Eight Days in a Binding Contract

Late Tuesday evening. The first thing I notice as they take me through the sliding door to outside is that it is cool. The sun has been down for some time. I have no idea how late it is, but I assume it is late evening. I know Sir Michael host’s events well into the night. I’m not sure where we are headed as it could just be here in the atrium or to the dungeon. I can and have been bound and/or tortured in either place. It could also be planned for me to serve as entertainment for them in other ways. I’m guessing the atrium is my destination due to the prep work that I was required to do in the space this morning. I prove myself right as I am moved to what I guess is the center of the deck, just where I know a rope waits at the ready for me.

Being able to hear the fellas talking is not a gift. Hearing what is to transpire before it happens to you raises the stress level as you wait. I hear Sir Michael talking about the cuffs being attached to my wrists. He says be borrowed these ‘suspension cuffs’ from ‘Joe,’ whoever that is. Suspension cuffs are made to allow a victim to be pulled up off the ground without damaging their wrists. ‘Off the ground’ is not something I want to experience at this point. What is being attached to me are fur lined cuffs that surround my wrists then rise up through my hands with what feels like thick leather straps. I can feel two heavy and wide buckle straps around each wrist being fastened. My arms are then pulled a little upward and the cuffs are attached to what I must assume is the carabiner I attached to the rope earlier. Heavy cuffs are then put around my ankles. I’m told to spread my legs wide which I do. I hear chains being moved around then feel my ankle cuffs being locked to the chains. I try to pull my legs together, but they will not close. One of the guys ask, “Do you need the gag back in?” To which Sir answers “Yes, I’ve got neighbors. I can’t have my bitch screaming out here.” Screaming? What the hell are they planning on doing to me? I’m told to open my mouth and the gag is put in, snapped on and pumped up till my mouth is full and I am soundly muffled. Then someone says, “He’s ready” and my arms start to rise in front of me, then up into the sky, my hands are side by side above my head. The rope is still effortlessly pulling me up till my feet just start to leave the ground, they stop pulling up when I am standing on the base of my toe pads with my ankles still held spread wide. I am in a classic taut suspension position with just my toes touching the ground and my arms carrying most of my body weight. I struggle with the position, but I am still touching which is way better than completely hanging from my wrists, the straining toes take their share of my weight.

“His silhouette looks so pretty with your deck lighting.” The boys seem to be settling in for a relaxing time on the deck, likely each sitting on the deck chairs there. And they are chatting about all kinds of things. I am often the subject as Sir Michael talks about what has been done to me so far this week. Part of the conversation included what toys I brought with me. One that intrigued one of the guys was my Lovense vibrators. He said he loved to see what it does to me and as a result my larger one was lubed up and pushed unceremoniously into my butt hole. They spent a good fifteen minutes running through different vibration routines I had downloaded on my phone having a great time watching my reactions. It nice to have good feeling down there following some of the previous use that has occurred in my butt. The feeling got even better when somebody kneeled in front of me, fondled my balls and began to suck me off. Not to the point of climax, but I did worry about it happening and the potential associated discipline. He was good at his craft and knew when to back off. When he got up from me, I heard him say to the others, “He’s very nice, I may go back later. You got another Coke?” Eventually they bored of watching me and switch to other conversations, but the plug stayed on running a very arousing program.

From the conversations and other sounds, tonight was to them nothing more than a bunch of gay friends getting together for socializing and a little sex. This time there just happened to be a bound straight guy hanging from the ceiling for them to be entertained by if they wanted. During one of their general conversations, I hear one of the guys ask, “Mike you still got that sling hanging in your garage?” Apon hearing a yes response the group started to move to dungeon. “Let him down so he is flat on his feet,” Sir Michael says, and I was lowered a couple of inches and then my gag is removed. Then I was left by myself, the vibrator still churning away. They return in what I guess was twenty minutes. Boys will play.

They are back to socializing. I listened to another conversation where Sir Michael was describing my sleeping arrangements, that being that a slept in his shower stall with chastity on and my wrists bound in front of me with a wool blanket and small pillow. One of the guys commented, “You let him have a blanket? Then what’s the point in having sleep on the tile?” An ‘oh crap’ shiver went down my spine as I thought that remark may come back to haunt me.

