighten them stretch her out till she starts to squeal. Then she is strapped tight against the cross with the many pre-mounted leather straps. It's a brutal striping of her body. Extra attention paid to her pussy and breasts.

You see me securing her wrists with suspension cuffs to a trapeze bar, with her legs cuffed already to a spreader bar below. She is then raised till her feet leave the ground. I proceed to flog her as she spins on her suspension cable. Dropped back down till her toes barely reach the floor, I take her from behind. Fucking her pussy and then her butthole.

The last scene is me strapping her to a pegging bench. All three holes are taken. When I take her ass and cunt, I play breath control games with her, a plastic bag over her head, controlled with a leather strap around her neck. Her bucking and attempts to suck any air through the collapsed bag against her face makes the fucking so much more intense for both of us. The camera zooms a close up of her panicked and hopeless face. Wow.

The best though is when I fuck her mouth, held open by a ring gag. It is here where she will take my load. When ejaculation finally comes it is with my hard cock deep within her mouth filling her throat with cum. Staying pressed against her face, I squeeze her nostrils closed with my hand so she can only suck in air through her mouth to breathe. This ensures she swallows all that I have given her. Something she detests and never allows. She has made my day being the forced cum swallowing bondage slut of my greatest fantasy.

This creation is to me the hottest thing I have ever seen. It is everything I fantasize of doing to my willing wife, operative word there ‘willing’. I have no desire at all in real life to forcibly do these things to her against her will. She is the love of my life, and I would never hurt her or bind her unless she longed for it. She’d have to beg for it.

The absolute truth is she would never want this. Never allow this. Would hate even the thought of it. If she saw BDSM bondage and sexual abuse this severe, she would be beyond furious, hurt and crushed. Yes, this would never, never, never happen. I’ve long ago come to terms with that. It is as it should be. That makes what I am watching even hotter. The ultimate forbidden fruit.

Many guy’s fantasies are doing it with another woman. Maybe multiple women. Other men. Not me, this is mine. A wife severely bound, disciplined and fucked. Hot, hot, hot. Because it is so wrong. So forbidden in my personal world. The definition of taboo taken to the extreme.

In my home life we have and do enjoy bondage play. It’s what my last journal ‘Because She Loves Me’ is all about. But it is not her thing. Light to moderate bondage is about as far as it will go. That’s has much to do with why I am here in San Francisco, to get my bondage and sexual abuse fix.

Getting back to the on-screen entertainment, I was so focused, so engrossed I didn’t even notice or hear all the comments and cheering coming from the peanut gallery around me. What brings me back to reality is when someone says, “So you like to do bound naked girls who can’t stop you, well I like to do bound naked men who can’t stop me, especially straight ones,” as he plows full force and deep into my fully accessible and bound hole.

And that is how the evening progressed. The video looped repeatedly. Others came to watch. And my ass and mouth were used for the pleasure of others. Other men. My attention so diverted by the film I had no idea of how many took advantage of my situation. But I loved it. Maybe the best time ever under the submissive control of others. I’ve never been taken by men while so fully erect and aroused. All because of the video.

It's been a while, a long while watching. I so wish I had my hands so I could jerk off to this. It is about that time when Sir Michael returns. He says to me, “I’ve been watching, you’ve really been enjoying this. I’ll give you the details about how we made it when you return home. I also know you too well. You will stress out about getting excited by this. You will also stress about getting excited with the other girls that were here, that you crossed some arbitrary line you can’t even define. You’ll try to convince yourself that you were forced and couldn’t stop it, then counter your own justification knowing you willingly came here and had safe words you didn’t use.”

Continuing he adds, “You won’t let yourself be human. You refuse to believe that coming here allows you a needed release so that you don’t jeopardize your marriage for real by doing something stupid like seeking comfort for your fetishes with women back home. I’m your best friend; I am providing you with a safe outlet. Your wife is just as important to me. I do this for her too. It’s a good thing. That said, I grant you absolution from the Church of Sir Michael. Put your mind at rest. Of course there is penance to pay,” he says with a giggle I have known since college with him. A giggle that always follows with something bad for me.

