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I – The arrival

In correspondence with my favorite Pro Domme, Miss, she asks if I would ever have an entire weekend free of commitments. It turns out that I do since my wife is traveling for a few weeks and I have no particular responsibilities. My wife is aware of my proclivities and sometimes even suggests that I go see Miss when I seem stressed. We are non-monogamous and both kinky though don’t play with each other. I let Miss know the three weekends that I am available and she tells me that she will get back to me. When Miss does, the request is simple: Come to The House at noon sharp on Friday of the first weekend for a two hour session but plan to leave The House at noon on Monday. That’s it.

I show up and I notice that Miss is in street clothes rather than dressed for a session. We negotiate which is really just me filling her in on any body or health issues and then she takes me to one of the rooms and says, “Strip, put all of your things in that backpack, and put on this hood.” She points to the backpack and hands me a hood with an open mouth, formed nose, and nose holes but no eye holes. She leaves, saying, “Oh, hands and knees when you are ready.”

I watch Miss depart and wonder what I have gotten myself into. I take off my clothes and jewelry and zip them into the bag. I examine the hood and then slip it on. It is thick spandex that clings closely to my face when I put it on, the mouth hole framing my lips perfectly and my nose fitting well into the formed nose. It zips in the back and the tightness and thickness are such that I can’t see a thing. Carefully, I kneel down on all fours and wait. The door opens and I hear many more than two feet then feel the weight of someone sitting on my back, Miss, I find out.

“OK, here is our subject. We need to get it ready for transport. Someone lock that backpack and take it with us. Do we have everything else we need?” The answer, if one is given, is silent. Miss rises from my back and says, “Turn over, lay on your back.” I comply and feel belts circling my ankles, above, and below the knees, then all the way around my thighs and then my back and shins folding my legs against one another and my body. My arms are wrapped around my folded legs and bondage mittens are put on my hands and attached together. Two more belts are wrapped around the whole package and cinched down. Then–all of this takes place in silence–I feel something like rough canvas against my bottom–which is lifted–as the canvas slips over my folded legs and up my back. Then I am tilted the other way as the bag, for that is what it is, engulfs me up my neck. The top is secured with a belt and I hear the snick of a lock at base of my neck. Moving my head a little, it seems that the zipper of the hood has been joined with the belt from the bag. I am quite secure.

I feel someone close to me and Miss whispers, “Do you trust me? If not, say so now and we will do a two hour session and you go home. If so, you yield all control to me.”

I swallow though I do not hesitate, “I trust you.”

I am sure that Miss is smiling and she says, “Good, I think we will have a lovely weekend.” I feel a gag slip past my teeth filling my mouth. There is a hole in the middle to facilitate breathing though I can make little sound. The gag is buckled behind my head and I hear another snick of a lock. I am rocked up and put on something, a dolly perhaps, and rolled with a number of hands steadying me. A few bumps and then the smell of a garage.

Then many hands grip me and I am lifted off of the dolly and deposited into what I later find out is a large box with some padding inside. A tube is placed into my gag, some more padding is put around me, and I hear the lid put on the box. Nails are hammered into the lid. I can breathe easily through the tube. I am lifted again and land with a bit of a thump and I hear machinations around me, I presume fastening me to the bed of what ever vehicle that I am in. (Later, I find out that it was a pickup truck and all the while I was being transported, there was little but my bondage and the box between me and the world.) I hear faintly from outside the box, “I am not sure if you can hear me, we’ll be back. Have fun.” And then I wait.

Time stretches with no points of reference. My cock throbs to a full erection and then subsides as I wonder what will happen. I may have dozed at some point. I have no idea how long it is before I am startled by the sound of an engine starting and the movement of the vehicle, up the driveway, out on to the street, and beyond. The ride is disorienting and uncomfortable and again seems to go on forever. I doze from time to time to only be jolted awake by a bump or a more rapid slowing down. Eventually, the vehicle stops and I can feel it reversing. More noise of things being strapped and unstrapped and I feel a jerk upward and hear the vehicle drive away. I am swinging on what must be a winch. The box spins some and I hear Miss say, palandöken escort “If you can hear me, weeeeeeee’re heeeeeeeere. We are going to freshen up and we’ll be back. Why don’t you hang around here for a while.” Much laughter ensues as the box is turned more rapidly until it stops and turns back the other direction, back and forth until it settles to just rocking in the air, me waiting.

