Vegas Twelve to One · Part 12 (12/14)
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cry out of “Nooooo’ in my muted throat.
I can clearly feel the loss of footing and dropping, the pull back, clinching, and awkward bending of my neck, the banging of the rope against my head. My immediate attempt to push out my legs and arms against their bonds to catch myself, only to be held fast by the ropes. And the traumatic emotional panic and horror in my brain. All these sensations and feelings collide in a single moment in time.
My noose is removed, along with the hood. Mercifully, so is the tape and sponge gag, however, it doesn’t really matter, I am so shocked I am unable to speak. Master takes a large sharp knife he had there for safety and easily slices the rope about a foot above the noose. He says, “This is yours to take home with you to remember the experience. Welcome to the brotherhood of true servitude. Every one of the subs here with you this weekend has previously been subjected to the same initiation ritual you just did when they first came to play.
You have proven yourself to be a genuine submissive by serving us all this weekend, never breaking, or copping out with safe words to avoid or stop your involuntary use and punishments and I grant you permission, while in this home, to serve and be used by the Dominants who play here in the manner you desire, forced while bound. I’ll add that you are the first straight man granted such a consent to serve us, to be part of us, to be a member of our private club. I beg of you to please ignore my sentencing speech, none of what I accused you of is true, it was just a script to set up the scene for you, to suck you in, I apologize, but it did appear to work.” It had.
For the curious, they had an assisted-braking device like rappelers use, a governor of sorts, on the hanging rope so that it would descend with me as I dropped, keeping a slight tension on it to give the illusion that it was tightening and unyielding. It only needed to do that for the millisecond it took me to fall about three feet to the cushioned landing. It worked perfectly, giving the sensation of an unyielding rope, yet moving with me as I fell, never putting me at risk. It was even equipped with a backup excess tension release for additional safety.
It lasted for less than a second, but in that very short time, it felt so real, and that sensation of the actual hanging is burned forever into my memory. They did a terrific job of playing with my mind in the lead up to and delivery of my execution and I am sure someday I’ll forgive my best friend for his convincing theatrical role in this that pushed me over the edge. In my altered exhausted mental state, he was so believable.
I never had these thoughts before, but now I find myself pondering about the horror it would be if there was no governor, no soft landing. The hangman’s knot used was not the more conventional cervical fracturing type with a bunch of rope rings that snaps the neck when dropped, but the smaller loop tightening type that squeezes the throat to cause strangulation. That would mean if it were a true hanging, death would not be rapid, but a slow, horrifying way to go. What if my new play friends were extreme sadists, who would delight in watching me swing from the rope, masturbating while viewing my eventual strangulation, death?
These thoughts now occasionally haunt me as I had foolishly allowed a group of unknown BDSM kinksters to bind me so I could not resist them. I was completely at their mercy and defenseless to their whims, whatever they may be. Let me make it clear, the ultimate suffering and death from hanging or other modes is no fantasy of mine, it scares the pants off me. Also, be assured every one of these twelve men proved to be good guys who were sincerely trying to help me live my bondage and use fantasy, of course, while still entertaining themselves at their play date weekend. No dangerous sadists were amongst them. I was lucky, one might suggest.
My time on the platform was not over. The theatrics were done, now it was back to my bondage servitude. I remained tied as I was, but I was turned around, so I was looking out over the pool. A leather collar with rings was put on my neck and a long rope that was threaded through one of the eye-hooks that would have held the swing and attached to one of the side rings of the hood. Master, Sir Michael, Mistress and some of the other masters made themselves comfortable on Adirondack chairs near the platform. Master held onto the other end of my collar rope, which he pulled on till I was lifted onto my toes.
He then gave it just a little slack letting my feet come back flat on the platform deck, yet still taught enough to cause my neck to be stretched up and slightly pulled to one side. He then tied it off to the arm of his chair. They began to chat as I remained tied, held upright by my neck, not necessarily uncomfortable, with my heart rate and respiration still somewhat elevated. So much to internalize.
