Vegas Twelve to One · Part 3 (3/14)
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to purchase a collar just for me. I am then handcuffed with my hands behind my back and walked over to one of the pegging benches and told to climb on. With my hands not available to help, they provide the boost.
I am familiar with this piece of equipment, having spent a significant time being trained and used on one at Sir Michael’s. I am strapped down. New to me is that this bench has a headrest, and thus, my head too is secured tight. I am then blindfolded. Stuck, I wait, unable to resist any assault other than refusing to open my mouth and I know from my previous training, doing that would result in severe consequences. I feel lube being smeared around my butthole and then a butt plug is rudely pushed in. I had been working myself with toys prior to the trip to prepare myself for this inevitable need, but even with prep, this insertion hurt.
I was still adapting to the discomfort in my ass when my pain receptors were diverted to my cheeks being paddled. Stinging, rapid strikes, in sets of three, hitting one cheek, then the other. We had just started, so I can think of no reason for being disciplined. This must be simply because it pleased my masters. They were just setting the tone, kicking things off. Each of them working their own selected cheek. Apparently, to further set the mood they outfitted me with a ball sling on my sack and then suspended a considerable amount of weight from it and set it swinging. The swaying was assisted by my jerking body as I was then whipped by a flogger on my back, butt, and tender sides.
They seem to take turns with a single whip this evolution. You could tell one abuser was more practiced in this art. And then it stopped. I was proud of myself as, other than quiet moaning, I never cried out or used any safe words.
My surrogate new master then whispers in my ear, “That was to mentally prepare you for taking and accepting pain for the rest of the weekend. It was just a tiny mild taste of things to come. Be sure to ponder on it as you fall asleep. Keep thinking, ‘I cannot control this, they can and will do whatever they want to me, it is impossible to resist, suffering, pain is inevitable, I deserve it, I want this.’ You know one of the things we will want again and again is to be serviced orally, it’s your fantasy and desire and will be your reality.
I know you have learned to do this, and you are going to show me now what you learned and can handle.” I can feel his presence now in front of me and hear the sound of his zipper, then the push down of his pants and briefs. “Open,” is the command and I obey. I’m surprised to find he is already hard. I can tell that he is circumcised, clean and fairly large. Not Michael large, but large enough. I go to work as taught using my tongue on his head and slit and lips on his shaft. I have no other tools to help with my hands and head secured. I concentrate on the fact that I am bound and unable to resist my distasteful use and that helps motivate my efforts.
This scene seems to also be exciting to him, it makes sense, a Dom fucking the mouth of a bound sub is his thing. He gives me a familiar set of ongoing instructions of “Close, Lick, More tongue, Use your lips, No teeth,” etc. He is doing his part too, moving in and out without going so deep as to gag me. He has a good grip on my head and uses that hold to help with the work action. It is subtle though as the head restraint doesn’t allow for much movement.
I then get a very specific command of “Now get ready and do not bite me or you’ll suffer more than you desire.” I am trying to make sense of what he just said when my butt is whipped again, this time with what felt like a riding crop. The second it hit my body jumped and my jaw naturally contracted, but because of the warning I was able to control it pretty well and he was not bitten, at least not bitten hard. “Good Bitch,” I hear. The stinging strikes keep coming as the in and out thrusting in my mouth continues. The sound of a whip striking me is evidently making the Master excited. His cock is even harder, and his movement is faster.
It doesn’t take long when I feel his hands on my head tense up and he shoves in, past my gag control and he holds fast as he pulses. I’m gagging and struggling to pull back away from him to no avail, both because of the head restraints and his strong grip holding his groin tight against my face and cock deep in my mouth. I dare not bite down. I can feel his warm cum in my throat and mouth as my throat muscles involuntarily spasm against his dick head exciting him more. It is more than a few seconds of me choking, gaging, and resisting as best I can when he pulls back and exits. My gag reflex is still reacting although there is nothing there.
Saliva with some intermixed cum is dripping from my mouth down to the floor. Sir Michael takes one last hit, a fairly wicket one, and stops.