II – The unboxing and the first evening

I must have dosed off again because I wake to the box spinning more forcefully again. My whole body aches, I feel stifled by the warmth of the box and of wherever we were. I groan into the gag and I am sure some of the noise came out of the tube. A loud voice, Miss again, “Aw, poor toy, I bet you are all stiff in there, in more ways than one.” I feel myself being lowered and then feel a thump as I am again on the ground. The squeaking of nails being pulled from the box, though on all sides now, the sensation of the padding being removed and me being settled on my back. The tube being removed.

Without warning, a firm slap, then three more, then another. I writhe in my bondage and moan into the gag. Miss begins, “OK, I am sure you are curious about the weekend ahead of you. One of my friends is getting married and she knows what I do with my spare time. Her Maid of Honor approached me about having a kinky bachelorette party and as we talked about it, we knew it would be more that just a party. Perhaps a weekend away would work. I know someone with some land, this land in fact, that is far away from anything in the foothills. There is a nice house, this barn, empty acres, and even a pond and stream.”

She pauses so I could take this in and then continues, “You are the entertainment for the weekend. I know your tastes and limits and I think you will be a wonderful demonstration bottom for me to teach these ladies how to dominate and top. I’ll be showing them a number of techniques and they will have a chance to practice on you as a group. They will also have the chance, if they want, to have you as their personal toy for a little while.”

To the extent that I could, I nodded my head and I could not help my erection from growing inside of my bondage. This was either a dream or a nightmare come true. Miss continues, “The only face that you might see this weekend is mine, since you know me. Otherwise you will be hooded or blindfolded or your vision otherwise obscured both for the privacy of the ladies and because I know that it is one of your many kinks. You will address all of us as Miss regardless of who speaks unless we tell you otherwise. You will do whatever we say without hesitation. You have your safe word, though I remind you that it is for when you feel in genuine danger, not for when you are uncomfortable. I know this is a little more formal than we usually play, and I think it fits the nature of the weekend.” I nod again. I feel a presence close to me and Miss whispers in my ear, “You’ll be wonderful, I know. I’ll try not to break you but I will push you hard and bend you.” I groan through the gag.

Many hands sit me up and I hear the lock holding the bag and hood unlocked and the bag pulled down my aching body. The air is a bit cooler though still warm, I figure that it is late afternoon. Slowly, my bondage is undone. Belts unbelted, mittens removed, gag removed. Slowly and carefully I am helped to stand, shaking my legs and arms out, stretching them. “Whew, you must have been sweaty in there. You are a bit gamey. Let’s get you cleaned off. Hands in front of you.” I comply and feel rope on my wrists, which are quickly tied then hooked to the winch which begins to rise. In the hood, I must be blushing at being exposed like this, my erection standing at full attention in front of this group of strangers. I feel it slapped a number of times as well as my balls as I try to squirm away. My legs are grabbed and more rope is tied around each of my ankles. I find myself hanging by my bound arms while the ladies pull on the ropes, spreading my legs wide.

My leg ropes are tied off and then suddenly I feel the shock of cold water from a hose. I buck and writhe and I am helplessly exposed to the cold water. No part is untouched and I even feel the jet on my hood and mouth, causing me to sputter. Then I feel many hands with soapy sponges and brushes, cleansing me from suspended arms to feet. Then the jet of cold water again, rising off the soapy water which was at least a little warming. All during this I howl and scream though know better than to protest lest my mouth be washed out with soap. Finally, I am deemed rinsed then I feel the hands toweling me off. My ankles are untied and I feel some kind of footwear, slippers perhaps, put on and then I am lowered the rest of the way and my arms are untied.