I gazed out over the pool. In the darkness of the late night, the low accent lighting around the pool and hardscape was beautiful, the setting so serene. Looking way off in the distance you can see a bright colorful sky from the lights of Vegas. Incredible. I was actually enjoying this recuperation, although what had just happened still wasn’t settled completely. I do like bondage, and at this moment my situation was not severe, nor was I being used or abused. I watched a couple of the boys playing in the pool. One Dom was laying on a chaise lounge with his cock being sucked by who I assume is his mate, but it could have been another sub.
And there was one sub in a similar predicament as I, with him being bound to the arbor. For the moment he wasn’t being tormented either. I had enough movement that I was able to somewhat turn back to look at the group with me. They were just chatting, sipping beers, and munching on healthy vegetables and dips. When Master noticed me watching, he pulled on the rope bringing me back forward and up on my toes. He refastened his knot to hold me that way for a while. A little more strenuous but not unbearable. It does invoke a bit of a strangling feeling though. About ten minutes later I was let back down again, only to be re-hoisted up, then back down about every five to ten minutes.
I was still serving as entertainment.
At one point Sir Michael climbed the stairs and said, “I feel like I am neglecting you.” And showed his regret by placing a clothespin on each of my nipples, then adding one on each side of the first two pins. The six pins stayed on for about ten minutes when Mistress boarded the platform, turning me sideways so that she would have access to the front of me and proceeded to use her riding crop to painfully dislodge the clips from my body. Just my luck, one of the center nipple pins was only partially dislodged with one of the hits, causing it to dangle from the tip of the nipple, excruciatingly painful, until three hits later when it was whipped free of me.
When in servitude pain can be better internalized if you sense that the dominant is getting true pleasure from the abuse they are delivering. Mistress had a big smile on her face and was nearly dancing as she took her strokes. At least this time she was not causing me to get excited, I had learned that lesson. When she finished, she exclaimed to Master, “I am so glad you convinced me to come, this has been one of my favorite parties here.”
You can tell it is late at night as the activities, while still occurring, are more subdued. I do see that the sub was whipped while tied to the arbor and when released gave his master an oral servicing that brought him close to the brink before the master extracted himself and took the sub by the hand and walked him into the pool for a late-night skinny dip. The crowd also seems to thin out with some couples heading back inside via the primary entrance to the pool and not the dungeon. I assume they were heading to their bedrooms. Mistress also headed inside. I still can’t believe how good looking she is as I watch her walk down the walkway to the house.
Daybreak this Sunday Las Vegas morning came about 5:30 am. They have kept me hanging from my neck tether so that I can watch the sun come up over the horizon along with the few others who remained outside. This is a superb place to have a home, the sunrises are breathtaking. I’m glad they kept me outside for this. My legs and ankles are then untied, and my collar unbuckled by my morning attendant, and he takes me back inside to start my morning workout, wash routine, and breakfast, my wrists, of course remaining tied together for the trip in. When I am done about two hours later, I am presented to Master, to continue my contracted servitude despite being ruthlessly weary.
Chapter 21: You Can Kiss That Train Goodbye
{Sunday 7:30 am – 10:00 am} “Do you want to play a game? I guess you really don’t have any choice in the matter, so let me rephrase that. We are going to play a game called ‘Party Bottom,’ you are going to serve kind of like the game board, which in this game is the party bottom. I know you don’t really understand so I’ll tell you the rules. You’ll be leaving us soon, so everyone is going to say goodbye to you while you are strapped to a pegging bench. They will do it by letting you suck them to get them ready. They are then going to fuck you. Each of the subs will have ten minutes to cum in your ass. If they fail to do so, they will be given a smack on the butt with a fraternity paddle by Sir Michael for failing to properly service his sub.
“That will be followed by a single smack with a regular leather paddle by each of the other participants. If the sub does cum in your rectum, then he will be given the fraternity paddle to give you a smack on your ass, followed by each of the others giving you a hit with the smaller paddle. The Doms will be given fifteen minutes to cum. If they fail or succeed, then the same paddle sequence will occur to them or you. After each fraternity paddle hit you will clearly call out ‘Thank you Sir or Master,’ whichever is appropriate. Do not say the trite ‘May I have another’ because you are getting eleven more hits if you ask for them or not.
