Vegas Twelve to One · Part 11 (11/14)
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I learned later that it was Mistress that felt that her own personal punishment was warranted and was the one who delivered it.
Chapter 18: eXtra Special Rest and Recuperation
{Sunday 12:00 am – Sunday 2:00 am} I am allowed to just sit there and recover for about ten minutes. I ache between my legs, the pain still fresh from my brutal ride. It is lingering unlike my previous tortures and will continue to do so for a while. My wrists are still cuffed to the tethered suspension bar now hanging just above my head so I can’t get my hands down to my privates to try to message away the discomfort. The boys return following their short break and the suspension cuffs are detached. I automatically move my hands behind my back knowing they will soon be replaced with handcuffs of some sort. I am exhausted, mentally, and physically.
After the abuse my body just endured, I long for more time to recuperate. I want to go to bed and sleep. They removed my ankle cuffs and nipple clamps and with assistance I am stood up and walked to and leaned against what I came to find out is the horizontal X device. Mercifully, the gag is deflated and removed, significantly improving my outlook.
I am offered a beverage that I am told will help me get back some of my stamina. Master says it has both ginseng and ashwagandha in it, supposably popular herbal energy drink adaptogens, both of which I was unfamiliar with as I don’t use energy drinks. (I had to look them up to complete this reference in my journal, the first fights fatigue and increases energy, the second helps lower stress and anxiety, all things that were becoming an issue at that point). I suck it down with a straw. It doesn’t taste bad, but I have had better tasting drinks. I even think it did give me a boost; as I had been fading fast.
They leave the blindfold and hood on. The electro plug, bands and urethra sound also remain. My wrists are released. I am picked up by numerous hands and laid down face up on the flat cross and securely fastened to it. Leather straps cross my ankles, just below my knees, across my thighs, my hips, my stomach, across my chest just below and above my pecs, over my neck and across the bridge of my nose. All snuggly buckled. I cannot move.
I can’t believe they had not taken off the electro toys and I can feel them reconnecting the leads. How after the past hour could they shock me again? But it’s not like that. The program that starts is like the one I use at home that can drive me to the highs of sexual ecstasy. And this one is starting out slow and soft. It is soothing. All electrodes send similar mild pleasure and pain stimulations. I am having to adjust to the sensations that the sounding electro plug is injecting in my urethra as it has never had such arousal and by natural tenderness of the area the feelings are more intense even at the low settings and modes being sent.
The program is on a random timer, running for about three minutes and then going off for anywhere from two to six minutes before resuming. The setting I find in time is also set to ramp up as time passes. By the end I would be bouncing off the table in ecstasy if my restraints allowed, they don’t, so I fiercely strain against them instead as endorphins flood in causing a euphoria from the artificially created sexual bliss. This is not a reward, it is a different kind of punishment, as the body desperately wants to climax, and I can’t as I am unable to gasp my cock and the interruption of the program by the timer makes this a perfect edging manipulation.
I can feel my body arch up as my genitals are straining to self-masturbate or rub against anything to finish it.
I do my best to get some rest while this is happening, and during the earlier stages I doze off for short periods of time but the zaps regularly re-wake me and the effects of the drink are kicking in giving me a wide eye caffeine like effect. The electro interruptions are not the only ones I experience. At least three or four times, always when I am trying to catnap, a cock is set down on my lips and I am told to lick. They are not blow jobs per se, as the angle is not conducive for it, but a licking up and down the shaft that can still be pleasurable to the owner. I know twice it was Sir Michael’s. He also once straddled my face and ordered me to lick his balls and bag.
It was good to know he was still there watching over me despite the task. About halfway through someone put clothespins on my nipples and the pins stayed on for about a half-hour. There was also an occasion where a tourist with a multi-wheel Wartenberg pinwheel travelled all over my body. It happened soon after the clothespins had been removed and they made a special effort to cross over and run circles around the sore and tender nipples numerous times.