Another conversation involves the Pillory which they saw while in the Dungeon. Sir Michael went on and on what a good cunt I was will patiently waiting for his business to conclude. My good behavior was in part due to the spikes pressing into my manhood and ball sack. Their interest was perked by that, and they wanted to see it and after handling the device they wanted to see what the reaction was from the submissive is when it was tightened down. So, I was adorned twice this day with a steel cylinder lined with 28 points jabbing me in the dick. This time Sir placed it near the head of my dick instead of the base of my shaft. This lower position and no video stimulation caused my dick to hang down with its added weight.

Even flat footed, muscle fatigue had long set in from my stretched hanging position and side show entertainment for the boys. It must be noticeable, as one of the guy’s say, “Your bitch looks like he’s ready, should we start?” Works for me,” is the reply from someone, I know it wasn’t me. ‘Let’s get started', the evening activities so far have just been an appetizer? I found out soon enough what they planned to ‘start’ and why I needed the gag which was put back in my mouth and pumped. “Take him up” I’m first raised back up on my toes. I didn’t see them but when I felt them hit me, I knew I was being struck by the multiple strands of a leather flogger, no make that two floggers. I am defenseless from the attack and perfectly positioned to sustain flawless hits. They are not whipping me full force as there isn’t a need.

Most are light to moderate strikes continuously being applied in repetition, first a hit to my chest, striking my right nipple, then a hit to my back between my shoulder blades, next a hit to my left chest at the nipple and ending the cycle with the whip swinging in from behind and between my legs so that it’s swing assaults the underside of my butt, balls and dick. Again and again, not hard, but constant. It stings.

They are looking for my breaking point, even though they are delivering light hits, it does take a little time for me to cry out a very gag-muffled “Yellow, please, Yellow,” but it does come. They had been listening for my call out and as soon as they heard it, stopped.  Someone comes up to me and soothingly rubs my nipples and balls. A few minutes pass before my breathing and heart rate comes down and the subsiding pain levels out in the pain-pleasure realm.

“How are you doing,” Sir Michael asks. I think for a second or two and reply as best I can through the gag, “Green”. “Are you OK to go again?” “Green.” And within a few seconds my body is again lit up. The same low velocity hits, but because of the repetition the effects become intense even though the individual hits are not severe ones. I am having trouble understanding this, but I am determined to bare as much of this as I can. I suck in air and hold my breath. And I do better in that I lasted longer, but when I again hit the endurance wall, through the gag I holler “Yellow” and they immediately stop. I’m given the time I need to recover which takes longer this time as my privates and thighs are aching. The Green questioning again occurs, and we are back to the assault. This goes on for four rotations. Upon the end of the fourth round, when they stop after a begged yellow, I hear “OK he has paid his penance to you, drop him back down,” And I am lower down so that my feet are flat on the ground, but my arms are still fully extended vertical. The gag is deflated.

Penance? “Cunt, my friends came here tonight to be entertained and serviced by you because you wanted to be subservient to me and my friends. When they needed to seek your approval to be pleasured by you in a manner that they wanted it required us to ask your permission. My friends and certainly me, your Dominant should never have been put in that position, it was embarrassing to me and them. If you simply had the forethought to put those items on your lists before signing your servitude contract this all could have been avoided. I’m not required to tell you why you were punished but I want to. You received Round One for me conducting a vote on towels. You received Round Two for me having to have a vote on a threesome. Rounds Three and Four were one each for embarrassing each my two good buddies.”

Now I’m not stupid, I know the speech, the punishment and the two requests requiring votes are bogus. This was contrived to make my experience what I wanted it to be. An orchestrated and staged performance all for me. I’m sure the plan goes all the way back to when he put the ‘voting requirements’ into the contract weeks before I came. I’m sure some of this was improvised tonight as they went along, but that speech, it sounded like he had a script he was reading from. Bless his heart.

The evening goes on. Nothing more severe happens for a while. Gay guys apparently like to pull and twist nipples as an amusement as mine were often manhandled in such a way as they would pass by me. I’m not clear in my mind when they did it, but sometime while I was hanging, my nipples were treated to a pair of screw down nipple clips. I could feel the chain that connected them to each other dangling down and touching my chest. Every few minutes someone would screw them down a bit tighter or pull out on the chain. The slow progression tightening made the crushing of my nipples bearable, that is until they removed them about a half an hour later. The removal hurt like hell as the blood rushed back in. Their squeezing and twisting of my nipples that they felt I needed for the next two or so minutes after they came off didn’t help.

