Vegas Twelve to One, Daunting Odds

Evidently there was no urgency for me to be back inside as I was left on my pole for what I guess was another half hour. I was finally retrieved by Host Master’s sub who unlocked the ankle cuffs and release the pole extension and slid it down, pulling the dildo from my abused butthole. “Come on, we need to get you ready to be our party favor. You need a shower and a cleansing.” I am taken back inside all the way to the wet room, hands still cuffed and hood on. There I was restrained as before to receive the same basic cleansing and shower routine I had been subjected to this morning. I also had my penis held as I peed into the plastic urinal. The humiliation of it all is tough to bear.

I am left hanging in the shower bay to drip dry for about fifteen minutes. I’m then shown an intimidating black heavy leather discipline hood. It has metallic rings around the eyes and mouth. It laces up the back and tightens more by three fierce looking lockable leather buckle straps with the neck collar belt provided with 3 D-rings. The eyes can be covered by an attachable blindfold, while the mouth can be stuffed with its silicone gag, each held in place by using the upper leather belts. He puts it over my still damp hair that he had just combed and laces it up getting a glove like fit around my head, face and upper neck. Next, he buckles down the neck belt and puts the blindfold on and buckles that down too. He keeps me without the gag, at least for the time being.

I am mostly dry now and I am detached from the shower chain, hands cuffed behind me and led back into the main play area. There am positioned under what I discover is the cable winch that is equipped with the cross bar and suspension cuffs.  The cuffs are removed and my wrists are attached to the suspension cuffs. Another set of leather cuffs are fastened around my ankles and locked to a spreader bar which is extended out about three feet. The winch is then retracted till I am stretched up so that my heels are raised up, but my toes and soles of my feet are still in contact with the floor, but just barely.  My body is taught. I recall this apparatus was in the center of the dungeon. My guess is I was put here as I will now be at the ‘center’ of the dungeon’s entertainment.

“Everyone is out on the deck about to eat dinner, so I am going to quickly feed you so I can join them.” The first entrée of my two-course meal is squeezed into my mouth, another toddler baby food pouch, this one definitely a veggie pouch. The second course is an energy bar that I take small bites, chew, and swallow as it is held up to my mouth. It is followed by a whole bottle of water.  He adds his final touches to his party favor by hanging two items from the rings on my collar, I can’t tell for sure but as they dangle against my chest, they feel like a riding crop and a flogger. Do we really need to provide both the suggestion and convenience to our visiting tormentors? And, then he is off to enjoy his dinner and socialization. He doesn’t say goodbye nor good luck or have fun, he just leaves. I hear both doors being closed and locked.

More time to think about all the things in this room that could be used against me. On one hand it is exhilarating for me, it is the stuff that I fantasize about when a practice self-bondage or when I do the occasional masturbation in the shower. But on the other hand, this stuff is real and meant to restrain and then torture the victim, me. Shortly, it will all be real and not a fantasy. I remember San Diego. Now I will be with pros. I will be made to suffer and serve; how much I will know soon. I hang for almost an hour, I think, before the sound of the doors being reopened startles me back to the reality that it is time.

It is not a stampede, from the sound of it they come in as small groups. I waited, but not long for the first interaction. It comes via touching. Someone is inspecting me. They are rubbing my body with their hand. The wondering hand moves across my chest, over my shoulder, down my back. Then up my crack with a finger, over my hips and down to my penis and testicles that are fondled, enough that my dick even stirs just a bit. Then back up my chest to where he finds an interest in my nipples. The whips hanging from my neck appear to be in the way and he maneuvers them around, so they are now hanging down my back. Now unblocked, he starts nicely caressing my nipples one at a time, but that moves on to light pinching, pulling and twisting. He moves to doing both simultaneously and as this becomes more zealous my body reacts and tries to pull back. The immediate discipline for pulling back is nipple clamps. My nipples, one at a time, are pulled out taught and twirled between his fingers, followed by the distinct painful feel of a clamp being applied. These are of the twist down type having an outer circle frame that holds two inter textured plates that take a firm grip on two sides of the nip and are cranked down tight together with an adjustable thumb screw. This design allows the tormentor to continue to tighten together the grip plates to whatever nipple pressure and pain level that amuses him. I am being attacked in stages, a turn of two at time, then a wait for the reaction, and after the pain appears to subside, another turn, maybe two.

 As one of the more painful adjustments is made, I unconsciously cry out in anguish. I hear, “You need him gagged?” There was an apparent nod yes, as I’m order by Sir Michael’s voice to open my mouth. The middle strap of my hood is removed. The sizable silicone gag is stuffed into my oral cavity. The detached strap is threaded through belt loops of the gag’s outer leather covering and then reapplied around my head and buckled tight, forcing the gag deep and unyielding into my mouth. I am relieved that it was applied by my own master, he will keep a close eye on me gagged as I am.

I think I have tough nipples and pain control, but it is not too many cycles more of tightening when my he knows he has won, and my lesson learned. That doesn’t mean he then takes them off or lets off some of the pressure and he doesn’t.

This user abandons me, and it is a couple of minutes till my next visitor stops by. Must be a butt enthusiast because that’s where he spends his time. Initially it is just rubbing my checks and running a finger up and down my crack. He then reaches for some lube, greases up his finger and slips inside me. (I don’t have any idea where he got it from, I will come to find during the weekend that lube is near at hand pretty much anywhere in the playroom.) He explores. Then he uses two fingers to explore and caress my colon. Not a first-time explorer he finds my prostrate and after some quality fondling starts to excite the area enough that my cock takes notice and grows, not rigid, but in the game. He must have notice, as he reached around with his other hand and begins to play with my dick and balls. Now I am hard, and I feel my body trying to move in motion with his front hand work. He increases his back door efforts while stroking my member for a minute or two more and then abruptly stops. It takes a few seconds for my own body motions to stop. I had been rising up and down on my toes, the only real movement I had with the restraints that held me. I was expecting a punishment for that, but none really came.

