Vegas Twelve to One, Daunting Odds

“You really enjoyed her, didn’t you? You know, I didn’t hear any of your Masters or the Mistress granting you permission to cum. I think you are going to wish you had. I guess you didn’t know how serious of a breach of conduct that is in the BDSM world, your new world. I have decided your atonement will be a short pony ride and you are going to ride it now.” (For the record, it wasn’t a short ride, and it wasn’t only a pony ride.) I was released from the bed restraints with the wrist and leg cuffs left on, then pulled up and stood in front of the bed where the wrists cuffs were then locked together behind my back, with no one seeming to be overly concerned about my drippy and lightly cum covered limp dick dangling in front of me. I was escorted over to the ominous wooden horse. The horse had been rolled over and placed near the cable winch equipped with the bar and suspension cuffs. The leather cuffs on my wrists were removed and I was buckled into the suspension cuffs.

Standing now with my arms pulled up in the air, they begin to attach multiple electro devices to me, letting me examine each one with my eyes before applying them so I will know exactly how I will be punished for my indiscretion. My cock and balls are first to be outfitted, with the masters selecting two electro-loops, those thin conductive rubber tubes that can be pulled tight around things like cock shafts. They ignore my sticky dick and lasso my penis about midway with one and then loop the other around my sack capturing both balls, pulling both loops snug and connecting the electric leads to the tubes. Next, I’m shown a large electro bullet that they smeared with electro-conductive gel. They reach behind, and with a little search probing they find the opening and the bullet is pushed into and is swallowed by my butthole with the wire leads protruding from it.

From my own home electro play I was familiar with both of those toys but the next one I don’t recognize. And I am not happy when they tell me what it is, an electro urethral insert. I take a long hard look at it. Seemly made of silicone, metal and plastic, it has an adjustable noose-style plastic loop that incircles the head of the penis and secures at the bottom to hold it in place. Connected to this loop at the top and bottom is another plastic loop arranged to go over the urethra slit. There are three small gold conductive balls threaded onto this loop, the middle one having a one and one-half inch long insertable urethra pin with a diameter that looks to be of about one-sixth of an inch (my engineering trained eye coming into play as I size this up). They squirt what they tell me is Surgilube into my urethra. Then carefully, but with full intention of seating it in me, slide the pin down my pipe so it completely disappears except for the three gold balls that are now pressed up against the slit and penis head. The adjustable noose around my head is then snugged up. The pin feels funny in me and the light pressure from the loop pressing against my slit and the tightness around my head lets me know it’s not coming out on its own. My original fear of sitting on the horse edge has shifted to the electrode in my now semi-erect cock.

Finally, I am shown the copper conductive topper of the horse which replaces the passive one that was there during my tour. Sitting on a shelf built into the bottom of the pony are two ErosTek ET312B electro power units, the Cadillac of electro controllers. I would love to own one, but they are ridiculously expensive and no longer available. I know they are extremely versatile in electro play with lots of different effects, some intense and severe which has me very anxious at the moment knowing the attachments I have been fitted with. They plug the leads from all the toys into the units.

They are not quite finished. One of my nipples is pulled and twirled between Master’s fingers and then he attaches a sinister nipple clamp. This style has two stainless steel bars that each partially encircles the nipple and are connected by adjustable screws with ball ends that give me a strong pinch as he screws both sides down tight. He pulls outwardly on the clamp, and it holds tight on the nipple. My other nipple is then clamped. Master then loops and ties a length of leather cord around each clamp and gives each a strong tug to make sure the clamps will hold.

The last thing done is the half hood I am wearing is removed and replaced with the leather hood I was asked to bring from home, laced up and buckled tight with the blindfold snapped on taking my sight away and mouth gag put in my mouth and inflated enough to essentially make me mute. “You’ll likely be screaming by the end of the hour. The suffering is yours to internalize, we won’t want to hear you,” says Master.

I must have been given a final look over as it is announced by Master, “He’s ready.” The winch is engaged, and the cable ascends up and I am pulled off the floor causing immediate stress to my arms and shoulders. As I am being raised, I feel my two legs grabbed and pulled outward, so a space is created between them. Apparently, they raise me high enough that I can clear the top of the horse with my crotch. I sense the pony being pushed between my legs as it lightly brushes against one of them, and I believe I am now positioned in the center of the horse. I hear Master say to lock the casters so the unit will not roll, and the cable is lowered and so that my crotch comes to rest squarely on the triangle point and takes all my body weight. They then place an adjustable spreader bar through the open space of the horse and connect each of my ankle cuffs to it, adjusting the width so that my legs just barely touch the side panels and as such they will not be able to help in holding my weight by squeezing against the sides with my thighs. The cords on my nipple clamps are pulled out and downward stretching my nipples painfully outward and pulling me forward. They are tied off I assume to one of the rings on the front of the horse. Lastly, my arms are further lowered so that my upper arms are in line with my shoulders, jutting outward horizontally, leaving my elbows bent with my lower arms vertical. This position makes it so that I have my balance but have minimal ability to pull myself upward to gain temporary relief or repositioning due to natural strength limitations of my arm positions. What little I do have will take all my strength and energy I can muster and will be fleeting. Even so, it did allow me to seek some momentary relief to my crotch two maybe three times over the duration. This little advantage helped to get me through the worst of it.