Sir Michael will be the last to use you and he will have no time limit with you because you belong to him. Before the failure or reward punishments are given, if the performers were Doms, then their dicks will be cleaned. The Doms have the option of using their own subs or you. I’ll let you know right now I am not having my beloved sub suck me clean after it’s been in your ass with everyone else’s cum, lube and your shit. The subs don’t need to be cleaned as they are dirty creatures by nature. However, if it is the pleasure of the individual Dom to have their sub cleaned, then I guess you are on the spot for that.
“By the way, if you haven’t just done the math in your head, if everyone max’s out their time you will be ass fucked for well over two hours and if they all cum, paddled one hundred and twenty times. Isn’t this a fantastic game? Now let’s get you into position and strapped down. I don’t want you to leave before the fun begins. Also, Sir Michael and I will be serving as the game referees, I won’t be throwing a red flag, I’ll be swinging a beaded red cat-o-nine tails, so I suggest you don’t get penalized for flouting the rules.”
I am moved to the familiar open leg pegging bench which now has its headrest removed. There my transport bonds are removed along with my Bitch collar. It is replaced by a four-inch-wide thick leather collar that has multiple attachment rings and two securing buckles that are firmly fastened around my stretched neck. I climb up with the help of a hand slap to my bottom. My arms, legs, and chest are strapped down tight, tighter than my past visits to the bench. They secure two of the side neck rings to the bench. My head can move, but it is limited to a minimal up and down, side to side pivoting. I am blindfolded, then I hear, “No, take that off, he should see this.
I don’t ever recall being at a play party where one straight guy or any guy for that matter gets fucked by twelve different dicks in a row, but it’s going to happen here and he’s going to be the lucky guy, why not witness your own unending abuse?” ending with a laugh while pointing at me. I don’t think it’s funny. Maybe it is just because I am so tired, sore, and basically physically and mentally burned out. I try to concentrate on the fact that I am bound tight, not able to resist, being forced to be sexually abused, my ultimate bondage fantasy, but even that has lost its appeal.
I kind of wish I had a ring gag, but I know that would make for lousy oral delivery and the boys won’t like that. I think that’s why my head now has some movement, so I can do a better job. This broken submissive will submit, I will be the entertainment, I signed the contract. I am a fool.
It takes a little while; they are still assembling everybody together. From the background conversations, I hear some were still finishing breakfast, another had just taken a quick shower. One sub was being taken down from the St. Andrews Cross where, apparently, he had been strapped for the last few hours.
I’m glad for the extra time as it helps me come to terms with my current physical and mental state and allows me to accept what is about to happen to me with a little eagerness, convincing myself that they have created reality of my utmost fantasy, fulfilling my desires and; therefore, that I should do my best to perform my service and serve as a useful vessel for the sexual gratifications sought by those who will abuse me. Besides, these guys like me, and said I could join their fraternity; when you are mentally and physically depleted it is easy to get sucked into the events around you.
(Round #1) And so, it begins simply with one of the subs walking up to my head, him taking his erect dick into his hand and pushing it against my lips. I open my mouth. The hard penis glides in. I close my lips around the shaft, rub my tongue on the underside as he grips my head as he thrusts forward and back. He sets a nice tempo, rocking his body, using my head for leverage. He is warned to not lose his load, it’s to go in my butt. I’m worked for about four to five minutes when he releases my head, pulls free and moves around the bench to the rear, patting my back with his hand as he goes. A handful of cold lube is pressed into my hole and smeared up and down my crack.
And then I feel the head of his dick rubbing up and down my crack. He positions it against my hole and pushes it forward with the help of his hand. My butt has been stretched wide a lot this weekend, so it accepts this intruder without much resistance, with the lube reducing the friction to a minimum.
He goes right to work as he is on a time schedule. Ten minutes to shoot his load or suffer. There isn’t anything for me to do now other than to ‘take it like a man’. He’s concentrating hard at getting it done, setting a rhythm and pace that keeps him aroused. I’m sure he is fantasizing about whatever gets him excited, trying to block out all the others who are watching him and even giving him encouragement.