I was tied down for two hours. It was one of the best devices I had been bound to the whole weekend as I got necessary recuperation time, if not maybe a little sleep. I was pleased that the abuse was limited, and the stimulation in my groin, while frustratingly incomplete, were the most pleasurable device stimulation I had received.
Chapter 19: Doing My Time for an Unknown Crime
{Sunday 2:00 am – 4:00 am} My electro pleasure ended with a sudden, nasty one-time shock to all three toys. It was especially harsh as it was unexpected and so different from what they had been sending, the sound rod was murder. I was unbuckled from the X, hands cuffed, and the electro toys removed. I could tell when the sound was removed that my urethra was irritated from its lengthy three hour plus insertion. That irritation would continue to be noticeable each time I peed. It lasted for about two days as did the crack soreness from the horse rail.
I was moved to the dungeon cell and imprisoned. The shackles are cold black steel, at least an inch and a half wide and a quarter inch thick. They have pin style hinges and are locked closed with screw down omega loops. Each ring is fastened to the stone wall with thick black steel chains. First to be placed was the neck collar, followed by the wrists, legs and finally the waist. These were heavy, unyielding and for some reason made me become more aware of my nakedness. The chains allowed for some although limited movement. I was upright and would not be able to change that position. The cell door was closed and locked.
And there I stood. In time it would become tiring and uncomfortable. I was left alone to my thoughts and to take in the views and activities of the dungeon. I really wasn’t the only one here to be used and disciplined. I had seen many women in bondage videos tied down to a Sybian and made to endure its rotating dong in their pussies and the extreme vibration of their clits. I had never really thought of it as a toy to likewise abuse men. Yet protruding from the discipline wall has a Sybian unit about five feet off the floor. I watched as one of the subs was hoisted up over it and dropped down onto a large rubber penis that disappeared inside of him.
He squirms as he tries to get situated and comfortable on the Sybian’s textured vibration pad. His arms are secured by pipes wide of and above his shoulders. His neck is captured next and then his legs are spread wide, pressing his crotch and ball sack against the vibration pad. For good measure, they place tweezer clamps with little bells on his nipples. I then watch the show as three of the masters take turns adjusting the rotation speed and the vibration intensity on the machine, driving him wild. He does all he can to try and adjust his position but with the combination of his own body weight and the unyielding restraints he can do nothing but suffer his ecstasy.
About fifteen minutes into his ordeal the vibration gets the best of him, and he uncontrollably shoots his load from his rock-hard dancing cock. It goes all over the floor in front of him. It matters not at the moment because the masters have no intent on letting him down or shutting off the dastardly machine. This causes the sub intense discomfort as it is, I guess, like post milking a man after climaxing, very difficult to endure. The masters are having a great time at his expense. I’m glad it’s not me. I am wondering if later I will be forced to take a turn. When he is finally released, almost delirious and completely spent, he is made to lick up all his mess on the floor with his tongue.
He looked like he enjoyed that part of the ordeal.
Another sub had to also endure mechanical stimulation. He had taken my place on the chair. Firmly attached to his cock was the penis auto masturbator. Luckily, he wasn’t drinking pee or having his butt fucked as I did. The milking machine was going to town on his dick, and it wasn’t long till he shot his load. Of course, his tormentor kept the machine going full out as he squirmed against his binds, going nearly insane from the over stimulation of his expired member. I felt his pain and suffering and was relieved that this time it wasn’t me, but then annoyed that his master soon ended his torment before he even was forced to ejaculate a second time. My anguish had gone on and on.
The benches also get a lot of use. More than one sub was bound to them during my time on the wall. One sub was taking on both Sir Michael and his master, one using his mouth, the other his butt and they would rotate their positions periodically. I was impressed that the sub seemed to have no problem handling Sir Michael’s size in either hole. Sir seemed to be quite delighted regardless of which end he was working. I know orally I can’t do that for him. He did see me watching him and he waved, showing off, knowing he was in demand.