And in seconds he is coating my ball sack with IcyHot. Locked onto the bench, there is nothing to do but suffer for the next half hour, maybe longer. It is first the burning ice-cold penetrating into my balls, then the warming till they are burning. Chemical abuse, they have done this to me before. I’ll live, but I’ll be very unhappy for a while.

I foolishly think he is done with me, he is not. He now says, “We will be heading in different directions tomorrow and it will be a while till I see you. So, a blow job by my bound bestie would be nice, don’t you think? Do me good, I want you to take some of me home with you. You know you want it.” And with that his cock, already semi-hard is presented for service.

I express in many of my other writings that this cock is big. Very big, something to be proud of and he has been boasting about it as long as I have known him. It takes effort for me to take him orally. But I have been improving my skills since he first made me kiss it two years ago.

I get to work, I do well, get praise along with his help in making it good for him. Then he drives deep one final thrust, and I do all I can to hold my gag reflex as he unloads his cum, coating my throat then mouth, before he slowly pulls back out leaving a glaze on my tongue with his ending drizzle. He takes his drool and cum coated member and wipes it clean against my cheeks, nostrils and lips as he says, “That was in honor of your Bride, remember what a Saint she is when you play with her.”

Sucking cock, and worse, having it then cum in my mouth is always repugnant to me. I dare not complain, though, as I grumble all the time to Mike that my wife won’t let me cum in her mouth. I think that is his motivation for the job I just gave him, and hence, his comment. But it was at least a diversion for the fire on my testicles that continues to burn ever more deeply without relenting on the surface either.

The ball abuse eventually subsides. The room slowly thins as everyone has had a long and fun day. Master D comes by. He makes some comments about the video still playing including some complementary ones about the attractiveness of my wife. He understands my bondage fetish and adds that he can see why I would like to take her this way, if only in my dreams.

He also says, almost apologetically that he has already sent his mate and weekend sub to bed and doesn’t want to wake him, so if I don’t mind, before he lets me out, he wants to fuck me. Then he added that he is going to do me regardless of my answer but thought he should be polite because I have been such a good submissive.

My butt hole is beyond sore; it’s been ravaged all weekend. This is the last thing I want. But like he said, I have no choice, having no choice is what I signed up for, I will be used again, like it or not. He dons his condom, takes me slow and long and hard, enjoys himself and climaxes like a pro. As he extracts himself, he murmurs humorously, “Yeah, probably the best buck I spent in a long time.”

He releases me and walks me over to the bondage bed. “Your last night and likely last chance for a while, so do you want to sleep bound again?” I nod yes and I am secured as before. A blindfold is added along with ear buds with music. I drift off quickly.

Chapter 33: Heading Home

The sun is up when I am awakened by Master D’s sub unlocking me. I’m given a pleasant ‘good morning’. He adds that my contract ended at midnight, a surprise to me. He tells me I am no longer an indentured submissive; I am one of the guys. And interestingly he tells me that as far as conversation goes downstairs to everyone, I am no longer Sissy, Sissy never existed, so I should not expect any discussions about what has happened over the past couple of days and I shouldn’t initiate any either, ending with ‘that’s how we play the game here’. He departs and I seem to be alone. I check and I am.

I shower and take care of my normal morning routine. I dress in my street clothes. Work quickly on my journal entries even though there is so much to record. Then I head downstairs.

The dining room and kitchen are filled with people socializing, most are from my group but there are others. And as promised, I seem like one of the group, an equal. I am certainly not treated as a submissive. No one else seems to be acting as a submissive either, though I know some of them served as such for the weekend.

It’s a good time. I like these guys. Yeah, I know they do and say horrible things to me when we are playing, but honestly, that is why I come. It's my release. These guys, strangely, like and care about me.

We are not rushed, but there are planes to catch. Its time to end the fun. The bus comes. We say our goodbyes, load and depart. I’m grateful for being invited to play. I’m told I made the weekend for them.

Not sure if I will be back again for the Folsom Street Fair, but I’ll tell you, it’s an experience I’d recommend to anyone with oddball sexual kinks. Just maybe don’t attend as part of forced fund-raising efforts.