He has been at it a while when I notice a speeding up and longer deeper penetrations the telltale signs of a coming climax as he grabs hold of my body for support, tenses up, breaths heavy, gasps and stops hard movement and makes ever so slight in and out pulse movements as the cum is discharge within me. He holds still for a minute or two, resting and enjoying the final pulsations, then he withdrawals. While I am still new to this, the slipping out of a wilting dick is both a physical and mental odd feeling each time.
There is some conversation behind me that I didn’t really hear but I got the gist of it when he was back standing in front of me, his somewhat limp dick in front of my face. I didn’t react fast enough for someone because my ass is struck with the cat-o-nine tails; obviously a ref saw this as a foul, and I just was given a warning to keep up with the program. I open my mouth quickly and he puts his dick back in my mouth. The dominant taste is lube, thank God. I close my lips around him and lick around his shaft quickly and reopen, hoping it was good enough. He pulls back out and walks away. I guess it was.
It happens quickly, a very hard strike extending across both ass cheeks. I let out an uncontrolled, “Oh, shit, oww,” followed by my required response, “Thank you Sir.” Then every few seconds another hit on my cheeks, randomly selected, till all eleven additional blows had been delivered. My butt must be red, it’s stinging. I don’t know if I am going to get through this.
(Round #2) But there is no time to reflect, there is another firm dick at my mouth. I open, it is thrust in, I close and do my job, and he does his. He’s anxious to get to the good part so he pulls from mouth sooner than my last user. I didn’t really notice when he was in my mouth as I was still dealing with my smarting ass cheeks, but I can tell as he enters my butt canal, he is a bit longer, nothing like Sir Michael. No one here this weekend matched him. He is working me hard and it’s easy to tell he’s getting intense gratification going in and out of me. No question in my mind he is going to climax. I will be paddled again.
Funny that being smacked is my biggest worry, not the gay man fucking my butt as I lay tied down to a bench unable to resist. I did not really see who this was when he was in front of me, but he is taking his time, no urgency so I figure he must have fifteen minutes to work with. About halfway through he did stop to re-lube me, not sure if it was for my benefit or his. He got his assignment done, and by his moans in the end, he was happy in his work. I was correct, he was a Dom, and he elected to use me and not his sub to clean up. His fraternity hit is not as vicious as the first one I received, maybe he’s grateful for doing me or maybe he’s tired like me.
“Thank you, Master.” Eleven hits to my cheeks later and there is another dick at my mouth.
(Round #3) I don’t notice who this was either when he approached so try to tell by the feel of the dick in my mouth, but I can’t. There were just too many confusing oral penetrations the last two days, I just don’t know. Maybe this is what a street prostitute feels like being used by so many, the johns have become nondescript. I am starting to feel like a piece of worthless meat, and I am still a long way from being done, being a sexual object, used and abused. He is now pounding away at my butt. I have lost track of how long he has been at it. He does seem to be having a fun time pounding me, appearing to be hard the whole time, but I hear Master say “Time.” He hadn’t gone in me.
I am not going to be hit this time and I am delighted. The hits have not been within my pain/pleasure spectrum. There is a pause in the action, and I see them move a second pegging bench in front of me. My last assailant is told to mount it, has his legs and arms strapped down and I am told “Watch and enjoy.” Sir Michael steps up and wallops his butt with the large paddle. He jumps when hit, but with the restraints, goes nowhere. He also keeps silent, not a whimper, this is not new to him. It is then ten more licks with the smaller leather paddle that is passed around to each of his fellow subs and dominants. One less than I get, because I don’t get a turn.
Right at this point I am glad to be just watching and not receiving.
There is some conversation, and then I am told. We have decided to give this submissive another chance to prove himself. He needs to learn to do what his master wants even if it is not something he enjoys. In this case it is butt fucking, he is a bottom and doesn’t like topping. The sub makes himself hard, remounts me and after a few minutes successfully adds to the cum in my butt. He gets no reward other than the satisfaction of pleasing his master. My butt cheeks are not assaulted in this rotation, and I don’t clean him.