A sub is laid on the floor not too far from me and is maneuvered into a large black rubber vacbed, one of those bondage toys that with the air sucked out of the bag it collapses around the victim holding them skin tight. I had seen these on-line and was interested in seeing it used. It seemed like a kind of bondage I might enjoy. The bag had PVC tubes that made a rectangular frame that held the bag. With the sub placed on his back and centered in the open bag, they folded one side of the top over him. This had a mouth breathing tube assembly molded into the inside whose tube penetrated the outside of the bag by about four inches.
They put the mouthpiece into his mouth, laid the second side of the bag over him and sealed them together. The task of evacuating the air with an attached canister vacuum cleaner began. It went quickly and the rubber encased him tightly so you could see all his features including his ample package. It was interesting to see how tight the rubber was around his entire face, and his arms and legs, both of which were slightly spread, making the rubber press against all sides holding him tight. It seemed to me like a combination of stretch wrap bondage and rubber latex clothes. Seeing it live, I know I want to try this someday.
Well, I thought that until I saw them starting to do breath-play with him. They would sit beside him and put a thumb over the hole sealing off all his air, holding it until the sub would start to arch his body and buck. They would give him a quick breath and cover the hole again. This went on for numerous rotations and they would keep him fighting his bonds for a time before letting him breathe. I assume this was terrifying to the sub, but to people who like breath play, it may have been a rush for him. He was left alone in his bonds for maybe a half an hour. I don’t think there is much other play you could do with him. I would think a vibrator in him would be nice.
I don’t know how you could do electro play as there is nowhere for the leads to exit the suit. I guess you could whip him, but the bag would take on some of the sting and on the floor lying flat would be tougher to land good blows. As you can tell, chained to the wall I had plenty of time to contemplate these things.
Another activity that caught my attention was the boys going at it on the sling. Sometimes it was a Dom/sub thing with the sub cuffed to the chains, other times it was just two gay men enjoying themselves. One hookup was Sir Michael and the Host with Sir serving as the bottom. Both seemed to be having a grand time.
I was left alone on the wall for the entire time I was held, except for a single visit I had about halfway through my sentence. It proved to be quite unpleasant. “You ever use this at the gym? The penetrating heat is great for aching and strained muscles,” commented the older master, the one with the Corvette, as he showed me a container of Atomic Balm. Seemingly, the only muscle soreness he was concerned with was in my scrotum, as that is the only place he applied the handful he scooped from the tub with his surgical-glove-protected hand, rubbing it deeply into my pouch so it would surely awaken my testicles. He follows up with a dab on each of my nipples.
He left and locked the cell door as soon as he was done without saying anything more. Maybe on my shoulders this balm would have been beneficial, but on the skin of my straight blade shaved balls it is a burn that is building minute by minute to an excruciating level. The Vicks VapoRub that I was assaulted with in San Diego built to a level of unpleasantness, but manageable. This stuff is through the roof. All I want to do is cup my balls with my hands, wipe this crap off, and ice them down, but my chains and situation prohibit it. Oh God, does it burn. A deep burning sensation.
Eventually my body gives up and collapses. I hang limp in the irons as I whimper in agony. It probably takes a good twenty minutes for it to subside from stinging to a generalized ache as my body adjusts to its presence. It’s funny, even though this was way beyond my enjoyable pain/pleasure euphoria’s, there was still a high from it. I think due to the massive number of endorphins released from the combination of fighting the restraints, irritation of my sexual organs, and deep growing burn pain.
My mind is onto other things, and I am back to watching the merriment of the others using the playground equipment when Master, Sir Michael and two of the other masters enter the cell. All the other activities in the playroom come to a noticeable stop.
Chapter 20: Charged and Condemned for Debauchery
{Sunday 4:00 am – 7:30 am} “You have been charged with debauchery. You willingly engaged in excessive indulgence of sensual pleasures by having relations with no less than twelve men, who you enticed with your nakedness and your desire to be bound and used by them. After witnessing your glee in this self-pleasure-seeking promiscuity, we have come to find it disgusting, immoral and sinful in our eyes. As such, you have been placed in chains for the past two hours to contemplate your acts and during that time you have shown no remorse for your wickedness as you hung there, just wallowing in your own indignant self-righteousness.