The vibrator plug was still in my hole, but it was no longer amusing me. Its battery is only good for about two hours, and I have been secured to the atrium beam and deck for much longer than that.  As I hang there, I listen to all the sounds as well as the conversation. I realize I’m hungry as I hear occasionally soda or beer cans pull tops being open or someone asking to pass the pretzels. I didn’t have dinner, just one that one energy bar and bottle of water before we started. By the way those beer and soda cans are shocking cold when they are rolled unexpectedly across the naked body of a bound and blind submissive.

The last significant torment I endured during Sir Michael’s party was also always in my master’s plans all along. One of the guests said, “He looks like he wants more torment, referring to me, shall we assistance him by taking his discomfort ‘higher’? Initially, I’m not sure what they are going to do to me, but I know it is about to start as my gag is reinflated till my mouth is again full and tight with the bulging dick bulb.

With a 5:1 lift ratio it takes almost no effort to lift a load. I had been flat on my feet for a long time now so the original pain from being on my toes at the start of my outside adventure was a distant memory. In short order I would long for only that pain. I felt my wrists being pulled and I am quickly hoisted up to my toes, but it didn’t stop. My toes now lose contact with the deck. The rope block and tackle makes nearly no noise as I am lifted even further. I am raised until the chains holding my ankles become taut as well as my body and limbs. My feet point to the deck as they are puled downward by the chains and my arms are clamped to the side of my head, held tight by the weight of my body as they are pulled upward by the rope.

It's hard to know the feeling of being suspended by one's wrists until it happens. It was far rougher than I had expected. There is tension through my shoulders and down my whole body. My breathing becomes difficult, and the mask and gag do not help the situation, limiting my ability to suck in what I need with a tight chest and ribcage. Discomfort starts first in my shoulders and migrates down my arms and goes up and down my sides. There is great pressure on my wrists as they are supporting my one-hundred-and-eighty-pound frame. There is no sway, none of the tethers have slack. Discomfort increases to the painful threshold, but not unendurable, yet.

They must have stood back to admire their work, as I hear one say. “He looks really hot suspended like that.” They don’t need to do anything to abuse me, the suspension can handle that task by itself. I think they may have sat back down as lite conversation about their plans for Friday night are discussed. I’m not really listening to what they are saying as 100% of my attention is on my hanging. I notice a cool breeze cascading over my body, yet I feel like I’m sweating. My endurance is being tested; the word yellow is forming in my mind. I feel pain in strange places not tested so far this week, like in my armpits and the back of my neck.

I begin to understand why I don’t see very many people suspended by just their wrists on BDSM websites, it’s fiercely challenging. There is an intense burning in my taut arms. I try every which way I can to move my body around, anything to lessen the deepening pain. There is flexing but no real movement. My muscles are burning. I instinctively try to look up at my wrists for a way to escape, of course seeing nothing, I am blindfolded. I try diverting my mind to any other thoughts but with my suffering, but I cannot. My respirations are getting faster and shallow. I feel like I’m losing strength yet I’m not doing anything but hanging still. I think I am going to cry. The pain is so unusual, not sharp, not in anyone place, but overwhelming. Time seems to stand still. I have reached my limit, I want them to call it off, but my tormenters aren’t.

I scream “Yellow” at least my mind thinks it did. But as soon as I do I feel the tension from the chains on my ankles loosen and in a second or two my toes, then feet are on the deck. There is even slack from the rope between my wrists and the beam allowing my elbows to bend some and my shoulder drupe. Complete fatigue but also complete relief from pain. They clap, all three. What a strange response, I think. Also, apparently, they all were not sitting down because obviously someone had their hand on the feed rope and released me as soon as I called out. I found out later Sir Michael was my rope controller; he knew this would be a harsh trial and trusted only himself to have the reins. I am his best friend.

I had probably rested about five minutes when Sir Michael asked how I was. I know I was far from completely recovered but I was feeling much than I had been just a few minutes before. So, I replied “Green” and almost instantly I was being rehoisted back to the same extreme position. My mind first raced through the contract safe word rules. I thought after ‘Yellow’ I was to be asked to go on. No, that was with a ‘Red’. The combination my ‘Yellow’, then ‘Green’ was well within the contract rules and as I result, I’m back in pain. That little romp through the contract gave me at least a few seconds of break from flooding in emotions and torture as I was again suspended from my wrists and stretched tight by the chains holding me fast to the floor. All the sensations, discomforts, pains, breathing and hopelessness of the last hanging returned, pretty much in the same sequences and growing intensities. Only this time because my body was already drained it happened much faster.