“For what you have done you shall ride this horse for one full hour. That will give you ample time to reflect on your transgression. The electro devices are in automatic mode and both power units independently programed, with their channels set to come on randomly, selecting from the six modes available. They are also adjusted to ramp up over time. Some modes you may find slightly tolerable, others surely not. Some mild, some intense. None of this is meant to bring you pleasure, only the suffering you know you deserve and once said you desired, will see. I have full confidence you will never forget this lesson. The clock starts now,” is Master’s final words.

An hour, oh my God, a whole hour? I will never survive this.

It probably was a good two minutes before I received the first jolt, giving me ample time to feel the painful pressure building between my legs from the rail. It is impossible to get comfortable, although I try. This abuse of riding the horse is more often used on women. I have no idea how they can survive the crushing and pinching of the lips and clit of their pussies knowing the building discomfort I already have on the flat, smooth surfaces of my perineum and scrotum. It is better for me to not move for as long as I can as my resting point tends to numb up after a while and that reduces the ache some. Moving gives a fresh pain spot and pinching. The electro shocks are now hitting the different toys. Some are pain/pleasure events, others are excruciating, and so random as to where they shock and how they shock. I want to ready myself, but I can’t get acclimated to them. I thought the urethra ones would be worse, and while they are no picnic, I have even more trouble with the shocks to my balls and shaft. E-stim doesn’t leave marks or bruises like other BDSM play can, but it’s suffering rivals any other torture. And these attacks are to my most vulnerable and sensitive body parts.

I want it to stop. Please make it stop, I’m sorry for what I did. I want to cry. And I continue my ride in silence.

There is no way that the E-stem sensations can be accurately communicated, they can only be experienced to fully appreciate them. However, Sir Michael insists that I try describing them. In my own electro play, when set to deliver reasonably gentle to moderate shocks, my body releases endorphins and sends a signal to my brain giving me a feeling of simultaneous pain and pleasure. Some programing rhythms sent to a deeply inserted rectal bullet can cause an overwhelming ecstasy emulating inside the body as the muscles contract, relax and spasm causing my entire body to shake, tremble and shiver as if I am experiencing an everlasting climax ending only when the charge is stopped which pushes me to reach a mental state of bliss. Increasing the level and intensity can be rewarding but more likely punishing to the possible point of excruciating pain, at times the goal in BDSM. My masters here have set the programing all over the map, driving me insane. The electricity is making my muscles twitch without control, mixing pain with a feeling of helplessness. There are at times a sharp, burning feeling, the zaps causing twitching, pulsing, thrusting, a muscular throbbing feeling. Some start out mild and grow to a point where I’m screaming, although because of the effective gag, all I think can be heard is muffled, unintelligible sounds. Other hits are at full power, lifting me off the horse and slamming me back down re-crushing my tender crotch. The senses I feel are tingling, prickling, vibrating, buzzing, knocking. In any order, or solo, again from mild to intense levels that make my eyes well up, maybe even bulge out. You try to push back a bit to no avail. You never know what is coming next. There is fear in the wait for the next shock to hit to deal with along with the pain. At times vibration and shocks give a feeling of burning skin being sucked, as it is moved about my skin and muscles. You can feel the pain travel, it will start at the root of my cock and migrate slowly along the entire shaft till it reaches the head.  Other times it seems to start on my butt but then it moves to my balls then cock rapidly and then back again. There was one particular mode where when the current flows into my muscles and nerve endings, the surges cause a powerful and erotic throbbing, a coarse bah-bah-bah-bah-bah-boom and this goes on continuously in repetition. It bounces me up and down on the horse as if I am riding at a gallop, jarring my pelvic girdle to rival the electric pain in my muscles. I recall another that I prefer to forget where it starts as a mild, pleasant sensation building slowly to something extremely painful and gliding back down again to pleasant, a cruel ride.

Many of the assaults were with only one device being powered up, other times there were multiple toys firing off, sometimes with similar stimulation modes, but more often with conflicting sensations. The bare powerful painful shocks always overriding whatever else was occurring. There were even times when all four devices were lit up at once, and depending on the modes, I may feel refreshing arousal or sheer agony blasting everywhere in the region.

I want to go home. Honest, I’m sorry, please, please make it stop says my mind. My ride continues as all I can do is scream and moan into my gag.

But I am not just being tortured by electricity. I am sitting on a device designed to rival, possibly surpass, the pain the E-stem is contributing. Both forms of torture are bad, but the combination seems worse. The shocks make the body jump and convulse. As I said, when that happens, I uncontrollably rise and slam back onto the point. It’s not inches I rise, more like a fraction of an inch, but it takes numbness back to pain and ache. These movements also cause a hard tug on my nipples bringing their pain into the mix. Some of the jolts are raw straight fire, like I experienced in San Diego when they were testing my limits. In my now delirium, I don’t know if they are higher level shocks. They shouldn’t be as that would be questionable conduct per the contract, but with all the combined effects of both tortures I don’t know, I just don’t want it.