We all grudgingly had to partake in your requirement for you to be bound in order for you to serve us, acts that should have been done for us voluntarily as a guest in this home. You gave us a list of filthy sex acts that you desired and then insisted we force you to do them, thus making us look like the villains and putting the masters into a subservient role to you, a role you did not earn nor one that we can let be known occurred and therefore you must disappear. As such, there is no need for a trial to determine culpability as the Masters without need for debate all find you guilty as accused. Your mandatory sentence for your sins will be carried out immediately.
There is no appeal,” states Master sternly, almost angrily, to me.
Willingly? It is understood that I don’t like or want sex with men. I was bound and then forced by them. Well, I did volunteer to be bound so that they could force me, but it was just to make my fantasy real… Ok, so I had a part, maybe you could say I started it, but am I really the catalyst for their deviant behavior, they are blaming me. I was invited here. I didn’t mean to make them subservient to me, I thought they wanted to do this, I was the entertainment. And hey, wallowing on the wall? My balls were on fire… that was a reasonable response, I thought I had handled it well.
So, some of what he just said may have some truth, but it’s still a trumped-up story, an excuse to punish me, what’s this one going to be? They really don’t require a reason per the Contract to punish me, why create a story? It was a powerful one, could they be setting a basis for a torture more savage than the horse? Oh, stop your silent bitching, you wanted to do this, I guess I’m just fatigued from the intensity of the abuse and lack of sleep.
My neck, wrist, waist, and ankle shackles are removed in that order. While still in the cell my wrists are secured together behind my back this time with rope, a novelty for this weekend. I am then told to open my mouth which is then filled with a large piece of sponge that expands in my mouth completely filling it. It is then held in place with multiple wraps around my face and head with clear shipping tape pulling my cheeks inward, trapping my tongue to the bottom of my mouth and sealing my lips so I can only breathe from my nose. This is the most severe and effective gag I have had.
I was then gripped firmly on each side by Master and Sir Michael and walked to the doors and taken outside to near the gazebo where the swing was located. The swing is gone. In its place is a white painted, well-made sturdy platform that matches the style of the gazebo. It is about four feet high, five feet wide and eight feet long and has three steps on one end so the platform can be accessed. It has a railing running up the stairs and along the back and far side, while it is open in the front. It is built to sit precisely within the two vertical, square, five by five columns that rise about twelve feet from the ground where a matching crossbeam runs between them.
The beam and columns had previously served to hold the suspended garden swing.
What has my greater attention though is the single thick rope with a noose that hangs from the beam’s midpoint, dangling over the center of the platform. I am held firmly in front of the obvious ‘gallows’, as Master says, “Test it.” I watch as one of the subs puts a sandbag on the center of the platform and a person wearing a full leather executioner’s hood pulls a lever on the platform. The bag disappears from view as two doors in the floor swing down. That shook me. This looks very authentic and functional, and they are making sure I understand that.
The trap door is reset. “Put the condemned on the scaffold,” orders Master, and I am forcefully taken up the stairs and turned outwards on the platform. I look out and see that most of the guests are gathered around. Sir Michael is there. He has a serious, intense, determined look on his face. No one in the crowd seemed to be smiling, there almost appears to be an air of apprehension amongst them, especially with the submissives. They are the last thing I am to see. A loose fitted, thin leather bag style hood with no openings is put over my head and neck, draping down to my shoulders. With the hood on I can notice that my breathing has gotten somewhat rapid.
My treatment is not like the preparations for my previous sexual uses or punishments. It is more aggressive and performed with deliberate purpose. I feel ropes being tied around my ankles and then around my legs just above the knees. My hands remain tied behind my back, the awful sponge gag still sealing my mouth. It is then that the noose is dropped over my head and tightened around my neck pulling the leather hood tight to me. “Take the slack out of the rope.” I feel the noose press against my head as the standing end is drawn upward. My mind rationalizes at first that they are just playing with me, but then doubts come flooding in.
