"So, I understand Claire is your Dominant," Cynthia began as we walked toward the main part of the house. "She must have a tremendous level of regard for you, making you a part of the Gala competition. The two of you must have formed a wonderful relationship during your time together."
"I genuinely appreciate the compliment," I said. "I truly do value Claire and everything she has taught me about myself as a submissive. You're right about the level of our respect and admiration for one another. I couldn't ask for a better Dominant. Claire and I have grown to have a special level of trust between us."
"I envy you," said Cynthia. "That type of bond is unique and truly rewarding." Cynthia grew silent as we passed through a sitting room paneled with dark wood the focal point of which was a huge, rustic fireplace. She nodded in acknowledgment to a small group of women engaged in quiet conversation seated in overstuffed chairs near hearth. They watched us approach from across the room as we headed toward a wide hallway leading to the ballroom. I felt a bit self-conscious as I walked. My ball sack, still swollen after Amanda's drug treatment, flopped noticeably with each step. Cynthia's pace through the room was fairly rapid, which caused my balls to bounce as I strode to keep up. I fought the urge to reach down and dampen the motion of my balls. I don't think Cynthia noticed or particularly cared about my predicament. I felt my face flush, as one of the women offered me a wink and a smile as we passed.
Once we were outside of earshot Cynthia began speaking again. "Has anyone told you what's in store for you at this first event?" I was struck by the seriousness of her tone. I sensed she was trying to make a point.
"Not really," I said. "I mean, I know that I will likely be forced to cum. At this point, that goes without saying, right? Amanda and Claire made that pretty clear to me."
Cynthia smiled, but I could tell there was more to what she was thinking, despite her pleasant demeanor. "You say that so casually. I think it's because you don't really understand the magnitude of what you will encounter. Let me give you some context for what's waiting for you in the ballroom. Have you ever experienced how it feels to relinquish absolute control of your body to a group of complete strangers? You are going to be forced to submit to the desires and impulses of others, regardless of what they might be. Have you been in a situation where those strangers get to decide not only what to do to your body, but exactly how and when you orgasm?"
We had stopped walking, and Cynthia was looking me directly in the eye. "During past Galas, the competitive element of pitting three submissives against one another has made a significant impact on how these play sessions unfold. More than once I've been surprised at what I've observed. Members focus intently on whether, when, and how often you get off. What matters is what they want to see and how they want to be entertained. Your feelings and your wants are insignificant. No one is going to ask you if you really want to cum. It's going to happen, regardless. It's also not going to matter whether you get tired. And it's certainly not going to matter whether your dick gets so sore it feels like it will fall off. The rules of this game place absolute importance upon numbers and quantity. That is what will decide the winner. How many times has this guy gotten off? How much cum can we force out of his body? How long before we can make him cum again? Can we work his dick so hard that he passes out? Am I painting a clear enough picture for you?"
I stood silent, just looking at Cynthia. She did not smile, and she did not blink.
"Scott, you did not hear this from me, and I will deny ever having told you, but it is a fact that many of the members place bets among themselves picking a winner. Sometimes a fair amount of money is involved. Greed can be a powerful motivator. That provides even more pressure to win, or maybe to take action designed to sway the result. As the weekend continues, members get more and more competitive. They pick their favorites and develop a vested interest in how a particular sub is doing. A few Dominants have been known to undertake extraordinary measures in an attempt to influence who wins or loses. That's quite an intense situation for any single person to be in the middle of. Are you sure you're up to it?"
I was struggling to digest what I was hearing. I began to feel actual fear for the first time since I'd arrived. There was much more to this than I realized. "Cynthia, if you're trying to scare the crap out of me, you're doing a damn fine job," I said.
Cynthia finally smiled, sensing that she had gotten through to me. "Well, a little fear is a good thing. It shows you're sane. Truthfully, and I'm sure Claire and Amanda told you this, you will always be safe. I will make certain of that. But, I would be lying to you if I told you this was all going to be easy. I've witnessed the amount of sheer effort required by these competitions. You are in for a physical ordeal. Whether you'll enjoy it probably depends on your inner character, mental strength, and overall physiology." Cynthia resumed walking, and I fell quickly in behind. I was truly struck by the reality that she'd laid out for me, and significant doubt and uncertainty spread through my gut. Before I had any additional time to think, however, Cynthia and I reached a doorway at the end of the hall. "Well, ready or not, here we are!" Cynthia turned the handle, pushed the door inward, and we stepped inside.
The large, well-lit room was full of people. Virtually all of them were women. Most were engaged in conversation grouped in small clusters. The men that were present (all of whom I assumed were submissives) were naked or dressed in nothing more than a jock strap, thong, or some type of harness. Female submissives were present as well. They were nude or dressed in a variety of lingerie or harnesses styled to denote their status as subs. All subs, both male and female, were collared. Some were serving cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. Others were fastened with rope or chain to the wall or a piece of furniture as I had seen in the submissives room. Several were being attentive to one or more Dominants in various ways.
My attention shifted to the room's center, since that was where Cynthia was leading me. There I saw three large wooden tables positioned across the width of the room. It was easy to see these were no ordinary tables. Their frames were massive, constructed of heavy timber designed to support a lot of weight. The tabletops were padded and covered with black leather. I could also see various other brackets, latches, handles, and hinges the purposes for which I could not guess. However, there were numerous heavy straps, also made with black leather, riveted to the top and sides of the tables, and I had no trouble understanding how these would be used. Any lucky soul laid upon the table could be strapped down and easily immobilized. In this case, I knew that lucky soul was going to be me.
Cynthia brought me to the side of the closest table. "Scott, get onto the table and lie back, please." I hopped up, swiveling my hips onto the padded leather. Slowly, I laid back and stared up at the ceiling. Feeling the cold leather against my skin was familiar and pleasurable. I loved leather, and when I'm surrounded by it, leather always results in an erotic hold on my senses. I took a deep breath, taking advantage of the sensual aroma of the leather surrounding me as my body warmed its surface. "Time to get you situated," Cynthia said as she moved toward my feet. I tilted my head and propped myself up on my elbows to watch as she buckled the first of the straps around each of my ankles. "Please speak up if any of these straps feel uncomfortable. I don't want you to be able to move, but it's not intended to be painful. I know it might be tempting to let me get things really tight, but please use good judgment. You're going to be lying here for a while. I want good blood circulation." She moved to work on the next set of straps which were just above each knee. A third set of straps were situated so they could be used on the upper portion of each thigh. When she finished, my legs were firmly affixed to the table, spread far enough apart to allow easy access to my cock and balls, but not so far as to potentially cause cramping or discomfort.
Cynthia moved next to one side of the table. "I know you probably enjoy watching, but I need you to lie back down flat." I did as I was told, and she moved to secure my left arm with three more straps: one at the wrist, one just below the elbow, and one around the bicep. Identical straps soon followed on the right side. When I felt her reach across my body to buckle yet another large strap across my waist, the reality of my situation started to sink in. The sensations caused by the wide leather straps pressing against my limbs and the added stimulation of the strap across my waist actively triggered all my erotic buttons. I loved bondage. I loved being tied down, and my body was responding accordingly. I felt my cock start to swell. Cynthia was bent above my head working on the straps, her breasts just inches from my face. I could smell the fragrance of her perfume as she fastened still another strap across the nipples of my chest. Each nipple hardened as it was rubbed by the rough leather. More blood pulsed to my dick, and I felt the stiffness of my erection grow. "I see I've gotten your attention with all these straps, Scott." Cynthia said with a soft laugh.
