On Display to Thousands

“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 42^nd 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 7^th and 13^th 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 venders 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 vender 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 swells. 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 vender 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 vender 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.