(Round #4) My short break was over as there was another dick in my face, number four. I open and go to work on a penis that has a bit more girth but a length like the previous. My sucking doesn’t have a lot of enthusiasm, but I do want it to be effective, as I prefer that this oral work that I must do to make the user hard should end quickly. The butt work, strange as it sounds, is more tolerable mentally.
One reason I think is with the butt I have absolutely no control, but with the tongue work, unless I have a ring gag forcing my mouth open, I am a somewhat willing party to the blow job, and so minimal ‘forced’ sexual gratification from it. It is the polar opposite to me licking my wife’s pussy which is my favorite sexual activity. When she has me lick her while I am bound it is off the charts. The collision of my two sexual personalities, heterosexual sex and bondage. So, now I am relying on the knowledge that if I refuse to suck this dick, the discipline I would be subjected to would be severe. I also keep reminding myself that this complete package is my warped fantasy come to life; enjoy the reality while you can, it will all be gone when you head home.
The dick has left my mouth and is being inserted in my rear. Maybe it was a lack of sufficient lube or the added girth but this one hurt as he pushed in. It takes a good five or six thrusts in and out before I start to loosen, and the pain dissipates. He keeps a rapid pace, but his thrusts are deep bringing his body tight against mine as he bottoms out his strokes. His pace gets the job done quickly and his load is within me faster than any of the others. I hear his Dominant direct him to have me clean him and I have my mouth open and waiting as he comes around to my face. I remember how this act was one of the most traumatic to me when Sir Michael insisted on it in San Diego.
Now it is something I just want to get done and over with. There is enough cum clinging to his dick that it is now coating my tongue and cheeks. The unpleasant taste starts to linger. It’s funny, I expected by now there would be an awful flavor in my mouth of my own excrement, but there has not been. The regular douching I have been subjected to must have really worked. I’m whacked twelve times and I begin to worry that this may leave bruising. I’m sure my cheeks are beet red, but that will go away.
(Round #5) Next up was the uncircumcised fellow. I’m sure it’s psychological, but his member feels gross in my mouth. Now all the cocks are distasteful, but this is a different dislike. I am thankful he was the only one uncut this weekend. He probably didn’t get my best work, he wasn’t very hard when he pulled out, and I was pleased he didn’t stay long in my mouth. He was hard when he got to my rear though, I assume his own hand stroking played a role. I was re-lubed and in he came. I must have been a good fit for him or maybe I was set up at just the right angle and height for him because his uttered moans of ecstasy went on and on as took his full time in me.
He would speed up, then slow down, push deep and make long thrusts, then take rapid short strokes. When he finally shot his load, and boy did he cum, he kept thrusting in for a while, moaning louder and trembling before finally collapsing onto my back.
“That was my best fuck in a long time, it great to have a tight ass given to you. Will you have him here next month to play with too? I’ll chip in for his airfare.” I really don’t deserve credit, bound and presented as I am, my hole is just there for anyone to use, there isn’t much for me to do other than take it. Cleaning an uncut dick is even more gross. This owner even helps by pulling back on his shaft to expose the tip for licking. I feel myself squeezing my eyes closed as I work on it. It even seems to taste bad, more so than the others have.
He is covered by more cum and the fresh lube than his predecessors, this will likely continue as there will be more and more jizzum left in my butt. He is also still oozing cum from his slit, more than the others. I guess he has avoided ejaculating all weekend until now or his ball production is much better than mine. He must have been satisfied with my service because he pulled himself out while I was still rubbing my tongue over the loose skin of his shaft. His strike across my butt indicated he had recovered some of his strength he had put into screwing my hole. Or maybe just the accumulation of smacks was taking a toll as the eleven other hits stung more and lingered longer.
(Round #6) I was pleased that the next dick in my mouth was circumcised and that the rest of them should be also. This one was also on the average size, so I could handle it much better in my mouth. It didn’t do anything to relieve the accumulation of foul cum and lube building up in there. He stayed a little longer, getting reasonably hard befor