All the bondage equipment and furniture they have here is designed for a unique specific malicious purpose. The masters have exploited the full intended capabilities of each piece they put me on. Nothing was for show. My crotch was made to ride on an electrified point of the genitalia abusing horse, I was secured to a St. Andrew’s cross and striped head to toe, I was strapped to a bench and fucked, then the soiled pricks put in my mouth, I was tied to a chair, my privates, front and back, violently assaulted while slowly made to consume the urine of many, drip by drip, I was hung by cable from the ceiling for hours on end. Real BDSM practitioners who tortured me knowing I couldn’t resist, and they took delight in my suffering.
Here I am again bound and can’t resist. Could this, just like all the others, also be happening for real, are they really going to hang me? Is this their fantasy that they are getting to act out for real because they can? I don’t know these guys, I only know Michael, they could be real sadists. But murderers? No, that’s ridiculous. Although, why else would they have built these gallows? They had hidden the platform from me, it wasn’t here on the tour, there was no noose, this all was disguised as a simple swing. They obviously didn’t want me to know what was going to happen to me.
This is an expensive prop, they went to a lot of effort to set this up, they wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if they didn’t really want to hang someone, would they? They didn’t have any other play toys here just for show, they use them, used them on me. From the get-go I was just to be the entertainment, some straight guy they don’t know who was given to them to abuse, I’m a prop, a toy, a non-entity. They can just dispose of me, no one knows I’m here, wherever ‘here’ is, but Michael. He’s my best friend, he wouldn’t do this, I know he wouldn’t, would he? He did ask me if I wanted to be tied up and drowned on the beach in San Diego, is this a kink of his I didn’t know about?
Just as I am trying to justify that he’d be my protector and not a predator, Sir Michael, now standing behind me says to me quietly, “Don’t worry, Bobbie, one of the other submissives who sometimes plays here is a county coroner, he will put on your death certificate that you died of a heart attack while swimming. Amy will never know about this and all the warped things you had us do to you. I will keep your perverted sick fantasies a secret from her.” He then adds in a more sinister tone, “Just so you know, don’t expect to rest in peace after you're gone as we are going to screw your corpse.
It’s my turn now to do something I have fantasized about for a long time and without you I would never have got a chance. Don’t worry, I’ll have them keep your body tied as we do you, cause that’s the way you’d like it, you twisted fuck toy. And, by the way, the best thing to me is I get to leave all my cum in your ass one last time so I’ll be forever part of your ashes.” And then I hear him walk away and down the steps.
He is part of this, why is he doing this to me, is it true what he just said? I’m his friend, why, why me? Because he’s the sick fuck, I never knew! I am in such shock, so confused, so tired, so anxious, my mind is playing tricks, I can’t tell if I am dreaming this or if this is real. I can’t risk it; I scream out RED, but I can tell that my sounds are not able to exit my gag throttled throat. Nobody comes to my rescue. I stand there, how long I’m not sure, could have been seconds, maybe a minute or two. My brain tells my body to try and escape but I am frozen in fear. I am shaking violently, and I feel tears rolling down from my eyes. My swirling mind rushes from what was just said to me to flashes of my wife and kids, and then I hear, “Do it.”
It is staggering to sense the floor dropping out from under your feet knowing you are held by a rope around your neck. I immediately begin to fall and sense the pressure of the noose pulling up on my chin and pushing back on my head and tightening around my neck…. Then in the next instant my feet hit a soft floor followed by me falling backward where I am caught by waiting arms. I hear cheering and applause as I am lifted back up on the platform and stabilized, the rope no longer taught.
About five seconds later with me still shaking uncontrollably I am asked, “You want to do it again?” I rigorously shake my head ‘no!’ as I still can’t utter a sound. Those fuckers, they scared me to death, literally that is. I am still pulsing, trembling, my heart racing. It may have been just a millisecond in time but for that instant all the sounds and sensations were so vividly real to me and are now indelibly printed in my mind forever. I was being hung; I was going to die. I can still hear the collection of sounds; that of the lever being pulled, the doors banging open, the creek of the noose, the