While some of the patterns and rhythms they are running aren’t providing ecstasy in me like I get when I play at home, they are of pain/pleasure mode and not pure agony. Before I can enjoy that particular shudder, the next shock is coming in from any or all of four places, destroying what little pleasure was being created. I want to blame my abusers, but actually it is simply a function of the random generator in the control box programming. There are times when all the electro devices are silent, sometimes lasting minutes. These provide a needed respite, but the high anxiety of the anticipation of the imminent restart plays with the mind making this wait time equally cruel.

The agony from the pointed rail on which I sit on the other hand is constant. It is always there. I can’t get away from it. Its level of pain in the form of ache grows as time wears on. It is pinpointed where the contact is and radiates outward. It first attacks the skin layers, then the thin muscles below and finally consuming the bone. It is a crushing hurt. Numbness in time does divert pain to ache, but neither is pleasant nor provides the euphoria of sexual plain/pleasure. And of course, its companion electro shocks cause violent body movements upon the rail, causing my crotch to hit it time and time again along with pinching when other electric movement sends me side to side versus up and down.

As weird as it sounds, I almost want to try riding again, less the electric play, to see its individual effects, a test that need not go for an hour. From sounds I heard earlier of one of the other subs taking a ride, it truly sounded daunting as a standalone. There is no need for electricity, but my many masters here take pleasure in it, so I endure both to serve them.

Despite wanting a single ride someday, I want this session all to stop and be over now. This is absolute suffering. Calling my safe word ‘Red’ to end it certainly enters my thoughts when some of the intense pure straight electric shocks are being blasted into my butt or cock or across my crack and upper thighs or from the constant agony of the unyielding point on which I sit, but I oddly dismiss that action because somewhere in my sick wondering thoughts, I feel that I do deserve to be punished harshly. To someone not undergoing this crazy weekend, that thought is unconceivable, but I have somehow rationalized my torture in the deep recesses of my mind to reach the ridiculous conclusion that I rightfully merited this treatment.

I think I got to that conjecture from the combination of three independent thoughts; one, that at least for this weekend I really am accepting a BDSM submissive existence, not just role playing and this is part of that commitment; two, that I agree I deserve correction for the announced transgression called out by Master of not getting permission to climax, which I knew was a rule; and three, the disconcerting issue that this Mistress, while arguably a man but surely in her mind a women (and perhaps in mine), did sexually excite me, taking me too close to the line than I am comfortable with regarding my thoughts on infidelity as well as my sexual identity. I’m troubled that there was no sexual attraction to the other men here, as they are all clearly men to me, but with her there was. My sexual gratification this weekend had been so far from my fetish of being forced to be sexually used by these men while bound and unable to resist. With ‘her’ though there was arousal beyond just being bound and forced to endure her use of me. So, with those thoughts merging I find a way, both mentally and physically, to accept and endure the onslaught of torture the masters have arranged in retribution for the disobedient and sinful acts I have committed while I served as a submissive to them.

There is one other reason for not using my safe words, pride. There are twelve other men here. It doesn’t matter, gay or straight, they are men. I don’t want to wimp out in front of them saying what they are doing to me, what they enjoy doing to each other regularly, is something I can’t handle. And I have witnessed already this weekend they can and do handle it. Egos can cause a man to do very stupid things. So, I rode the electrified horse.

The ordeal goes on forever, forever being a full hour. As warned, the intensity does ramp up as it continues. This is probably attributed to both a combination of the actual Eros Tek programing and the cumulative nature of this torture on the body and mind, like compounding bank interest. At the end it begins to snowball, and I am close to delirium with my mind in a deep trance when the electrocution abruptly stops. Quickly, with multiple hands, my legs are unclasped from the bar, my nipples untied from the ring, electro leads disconnected, and my body raised off the horse and it is pulled from under me allowing my legs to collapse together. “Your hour is up, you served your penance,” says Master in a nonchalant tone. 

Although free of the wooden horse apparatus, just to add a little additional torment to the past hour’s agony, they connect my ankle cuffs together and leave me suspended there in the air from my wrists. There is discomfort about a minute in, first in my shoulders and that then migrates down my arms and goes up and down my sides. Even with the use of suspension cuffs there is pressure on my wrists as they are solely supporting my one-hundred-and-seventy-pound frame. At about the two-and-a-half-minute mark discomfort is increasing to the painful threshold, but my concentration on this predicament is diverted to a new pain as someone begins to whip my rear with a riding crop, rapidly, effectively, with not a spot on either cheek being skipped. My natural reaction is to buck away from the strikes which send me swinging, acerbating my hanging pains. The whipping is in a solid competition for my pain attention, but as even my armpits and neck are beginning to hurt, the totality of hanging pain is winning. At about five to six minutes, the whipping attack stops abruptly, and I am lowered into a heap on the floor. I learn later that it was Mistress that felt that her own personal punishment was warranted and was the one who delivered it.