“Good boy, very good boy, you’re not that bad for a newbie. Now close your mouth, swallow good, take all of me down, use your tongue to wipe down the inside of your mouth and then open again,” calls out the Master. I reluctantly swallow and sweep and swallow again, God, I really don’t like the taste of other people’s cum, it’s doable, just not pleasant. I then open wide and wait for the inevitable reentry of a wet cum covered dick looking to be cleaned. And in it comes and I provide the required service, with Master still clenching his shaft with one hand coaxing out the last few drops of semen for me to consume. The life of a bondage submissive, obviously. The drops of semen from his second entry doesn’t help the taste. I think this may be a long, long weekend.
“Bedtime, let’s get you ready.” I am unbuckled from the bench, told to dismount and I am immediately re-handcuffed. My blindfold is removed, and I am told to look down. Master says, “See that mess on the floor, you need to clean up after yourself first.” I am pushed down on my knees and then my head is pushed to the floor. “Come on, put your tongue out and lick your mess up.” After I reluctantly comply, I am pulled back up and I am walked over to the big bed. I smile, foolishly thinking I am going to sleep on top of the inviting mattress, not a shower stall like in San Diego.
Sitting on the bed is a set of irons, made up of pairs of two-inch-wide chromed steel wrist and ankle cuffs each connected by one-inch oval link silver chains and a similar wide neck collar. A central chain connects the neck collar to the other two pairs via interconnecting rings that allow for movement of the chains. The handcuffs are removed and the two Masters work together to secure my limbs and neck, with the cuffs, their attached chains arranged so that my arms are again behind me. There is enough slack to be able to hobble and move my arms around past my sides, but not far enough to my front to touch my privates or to reach the plug in my butt.
The door to the cell beneath the bed is opened and I am told to get down and climb in. Not so easy when bound as I now am, but I make it happen. No assistance was provided. The door is then closed and then jiggle to show me I was locked in. So much for sleeping on a mattress.
“The door is locked magnetically. Sir Michael, my partner and I have the card keys that will release the lock. You are here for the night. You will be alone in the dungeon, but night cameras provide surveillance, both visually and audibly. Just so you know, the locks to this cage and all other magnetic locks and doors that may secure you this weekend are interconnected with the fire detection and sprinkler systems. If they operate or if we have a power failure, the locks will all fail-safe open. You know where the exit door to the outside is, and it is always openable from the inside. Your irons will restrict your movements, but if needed you are mobile enough to escape the house.
I will be turning the lights out. The only illumination in this room will be from the EXIT sign by the door and the TV monitors. The bed is situated so that a monitor can be seen from each of the four sides of your cage. They will be playing some of the most violent and shocking BDSM bondage and torture films we have collected in a loop all night. The sound system here will blare their sound tracts. The room is well insulated so no sounds can be heard from the room, but I assure you that you will clearly hear the sounds from the videos. Should you need it, there is a male urinal bottle in the back corner of your cell. Be careful, there are no towels. If you have a spill, you lick it up.
By the way, because I know you are thinking about it, these sleeping arrangements are all within the allowable terms of your Contract, barely. Expect us to exploit the provisions of that document to our amusement and not yours all weekend long, that way we all can have fun, pleasant dreams my sweet prince.” And they walk away.
The video monitors and sound system come to life. I hear the cell door close at the bottom of the stairs, then the lights go out and the heavy door at the landing is shut hard, I assume for effect, and the slide bolts closed. And I am alone, bound naked, filled with a butt plug, and in a cage, with no escape possible, unless there is a fire.
I try to get comfortable. There are no pillows or blankets, the floor is tile, not cold like Sir Michael’s shower stall I slept in, but not warm either. I have a caked phlegm coating and lingering foul taste of cum in my mouth and throat. And of course, I am fully aware of my nakedness other than my leather collar that is just above the metal neck ring that secures me. The video sounds are disturbing, lots of whip sounds, screams and other agony noises. It will be tough to tune them out. I gazed out the cage at one of the screens and Master was accurate, these are violent bondage shows. At least some are with women, which is my sexual preference.
