I'm a Slave? Part 3
"Welcome to the Ex-Girlfriend's Revenge Room," the black woman with very pretty eyes in a short black skirt says to me with a truly evil smile. Hearing this makes my stomach drop. I'm not sure if the name is some sexual reference that I don't know, but it sounds painful. Very painful. There's nothing more vengeful or pissed off than an ex-girlfriend you did wrong.
As I'm dragged by my hair into this room, completely naked, I fight hard not to start sobbing. I was just gangbanged by 9 or 10 guys. My poor womanhood throbs in a way I've never felt before as a train was just run on me for the first time ever. And now these 2 women are forcing me into the "Ex-Girlfriend's Revenge Room," to do who knows what to me.
I just want to go home. I want this all to be over. I want to be on my couch, in my pjs watching bad movies on Netflix. Haven't the people at this convention done enough to me? I mean they have already made me into a hucow, milked me, put a bell on my neck and then gangbanged the hell out of me. Haven't they done enough? Can't they just let me go?
Several months ago, while tipsy I signed up for a special convention with a sexual focus. Since I was tipsy at the time, I put down all the kinks that I've always wanted to try, like an idiot. I went to the convention tonight in an effort to try and get out of this, as if you don't show up, they keep the huge deposit that you have to put down when you sign up.
All I wanted was to get my money back and go home. That's all I wanted. Yet they refused. And now they are doing all of this to me. First it was being forced to strip as I am a slave. Next it was the hucow training. Now they took me to "Department A" which has 4 rooms, and the first one was the gangbang room. I'm currently being dragged into the second room and who knows what they are going to do to me. That means after this room, there's still 2 more to go.
No. I don't want to do this any more. I want it to stop. I can't take any more.
As I'm dragged forcefully by my hair, I open my mouth to say my safe word. They made sure to let me know that once you say the safe word, they will stop instantly. No one will hurt you anymore.
My mouth is open and I take in the breath to say the word, but then stop myself. I don't say the word. I don't because I think of all that money. Money I worked hard for. Money they will get to keep if I quit before it is over.
"Put your hands up. Put your hands up!" The other woman, who is a Middle Eastern woman in a pants suit, barks angrily, knocking me out of my thought. A cry escapes my lips as she strikes me right on the ass with something, something that stings worse than anything I've been hit with on the ass before. The stinging pain of it lingers, making me move my hands behind in pure reaction.
Getting a glance at it, I see that it is a fancy looking paddle. She then swings it again as it comes back towards my ass. It makes clear contact with my bare ass and makes a loud slap sound as that sting runs across my bare skin.
It's the pain of the second hit that makes me put both hands up. I don't want to be hit again because I don't want to feel that pain again. I know one of the kinks I put on the application was to be spanked, but damn it, this hurts! It's not the light and sexy spanks that I've seen in movies but stinging, personal strikes that leave marks. This is punishment, not pleasure.
The woman slaps my ass again, even through my hands are up in the air. I cry out with pain as she does this, as I know she's doing it just to be mean. A stinging, throbbing pain threatens to overwhelm me and when she hits me again, I thrust my hips forward in what is for sure a comical reaction.
I then see why I was told to put my hands up, as 2 chains hang down from the ceiling, which have shackles at the end. These chains are bolted to the ceiling and look extremely sturdy. I get now that they mean to bind me, to string me up so I'll be helpless.
"No!" I cry and try to make a break for the door. Only, with practiced ease, the one with the pretty eyes grabs my left wrist and pulls, locking it in the shackle with grace. I protest and pull my right hand away, but she very calmly manages to grab my other wrist and yanks, forcing it up to which she locks it in the other shackle.
Surprised at how fast she was able to do this, and how strong she is, I pull on the shackles to find that they are very much real. They are made of metal and are already digging into my skin as I try to pull my hands out. They are made of cold steel and even if I hang on them with all my weight, my hands aren't going to get free.
"This....this can't be really happening," I say out loud as I look at my shackled arms. I'm not a sex freak. I'm a normal woman. I don't do anything crazy or weird. How did it happen that I'm naked with both of my arms over my head and shackled, making me helpless? This...this isn't me. I don't go around acting like a cow, or letting men gangbang me. This isn't me. I want to go home.
"Slave 031, full treatment," the Middle Eastern tells her partner after looking at a tablet. To this I groan as the words "full treatment" cannot be good. A part of me wonders what they are going to do. It's not like there are instructions or even a clue about what they do in this room. All I know is that whatever it is, it'll be humiliating and painful, making me feel like less of a person than I do now.
"Tell me what a bitch you are," the Middle Eastern woman demands as she walks towards me, showing me the long black paddle that has holes placed every 2 or 3 inches. I look at her, not sure how to respond to her demand. For a moment I consider saying the safe word, as she seems so pissed and wanting to take it out on someone, but the moment I think this, I think of all the money I'll lose.
I try to think up something to say as it's clear she wants to hit me, and I don't want to give her a reason. But then I look beyond her at the walls of this room. My eyes widen to the point I fear my contacts may fall out as I see what hangs from the walls.
"Oh hell," I gasp. Looking about, I stare at the walls which almost makes me pee myself. All 4 walls are covered with what looks like weapons. Well, I know they aren't really weapons but technically sexual toys, but to me they look like weapons. They are hung with care all over the place and organized by size, or so it seems.
There are whips, clamps, chains, floggers, rope, thick rubber bands, leather belts, paddles, cattle prods and dildos. In fact, there's an entire wall devoted to dildos, from small ones to motorized ones, to one that looks like it could kill you if they tried to use it on a normal person.