On Display to Thousands

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.