I try to get comfortable and think pleasant thoughts, but with the weekend to come on my mind, the stuff I saw in this room, the session I just experienced and can still feel and taste, along with the sounds and sights from the videos make that unlikely. It’s not long before I have the urgent need to pee. With effort, I locate the bottle, but with my hands secure as they are and the poor maneuverability because of the very low ceiling height of the cell, it takes a great deal of effort to get my dick into the throat of the bottle while holding it. With considerable exertion I get it done without a spill.
Task completed; I was back to trying to sleep. Not sure how long I laid there on my side, which was the most comfortable position before I drifted off, there are no clocks here, but it was a while. At least some of the girls that occasionally appeared on screen were hot from my perspective despite them being bound, raped, and brutalized. I can’t help worrying that I may appear in their future video clips being treated in the same manner. There were some videos that appeared to have been shot here.
Chapter 5: My Second Host Abuser
{Friday 7:00 am – 10:00 am} Friday morning did come, although in this room with no windows you could not tell day from night. I was laying there somewhat awake but with my eyes still closed when I heard the dungeon door being opened, then the lights came on and I heard the main cell door opening and closing. The TV monitors are shut off and the sound system changed to quiet nondescript background music. I can hear other activities by whoever has entered but I can’t really determine what they are doing.
It took a little while, but eventually I heard steps coming close, so I made sure I was looking alert and ready to serve. The door is unlocked, and I receive a simple and direct order from who I assume is our other Host, “Come on out, bring your urinal if you used it.” There was to be no formal introduction. I retrieved the bottle and crawled out. He is naked but wearing a full black leather strap harness having straps over his shoulders and a strap that circles his back and chest connecting together between his pecs with a silver ring, with another strap descending from this ring to a second ring located just below the navel that connects a strap that circles his body just above his hips.
From this ring another strap descends to a ring that encircles his dick and ball-sack before a trailing strap disappears between his legs. All these straps interconnect with like rings in the back. There is also a large buckle in both the front and back between the rings to help put on and adjust the harness. He is also wearing a leather submissive collar like mine but without an inscribed name.
“Time to complete your journal for yesterday and then your morning workout, follow me. Do you need to use that?” he said referring to the bottle.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied.
“OK, then stop and use it.” This is both embarrassing and difficult with my hands still secure primarily behind me as they were all night. As I struggle to reach around and align my penis to the bottle he says, “Hold on, I’ll get it.” He then takes the bottle, already partially filled with urine from last night, grabs my dick and sticks it in the neck of the bottle and waits. Talk about a shy bladder, made more difficult by the comment, “Get on with it we haven’t got all day.”
I eventually finished and we are on the move again with him carrying my bottle. More big-time embarrassment, I think by design. There will be worse to come. He takes me to the conference table where my computer is already open and plugged in. He releases my two wrist cuffs and tells me to sit down. After I do, he takes the now free cuffs and locks them to eyehooks in the table, one to each side of me and I am now unable to flee from where I sit. I get to writing, trying to recall every detail from yesterday and last night.
I have learned the hard way how difficult it can be to recreate your story as Sir Michael will again want me to do if you don’t have a comprehensive journal containing activity and bondage details, pleasure and pain descriptions and my thoughts on what was being done to me. It takes a while until I get my ‘homework’ done. I was not rushed. I am unlocked from the table, cuffs reattached to me, and we walk to the cell doors, go up the stairs and exit the dungeon. We cross the hall to a door directly opposite from the one we are leaving and enter into a nice little gym. Little in comparison to the playroom, big for most home gyms.
There are free weights, a few weight machines, an elliptical trainer, a stationary bike, and a treadmill. Mirrors adorn the walls. I am uncomfortable seeing my nakedness being reflected 360 back at me. The room has a cushioned mat type floor. And there is a dreaded scale, but everything else is nice.
“I understand you normally do stretches, work out on weight machines and sometimes use cardio equipment.”