Arms guide and support me as I shiver a little until we exit the barn and I feel the sun on my skin. Miss says, “You are going to help with our supper palu escort and perhaps get something to eat yourself.” Blind as I am in the damp hood, I am happy for the guiding hands and I am completely compliant, not resisting at all as I am led to a room and the hands leave me as I stand. “It is compliant because it is rather perverted. Many things that others find disgusting or humiliating or demeaning, it seems to enjoy. Don’t expect your submissives to be so compliant. Sometimes part of the pleasure is the resistance, though I like that it is willing to do all of these perverted things.”

I am given a last once over with the towels to make sure I am dry. Miss says, “Close your eyes and do not open them whatever you do.” I comply and the damp hood is removed. My head and hair are dried and my short hair brushed back. I feel a presence behind me and a form fitting blindfold, not unlike a Batman mask without eye holes, is slipped over my eyes and nose, two short protuberances ended up in my nostrils. The mask is firmly secured behind my head and I hear the snick of another lock. “While I trust it, I want to make sure it is secure all of the time,” says Miss, “and that it has no option to remove any other the bondage we apply. You may open your eyes.” She knows me well enough that I would keep my eyes closed even behind the mask. I do open them and all is black. A few more unexpected slaps in the face bring my attention back to the room. I might have been drifting in the darkness. Miss says, “No getting lost in there!”

Hands move to lay me down on something hard, a coffee table perhaps. When I am positioned well, I am urged to sit up and I feel something familiar–cling wrap–being wrapped around my upper body tightly. From my neck down, many layers of the clear but strong wrap. My arms are secured to my body and when they reach my waist, I am lain down again with a small pillow supporting my head. Having done this before, I help the ladies lifting my midsection using my legs and shoulders and the wrapping continues. A hand arranges my semi hard and oozing cock pointing up my body as the cling wrap continues to envelop me. One hand is left free as a part of our safe word agreement so I can tap if needed. The wrapping job continues all the way down my legs and includes my feet. From the neck down, I am completely immobile and encased in the cling wrap. This is one of my favorite sensations because I can just relax into the bondage and “enjoy” whatever happens. I like the pressure on my body and I don’t feel claustrophobic.

Miss begins, “You will notice, ladies, that I have referred to our subject as “it” and that is because our lesson for the day has to do with objectification. It and I generally have a quite genial if pervy relationship. We talk a lot during our sessions, there is usually laughter mixed with the whimpering, and we are in contact between sessions and share things with one another. So, this is more formal, as I mentioned. You may find that you like this more formal or more casual.” I can feel my cock swell in the confinement of the cling wrap as I am talked about in the third person as well as depersonalized. “OK, let’s get dinner ready.” A slight delay, then I feel the touch of things on my body, here and there, for a while and I lose count of the touches. “Don’t worry, it, I am taking pictures since I know that you are dying to see what we are doing to you. In case you have not figured it out, you are our serving platter and you are covered with all sorts of sushi and sashimi plus some wasabi and ginger. We are all going to eat it off of you.”

I shiver a little and smile, remaining silent and as still as I can. As the eating begins, I feel different sensations–chop sticks picking up some pieces, hands picking up others, some being eaten directly from my body by mouth. I get harder and harder and soon find that the ladies will put a piece of sushi or sashimi right on my now throbbing cock, trapped beneath the cling wrap, and then eat it off, driving me insane with sensation and frustration. The command comes, “Mouth open!” and I comply. Then I feel the sensation of partially chewed sushi in my mouth and I am told to swallow. This happens a few times and Miss says, “So, anything you don’t want, anything we don’t finish, goes in the garbage disposal.” Of course, that is me.

The meal goes on for some time with the ladies talking about this and that and me drifting in and out of a heady subspace, always keeping my mouth open for “garbage.” After a time, it is clear that they are done and I can feel bits of rice being picked up off my body and placed in my mouth. Then I get a mouth full of the pickled ginger and chew and chew until I can swallow it. Miss says, breaking the fourth wall, “Oh sweetie, this is going to suck.” And I know why. Whatever wasabi is left over goes into my mouth. I chew and swallow and gasp and I am given water to wash it down but it does indeed suck and I can pamukkale escort feel my face burning and the sweat building on my upper body as my mouth and throat burn.

