On Display to Thousands

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. Its 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.