“Yes Sir,” is my reply. He then uses an unlocking tool to remove my irons but then puts back on leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, locking them on with miniature locks through their hasps. Overkill, I think to myself. Then he secures in place a three-foot-long vinyl covered flexible metal cable between the wrist cuffs. He does the same with another cable to the leg cuffs. “Master wants you to do all the stretches you do at the gym. He then wants you to also use the elliptical for 30 minutes. Use the ‘quick start’ program. You should have ample movement in your restraints to get it done.” I was able to complete what was just demanded. The only issue was the plug that was still in my butt and was now irritating my hole with the friction of my movements, the original lube no longer effective.
Some things still are hard for me to understand. When I was done, the wrist and ankle cuffs were removed, and the original irons were put back on with each cuff and collar requiring the special tool to bolt them back together, then I was walked back across the hall into the dungeon where I was then taken into the wet room and stood in front of the metal Tee where the irons were again painstakingly removed and put aside and only to be immediately rebound here. I wasn’t going to flee on the short wall across the hall or likewise during the walk I had earlier to the bench. I had volunteered to be bound.
Is this needed? (I learned later there wasn’t a security need to physically keep me bound, but a desire to keep me mentally bound. Mentally surrendering to the realization that one would never be free of their physical bondage helps a submissive realize the inevitability of their situation, succumbing first to acceptance, then enjoyment, and finally craving the sexual use and torture that gratifies the master. I was also told that keeping one tired, sleep limited, in stretches of solitude, and confusingly punished at times seemingly for no reason helps him submit to his total submission to his Dominant sooner, sometimes within a long weekend. That was their goal.)
I saw that there were now chains affixed to the four recessed securing points around the Tee and hanging from the ceiling rings over the first shower where there had been none at either place during the tour. Also, there were chains coming from recessed rings in the floor near the walls and aligned with the ceiling chains, securing points I hadn’t noticed before. I assume this was some of what he was attending to when he first arrived this morning. Shiny metal cuffs were then secured to my wrists and ankles. He maneuvered my legs wide and secured them to the outer chains and then pushed me over the Tee beam so that my belly rested on its cold surface and then secured my wrist to the remaining two inside floor chains. All done without any words exchanged. There would continue to be no conversation, just a few short commands.
The plug is abruptly pulled from my hole with a twist and dropped onto the floor. A dab of lube and then a rubber douche wand is inserted into my rectum, cold water jetted in, and a simple command “Push it out.” Which I reluctantly did, beginning the most embarrassing and unpleasant activity that I can ever remember. This went on for four, maybe five cycles of insert wand, squirt water and push out. I then feel a new dab of lube put into me and I am shown the long nosed rectal speculum that is about to be inserted and opened.
That is followed by a long flexible vibrator that is also shown to me and then is maneuvered around deep inside of me for a time, circling and probing, then secured with a Velcro strap so it stays within me running. I’m informed the speculum and vibration is to help me drain as water flowed deep within my rectum and probably into my sigmoid colon. I’m told to help by pushing out about once a minute. I can feel a trickle, occasionally, run down my leg. The hose on the wall was then used to wash the mess on the tile floor below me down the drain as I remained bent over the stainless-steel Tee, secured and unable to flee.
I was left there for maybe ten to fifteen minutes, stretched open, vibrated, and I guess, draining.
As I gaze around from my bounds, I see the cameras, the wet room is being recorded too. How gross. There is one pointed at the Tee from behind me, everything would have been in view. I felt like I wanted to cry, humiliated at what just happened to me and that it was recorded, maybe even being watched by others as I am held here.
He was back. The vibrator and the speculum are removed. I was told to “Push out again.” I did, and I can feel a little liquid, just a drop or two trickled out of my closed anus. I was lubed again, wand reinserted and three more, shorter cycles of insertion, water jetted in, and “Push it out.” It is followed by the reinsertion of the speculum and more vibration deep inside of me. Then something new is added, a sucking feeling and sound. A semi-rigid vinyl tube is being manipulated deep inside of me lapping up, I guess, whatever water remains within me. It’s just a minute or so of this action, then a removal of the tube, vibrator and the speculum.