As I suffer, I am wiped off from neck to toe, and then I feel something placed into my mouth. It’s a tube of sorts, made of metal. My head is lifted and it is secured behind my head. Miss says, “How about some drinks and a smoke, ladies?” They all agree, though apparently only three are smokers. For the next period of time, I feel ashes tapped on the ashtray that my mouth has become, some wine and whiskey and port finds its way into my mouth, as well as spit from time to time when one of the ladies puts our her cigarette under my tongue in the mix of saliva and liquid that has formed there. Then the butts are deposited in my mouth for me to chew and swallow. I know Miss smokes herbals and it seems like one of the other smokers does too. Miss rolls her own and they have filters just like other cigarettes though no nicotine. The third smoker is smoking regular cigarettes and I can tell by the taste. I swallow at least two of her butts which is usually my limit for real cigarettes.

Their conversation continues about things that don’t concern me. From time to time, one or two of them sit on my chest or midsection or thighs, using me as a cushion. After a while, Miss says, “Wow, I am about ready to burst.” I snap out of my reverie because I know what is coming. Usually, when I have done this, I figure the top has drunk a lot of water. Today, I have no idea what to expect. The ashtray as unbuckled and removed and I feel a short tube being put into my mouth and secured behind my head. Miss says, “Believe it or not, it showed me this trick” and I feel something attached to the tube gag. I know the trick now. She has cut the bottom off of a gallon jug, turned it over, and fitted the mouth of the jug into my gag. A funnel of sorts. I feel a pair of plugs fitted into the nose portion of the mask and it becomes all the clearer to me. I moan into the gag and the ladies all laugh. Two are still sitting on my chest and legs as I hear some rustling and then notice feet by my head and shoulders.

I imagine that Miss has climbed onto the table and is squatting down over the jug, ready to relieve herself into me, her toilet for the evening. I hear her sigh and that is the only warning I get as the sharp taste of the piss fills my mouth. As I start to swallow, Miss says, “Wait, hold it!” and I stop swallowing. I continue to hear the stream filling the jug, feel the heat of my cheeks burning with blushing, and try to breathe through my nose but remember that I can’t. I am helpless. It is some time before the stream stops. Miss says, “Paper.” She wipes herself as my body shudders, starved for air, and she says, “Flush.” I eagerly gulp the hot, bitter, sharp piss down until I feel the soggy squares of toilet paper in my mouth. I hold the paper there as I finally breathe, my head swimming from the lack of oxygen. When I catch my breath, I continue to chew and swallow the paper. I had not noticed that Miss was no longer above me, so focused am I on the piss now gurgling in my belly mixed with the sushi, ginger, and wasabi.

I can’t help but burp and the ladies all laugh again. One says, “I have heard toilets bubble but never like that!” More giggling ensues and Miss says, “So, as our evening progresses, it can save you a trip to the toilet. This toilet, though, is only for pee. It is like we finally have our own urinal. Poo is another story and we won’t go into that now.” I am relieved to hear this as I have fantasized about that but know that I could not take it now.” Miss continues, “I know that some of you may not have peed squatting on a table, into someone’s mouth, in front of other people. If you don’t want to or can’t do it now, you will have other opportunities.

And the evening continues. Once in a while, I feel feet near my head and that is my warning. Each woman seems to taste a little different and I wonder if it is their diet. I lose count of the peeing and more than once there is a cigarette butt mixed in with the toilet paper that gets flushed. The breath play is intense because I don’t get much warning so don’t always have full lungs and, to a woman, they all make me wait to flush. My trapped erection is throbbing and from time to time it is sat on, slapped along with my squished balls, and otherwise teased. Part of the intensity for me is also the loss of time. I have no way to tell how much time has passed, no frame of reference, so I am completely lost.

I can tell that the night is winding down and the tube gag and jug funnel are removed and some water is poured down my throat. I feel the cling wrap being cut from feet to neck and the plus in my nose are removed. I stretch my arms and feel warm wash cloths swabbing my whole body, one left to rest on my cock, which has slowly gotten softer until it is flaccid. My stomach gurgles with the piss and my head is swimming again. I feel gloved hands on my cock and balls as they are pulled through the base of a tiny steel chastity device. My cock slips into the lubed front part of the device and it is locked. I swell while this is happening though still end up trapped.

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