On Display to Thousands

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 vibrater 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 Guess. 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.