Epilogue

My trip home was unremarkable. My normal life and persona of a driving business executive, loving husband, father and friend taking center stage. It wasn’t till the weekend, mainly because of busy schedules, but I was back to making romantic gentle love to my wife and loving it.

I had never heard of the Folsom Street Fair. I had been to San Francisco a few times for business. I knew the town had a large Gay population, but the Fair, no.

As to my physical condition, my butthole remained sore longer than it did on any previous visits out West. Reasonable, I sat on the pole being shocked for way too long. Then I was fuck by too many people before and after, all taking a toll. I have no idea how many. I could check the recordings and count, but why? A rectum wasn’t designed for that much abuse, regardless of the exact number and I paid for it.

The first two days I treated it with Desitin Cream. That took care of the rawness, but then there was still swelling, basically hemorrhoids, so I switched to good old Preparation H which relieved the discomfort and helped them go away in another two or three days. All is well now. Though I’m not sure if my hole is as tight as it was before I started this journey.

My urethra also was irritated from the sound that was inserted in it with the cock cage. Again, because the toy was left in for too long of a duration than was meant to be. It did heal up in a day or two but peeing in the meantime was painful.

I did receive repeated hits as part of the fundraising, but because of tight oversight by my team, most were tame compared to my normal whippings from my own masters, so the ill effects from that were gone the next day except for my balls. They took an extra day to recuperate, mainly they were just tender when touched. No marks remained on my body by the time I got home.

As in past trips, Dr. D gave me preventative ‘day after’ medicines for HIV and STDs just to add additional safety. The HIV medicine is a month-long regiment. I always get tested afterwards and I am clean.

My drinking urine is not without controversy; my information comes from both Dr. D’s discussions and my own research. Certainly, pee is not a health drink (some say it is), but not poisonous either (some say it is). I am still not sure what the actual answer is, the jury is still out. Without question I hate doing it, it’s disgusting to taste and it nauseates me when I’m given large quantities and that is why Dr. D finds ways of making me do it. I didn’t get any illness or viruses from consuming the urine, nor have I previously.

I know STDs, such as chlamydia, gonorrhea, syphilis, and HIV, are primarily spread through sexual contact, including vaginal, anal, and oral sex. I wanted to know if piss-play had the same issues. So, after my first forced experience in San Diego, I did some on-line research and found that urine itself is generally not considered a direct source of STD/HIV transmission as it serves as a poor host and the STDs cannot survive in it.

In certain rare scenarios, contact with infected fluids like semen, vaginal secretions, or blood while urinating could pose a risk; however, the likelihood of contracting an STD from urine alone is extremely low. That is why I’ve been told that people not on Dr. D’s ‘clean list’ were allowed to feed me their piss but had to wear condoms when they fucked me or made me suck them.

As to my physical safety as a Urinal, with my peripheral vision limited I couldn’t see him, but always while anyone was strapped into the mouthpiece there was a ‘Bathroom Attendant’ on duty. I did notice the attendant when I peed there, just wasn’t aware of his duties. He was sitting on the chair in the corner ready to spring into action should the ‘fixture’ go into any kind of duress. I was told it was usually someone’s sub. They were briefed about what to look for, listen for, and what to do. They didn’t hand out towels or toiletries and tipping wasn’t necessary.

An explanation is warranted on the amazing videos that are perfect images of my wife and me. They are fake, neither of us appear for real in the films. One of the subs in the Social Club in Vegas where I am an honorary member is an intelligence-cinematographer, i.e. an AI film maker. I’m told he is well known and very successful in his field. He is an expert in AI deep learning, deepfake and generative adversarial networks and has invented and has technology patents on many of the systems used today in this fast-developing industry. I have been given a copy of his impressive resume, his name and personal information, of course, eradicated from the document. He currently is working on solutions to put markers on generated work so that fakes can be identified that depict real people, solving a real ethical industry problem.

I have previously seen and was the subject of his work that showed my own rope hanging, strangulation and death created for mind games played during my last Vegas visit (see my journal ‘Deep Down in the Depths of Servitude’). And now he is the genius behind the film work of my wife, the guys, and me as recounted in this diary. His motivation to produce it was his need to test his marker solution on some short AI modified videos. So, early this summer during a playdate with the gang at Dr. D’s dungeon (I was not there) he asked if anyone wanted to shoot some films. Having fun with me was suggested, and a collaboration was put together. In the end it would include most of the gang and others taking part.