This time when I reached my ‘let me down’ breaking point, I also knew I was done for the night, so I called out, “Red.”

I was dropped down to my feet again but the rope holding the suspension cuffs was lowered enough so my hands were at about waist height. As one person started to unbuckle my wrists another unlocked the chains from the ankle cuffs and helped me center my legs beneath me. He then took the cuffs off my ankles. Meanwhile, Sir Michael was behind me, deflating the gag and unsnapping it from my hood. The hood with its blindfold stays on so that his guests would remain anonymous to me. He then deeply rubbed my shoulders until his friends had me free of my other restraints. He guided me to the edge of a lounge chair and had me sit. He sat down behind me and delivered a needed deep tissue massage of shoulders upper back and arms. “You have a big day tomorrow, I don’t want you all knotted up,” was his explanation to me for the kind and much appreciated treatment. In bondage pain/pleasure after the pain goes, especially if it’s been rough, your mind can treat the undertaking in different ways. For me, this was a bondage activity. And even though it had lots of pain, experiencing what suspension was really like after scouting it out in photos and films on the internet for years made it all worthwhile. I don’t want to do it again, but glad I did it once.

Sir Michael got up, went inside and returned. He had my chastity device and my wrist cuffs and put them both on me. I would rather put the device on myself as he doesn’t have the same level of care that I do, and he catches my hair in the securing rings and posts that make up base. It is less hair snagging now that part of me down there is shaved. He also doesn’t always get my penis into its plastic shaft quite right either, especially if my dick is somewhat aroused and swollen by his touch and the Calais. He locks me in. As he is doing these tasks, he is also showing the guys what he is doing and having them assist. I know I am here to be their toy for the evening, but this feels creepy, like they are having a weird babydoll dress up party. Maybe it’s weird because I’m naked. I’m just tired.

Sir Michael then removes the lock on my hood and unbuckles the neck strap. He unties, then loosens but does not remove the hood. I still cannot see, which is what he wants. Sir Michael says to one of the other guys, “Can you take the cunt into the shower so he can go to sleep? Shut off the light and pull the door closed. Bitch can put himself to bed. And Cunt, don’t take your hood off till you hear the door close.” No big deal other than I need to pee bad and it will be pitch black in there. I’ll manage, I’ve done it a lot already this week. The door is pulled close behind me, I pull off the hood and I go pee. I then step into the shower stall feeling along the floor for my blanket and pillow, but they are not there. Son of a bitch. I had a feeling.

I stand there for a few minutes considering my options which are few. Basically, lay down on the cold tile and try to sleep or stand up all night. Can’t go sit on the toilet, Sir Michael uses it two to three times a night. If he found me on it when he enters, I may find myself hanging from the beam again. I’m used to navigating down to the floor with my hands tied in front with a blanket wrapped around me so that it protects me from the tile and covers me for the night. I can still get down, but it is shocking just how cold the walls and floor are. It’s not just cold, the bottom foot or so of the walls are still a little wet and so is the floor by the drain from an earlier shower. It could be anyone of them here tonight getting ready for what they do. Nothing is comfortable, but on my side is best. But I am miserable, even shivering. I can’t sleep and I’m exhausted. Today was a challenging day and all the activities, good and bad, are swirling through my mind. I’m thinking through how I’ll get the events down in my journal tomorrow morning. I can’t stand laying down anymore and I get up and stand. I find myself leaning back as I want to sleep but the cold contact the wall makes me wide eyed again. I give up and get back down on the floor. Not long after that, someone opens the door and enters, they say “If you are awake, keep your eyes closed.” And I do. Light is shinning in, but the light in my room is not turned on.

I know from some of this evening conversations I heard that they know what happens when Sir Michael pees at night and I’m deathly afraid I’ll be command to do the same now. But he finishes up and leaves, pulling the door shut. I’m again in the dark alone on the floor. The shivering has stopped. I think I am warming up the floor, or at least I’m tolerating it better. I still fear that hypothermia may come into play.

Still awake, I’m guessing about twenty minutes go by, maybe more when the door opens again. This time it is Sir Michael. He comes up to the edge of the shower stall and tosses my blanket at me as he says, “Here, my buddies have left. I was putting on the show for them, sorry about that. Here’s your pillow, get some sleep, tomorrow is your big day.”  Big day? What the hell was today? Not long after, I am sound asleep.