The hose again was used to clean the floor to the drain and this time to squirt down my butt and legs. The water was not warm. I am left again, this time for about ten minutes. He is back, and gives the command “Push out again.” I do. He runs his hand up my crack in an inspection sort of way. I appear free of any discharge. He is satisfied I am cleansed and dry.
He then puts another dab of lube on my hole and without mercy or remorse, unceremoniously pushes straight in another butt plug while announcing that “This one is yours. It is bigger than what I pulled out.” I had only brought two plugs, both Lovense Hush 2 Bluetooth remote control vibrating plugs. The larger one is 1.75 inches in width and at home it takes me a long time of a gentle slow in and out vibrating insertion to get it past my door. Because of the rough insertion there is instant agony and cramping as the thickest girth passes through till my hole slams shut around the thinner throat. It takes a while for me to catch my breath and for the pain to subside.
Meanwhile, he unlocks my wrists and ankles, spins me around so my back is now against the Tee, re-secures my legs wide, pushes me backward against the Tee and re-secures my hands behind me so my privates are now being thrust forward.
My balls and crack are lathered up and I am carefully, gently shaved with a straight razor and rinsed. My bush is left untouched which was a Contract requirement. He moves to my face and does the same thing. I use an electric razor. On rare occasions I have shaved with a multi-blade razor, but this is the first time ever that someone else has shaved my face and with a straight razor at that. When he is finished, he methodically unlocks me from the Tee chains and moves me to under the ceiling chains, puts each of my arms up in the air and locks me to those chains. My legs are pulled apart and attached to the floor chains. I am now in a taught standing spread eagle.
I am rinsed down with cold water from the nearby hand shower head, scrubbed all over with soap and re-rinsed. Then my hair was shampooed. I received a final rinsing, still with cold water and apparently left to drip dry. My shivering helps the water drip off my body.
It was a long time before the next return. All was dry by then, except my hair and leather Bitch collar which were still damp. He combed my hair. I was then released, which pleased me as my arms and shoulders were aching at this point from being held spread above my head. It was again back into the irons, and I was taken back over to near the refrigerator and conference table. He says, “Get down on your knees” and I comply. Using a dry measuring cup, I watch him pour out exactly one cup of Fiber One Bran Cereal and put it into a dog dish. He adds one half cup of almond milk taken from the frig. The bowl is sat down on the floor in front of me and I am told “You’ll want to eat it all, it is likely your big meal for the day.”
OK, this weekend is going to be a lot different from the time spent in San Diego. These guys are really treating me as a submissive, maybe lower than that. Having no options I lay down as best I can with my arms behind me due to the way the irons have been placed. I stick my face in the bowl and using my tongue and lips I struggle to eat. When finished, he pulls the bowl away and tells me to get up and go back to the wet room. He takes me to the sink, where he takes my toothbrush, puts a squirt of my Crest on it, tells me to open wide and proceeds to brush my teeth. He opens a bottle of water, brings it to my mouth and tells me to rinse. After that is done, he tells me I must take my meds.
He has my two daily meds in his hand. He says, “Open” and drops the two pills on my tongue then brings up the bottle of water to my lips and pours water into my mouth. I swallow trying not to choke. He then says, “Open again, drops two more pills on my tongue and pours in the water. I look at him quizzically and he simply says, “Cialis.” The final “Open,” and my chewable orange gummy is dropped in for my consumption. He wipes my face, clearing it of both the dribbled toothpaste and the remnants of my slurping breakfast. No way to describe it other than weird, change that to gross. My morning routine turned into complete embarrassing humiliation.
Later, upon pondering it I’ve come to realize many of these tasks I find revolting or disgusting may likewise be the same to him. He is subservient to the same Master at the moment, and this is a demonstration of his required servitude. I hope he is enjoying it. I hate it.
We leave the wet room again and he takes me back to the bed cage and I am told to get in, still confined by the irons. It is locked and he leaves the dungeon, turning back on the videos and killing the lights. My mind is racing as I detested my morning preparation. This treatm