Dr. D was the plot and story mastermind using my only non-forced journal (Because She Loves Me) that describes the bondage play my wife and I had on my birthday as his motivation. The two video story lines that evolved were from my admissions and personal thoughts in that journal. Filming required actors, which in the Cuckold video became the Doms that would attend the Fair. The female model that transformed into my wife was the same young lady who rode the Sybian and served as my tour mistress. The second model that became ‘me’ was her husband and Dominant.

They needed digital videos and stills of my wife. That was where our dear friend Mike came into play. Each year my family rents a large beachfront home on the Outer Banks. Our whole family comes as do relatives and friends. Mike has come before and was here this August at our insistence, he always helps make the week fun. It was there that he took phone videos of my wife playing beach volleyball in her bikini, sunbathing and swimming in the ocean. Also, while at dinner, touring and out just having a good time. I was in the recordings too. I suspected nothing. Didn’t know he was on assignment.

Our cinematographer is equally skilled in filming. Using cameras specifically designed for AI manipulation he recorded the boys having the sex depicted with the model. She is remarkably close in size and body features as my wife, just younger. I have since been schooled on a lot of the technical aspects of how it was done, much that was lost on me. I do know she wore some kind of suit at times that laid down data points needed for some of the processes.

I didn’t grasp the technical jargon of how he married information from Mike’s phone and my Vegas dungeon recordings to the action they filmed of the boys fucking her and her husband disciplining her, but he performed his magic and wa-lah we have films of the boys fucking my wife and of me torturing and screwing her restrained beautiful body.

I was told he put untold hours into the project as the taboo subject matter would not allow him to use his staff. He finished just in time to send it to San Francisco with the boys. Sadly, due to other pressing work deadlines, he was not free to travel to see his premiere. His dominant mate, who was one of the actors, was there.

Regarding our perfect model, her kinks include being forced to ride the Sybian and being bound and then fucked by multiple men. She, like me, loves her spouse and he loves her. So, he lets her have her fun by being screwed exclusively by the gay men, so he won’t get jealous. He uses only men from our Club knowing they are both health wise and romantically safe. He lets her play with me because he knows my story and restrictions of having sex with other women. So, taking a Sybian ride here and playing with the boys in the studio, along with the bonus of being allowed to abuse me, is how she was ‘paid’ for her work. I don’t know if she has a SAG card.

Her husband served as the other performer in filming my wife bondage scenes. That is why the content was so compelling. Dr. D’s vision and dungeon combined with this BDSM Dom engaging his favorite kink, doing his harshly bound wife, made for amazing shoots. His body shape and size, even age, is similar to mine, as his wife (other than age) was to my wife. It made the process go smooth and fast once the data points were loaded, matched, networked, etc., I’m told.

The Club actors were in San Francisco and reprise their roles live. Something I was curious about was how they pulled off having cum loaded cocks to stick in my mouth as they came out of the back room. So, while I was preparing this document, I asked how that trick was done.

Turns out they had the two Club subs in the backroom with them. They masturbated onto a plate, and the actors rolled their cocks in their mess before coming out to torment me. The Dom that only got a blow job from my ‘wife’ had a short BJ backstage to coat him with saliva before dipping his tip in the semen. Dr. D fucked his mate for a bit before coating his cock, the other two taking on the second sub providing for the authentic mixed taste I got from them. What an effort to make this feel real. Very clever boys.

When the trip was set up, Dr. D asked if I would have any problem with contributing $500 to help cover general expenses relating to the ‘party’. I was happy to send it along. Afterwards I found out it was really used to pay for the airfare of our two modeling stars. He wanted to thank them for helping, but more so he wanted my mind to have to deal with the fact that I had paid for her to be there. So, as we departed the airport on the way home, he made sure I knew. I didn’t mind paying for her flight; it was worth it, even made it a little fun thinking about it. I had been naughty. Sorry Dr. D, you lost this one, a rarity I know.

While I was worried about the well-endowed guy from the Fair that made the $250 offer, he didn’t ever appear at the house. He must have found better or cheaper prey.

