On Display to Thousands

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.