I can hear activity around me. I know I am going to be used all weekend, but I am not an exclusive play toy. There are four Doms and four subs here by my count, plus, Sir Michael and the hosts. They are here to fulfill their kinks and pleasure themselves. When I can be useful as the object of a particular desire for them, I will be utilized. Otherwise, they will be amusing themselves and each other in this awesome, dastardly place. I try to listen to the sounds, one to distract myself from ongoing thoughts and the body aches from the stress of the bondage, the other because I have a vested interest in what may be happening to other submissives on the floor. From the conversations, it sounded like a sub is about to be subjected to riding the wooden horse. I have compassion for his plight. Then again, if these guys are as heavily into BDSM as they appear, maybe this is something he is looking forward to, besides, I’m sure this isn’t the first time the horse has been used here.

My attention is drawn back to my own situation as someone is asking, “Can he be dropped down to his knees, I’d like to use his mouth.” The reply, “Yeah, but he’s gagged right now, you have to take that out.” “Then never mine, I’ll just use his butt for a while.” Whoever this has come around to my back. My bottom is fondled a bit, them a hand is put around my waist to hold me while I am penetrated not so gently by a dildo. It seems like one of the natural shaped dongs with a hand grip extend from it. I am pegged with it for almost five minutes, sometimes in a slow motion, sometimes fast and furious, always deep enough to be uncomfortable, at times painful. I don’t really know anal/rectal canal anatomy well, but I think there are two chambers, it feels like he is penetrating into the second room. I worry, but then think they likely would not sell these if the length would harm you. So, I suffer in silence. He stops I assume because his arm gets tired. Turns out that it was because he wanted to put his own cock in there. The dong was to loosen me up. Standup penetration in the butt isn’t easy, but the attempt is made, with penetration accomplished, and fucking action somewhat achieved. I can tell he isn’t getting much satisfaction out of this. I wonder if his real goal is to use me for the sake of my fantasy, not his enjoyment. I appreciate it in a weird way. He stops after a short fuck session, gives me two hard smacks with his hand, one on each cheek, says “Thanks for the free fuck, Cunt,” and wonders away.

Unfortunately for me someone has finally taken notice of the whips hanging from my hood. The riding crop has been selected and the initial target is my butt, where three precise hits are landed on the lower portion of my right cheek. The same location on the left cheek is then punished. He moves lower catching the rear of my right inner thigh with this hit also coming from behind. Two more are landed. These strikes are slow, intentional, calculated, both the intensity and landing spot. He continues with the left side and when done moves around me. The front of my inner thighs receives the same strikes. Every one of them stings when they land and takes more than a few seconds to dissipate. Painful as these are, the real test of my ability to absorb this torture session comes next and I fail. The next series is delivered to my scrotum. The angle of swing is adjusted so the three hits will land squarely on the balls so maximum effect can be obtained. My legs collapse after this first hit finds its sweet spot and I am hanging solely by wrists. I scream out, but the very effective gag muffles it completely. He does not relent, just simply adjusting his swing again so hits number two and three find their target too. I just remain collapsed and hanging limp. Then with no comment or sign of any regret, he reattaches the crop to my hood and goes. 

It takes a good minute or two before I even attempt to stand up erect and get some of my weight back on my feet. I’m not sure if it was mercy or not, but I am left alone for maybe fifteen minutes. I feel my arms dropping as the cable is lowered. When there is enough slack to allow it, I am told to get down on my knees and I do. The cable height is set to keep my arms still in the air. I feel the buckle of my gag being undone and the gag is pulled from my mouth and as it is I’m ordered to keep my mouth open. The insertion gag is immediately replaced with a large ring gag that is forced behind my teeth and buckled behind my head. I own ring gags as part of my home toy collection, but this one is wider than mine. My jaw feels stretched. Of course, there is a reason for the gag as someone has stepped up in front of me and put his prick through the ring into my defenseless oral opening. He makes a few somewhat awkward thrusts and says, “Can you pull him up some, he’s too low for me to fuck his mouth.” Someone else takes control of the winch and I am pulled up about a foot. This raises my knees off the ground. My feet are angled out behind me still cuffed to the spreader bar and can provide just minimal support. I try to stand up some, but my tormenter pushes down on my shoulders holding me at the height I’ve been set at. His rock-hard cock is again pushed into my mouth, and he is now able to fuck it properly. But I am almost completely suspended by my wrists that remain connected to the bar above me with suspension cuffs. These cuffs help, but my shoulders and arms start to burn after about a minute. “Lick it Bitch. You need to lick it, try to use your lips.” With the extra size ring gag the lips can’t make contact. I try to concentrate on getting him off and not on my arms. I’m thinking the quicker I can get him out of my mouth the quicker they will let me out of this position. I’m trying my best to not call out Yellow. My tongue action on his shaft is doing something. “There you go, you can suck dick or at least lick it, I knew you could.” But he’s still pushing down on my shoulders which is helping me fail quickly in my hanging. I try to push through my arm agony which is now radiating down my sides. I use my head to bob forward and back trying to make contact with my lower lip that I am pushing up and out the best I can. It’s only been a short time, probably four minutes or less, my arms would claim it was hours, and I feel him start to tense up. He slows and I think he going to cum. But instead, he makes a few last glides across my tongue, and he pulls out. “Good job Bitch, you really got me close. Too early to blow a load yet. OK, take him back up if you want.” And I am pulled back up to a standing position.