In Vegas most of what happened to me was recorded, both sight and sound. It helped greatly with accurately capturing all the details and dialog of my stories. Here, everything in the dungeon was also recorded including a straight on shot of the urinal. However, the overall coverage was not as sharp and sound was not as clear. There were not as many cameras and so the action isn’t always close up and tight. Especially difficult were the conversations, which were often hard to hear. It still helped immensely with my writing, but they are not as fun to watch for my entertainment and arousal as are previous trip recordings.

On the other hand, I was gifted copies of both films of my wife. I can’t count how many times I have already jerked off to her ‘bound by me’ video. And twice while enjoying a little self-bondage play, I watched her being taken by the four boys. To me, these are the most erotic porn films I have ever seen. So real. So very real. Too close to home. So hot. So very, very hot. I worry that I don’t have the only copies.

There was no ongoing recording of the Fair. Occasionally one of the masters would record on his phone some action when they knew something good was about to happen. I do have a few clips of me dancing on the pole. I have some of me taking fund-raising hits and strokes, the urinal gag drink, and my swaying stretched balls. There are also some shorts of our walking around from both tours. Good for the memories and helped a bit with the writing.

I know I was videoed and photographed at the Fair by hundreds of different people. I have scoured the web and social media. So far, I have not found anything of me posted. A relief. From the phone videos and still shots given to me by the boys, I know the hood, sunglasses and costume all did an excellent job of hiding my identity. I think I am completely safe from discovery. FYI, my anonymity, along with the masters and their friends, is provided in our contract agreement we have signed. It’s for everyone’s protection.

I have done much better this trip with handling my guilt from the ‘was it over the line’ internal struggle I have regarding the boys making me interact with women. What my best friend shared on the subject while I was on the bench did help. He could have left out the IcyHot.

A final comment on why I allow my bondage to go on past reasonable limits; why I let them take my general and sexual abuse to the point of torture; why I endure the mental games. It is a reasonable question to ask, and it is not easily explained.

One of the key rationalizations to me is that this servitude provides me with a release from the unbelievable build-up of stress I incur from my normal life of a strong, driven-to-success, goal-orientated, Type-A personality. (FYI, while successful at what I do in part because of my traits, I’m not a jerk, I am well liked by my customers, peers and subordinates. I think, however, without this release I could eventually become that jerk. I don’t want to be a jerk. I also don’t want to leave this earth prematurely due to a stress-induced heart attack. This play helps.)

I am highly competitive by nature. Today, that shows up in my entrepreneurial pursuits and business acumen. Back in my college days, that was evident in my cross country, track and swim team activities, always striving to win, holding numerous league records, elected as team captain. (The swim team is where I met Mike my freshman year.) I hate to lose. And so, when the masters try to beat me, be it physical or mentally, it is second nature for me to not only resist but to not let them win.

Another reason is my sexual fantasies for as long as I can remember revolves around bondage. I like it, it feels good, the tighter and more secure the better, being completely vulnerable to sexual assault, the best. Sick, right?

And then there are other factors, such as I think I owe the guys that helped me turn my fantasies into reality. They are BDSM Dom practitioners, restraining and abusing me is what sexually excites them. And so, I let them without restriction. Well, there are some, but anymore not many.

And there is the fact that they have copies of all the footage over the past two years of me servicing them in so many different perverted ways. It has never been threatened, not even suggested, that what they have recorded and kept could be used against me if I refuse to perform. But they could. I trust them, but I know they could ruin me.

Also, I know that once bound, I have lost ultimate control if my friends elect to turn on me. Safe words are meaningless if ignored. I know I could never prove a crime of kidnapping, rape, torture with all the films that show I voluntarily participated. I’d be to the cops just a sicko out getting his kicks who now has remorse or wants revenge. That potential risk adds to it all. So, I let them do what they want to do. I don’t want to cross them. Dangerous, exciting, isn’t it?

So collectively all these things and surely some others are my justification for letting them do what they do. I hope there will be future invitations to return to servitude so they can do it again. I need and want this.

Respectively submitted,

Sissy

Reviewed and approved for publication by:

Sir Michael, Master D, Dr. D.