In disbelief I stand literally outside of the convention and on the parking lot, naked as can be, my arms cuffed behind me, each breast tied, clamped and weighted, along with a cowbell collar around my neck. I stand in front of a group of the convention security guards as this is where I was led by the owner of the last room. The old bastard actually lead me here on a leash that was connected to my nipples.
"Stand on X," a blond woman says in a thick Russian accent while pointing at the ground in front of me. Humiliated as I am naked in front of all of them, I move forward and stand on the X that was made of duct tape. As I do this, two of the guards pick up the old and battered water hoses.
The old man who is the owner of the previous room said he was taking me here to get "cleaned up." I thought when he said it that this meant a shower or bath or something more dignified, but that's laughable. No, for slaves like me in this place, they mean to spray me down with a water hose.
As I've done over and over tonight, I think about how I even got to this point. Signing up for this convention seems so long ago that it could have been a previous life. After signing up while having too much to drink, I choose to be a slave and to experience every kink they offered, which was a mistake. And I never would have gone here if it wasn't for that huge amount of money I had to put up as a deposit, which they would have kept if I didn't show up.
Before I was going through all this because I didn't want to lose that money as saying the safe word will end everything, but they would get to keep the money. Now I don't say the safe word and end this because...I'm scared. No, scared isn't the right word. It's part of it, but not all. I can't explain it, but I don't say the safe word because it feels like it won't do anything. It's just a word spoken by a slave, who's going to listen to that? I know if I said it, they would listen and stop, at least that's what the logical part of my brain tells me. But another part, some dark part that loves all this tells me if I say the word, they will just laugh because, well, look at me.
Before I was telling myself that this isn't me, that I'm not a slave. I hold a master's degree and am in charge of over 200 people in my job after all. But after all that they have done, from making me a hucow and milking my tits, to gang-banging me, to letting women fuck me in the ass with dildos, to tying my tits and inserting a butt plug, to making me serve in a gloryhole...after all that I do feel like a slave. A slave who's only reason for being is to let others do such things to her and be told what to do.
"Spread legs, stick cow-tits out," the Russian woman orders. Knowing better than when I started this evening, I do as I am told instead of retorting to her and I spread my legs wide, to which my used womanhood throbs and the tail from the inserted butt plug hangs down. I arch my back as well so my reddish, tied breasts stick out, the clamps on my nipples looking like extension of my hard nipples.
I cry out a high pitch cry as the water from the hose hits me. The woman's stream hits me first, and the water is so very cold. It feels like needles striking my bare skin making me move back to try and get away. To this, nearly every guard yells at me to get back in place, which I immediately do. Something about a crowd of people yelling at you when you are helpless is a powerful motivator.
Then the other hose is turned on and sprays me on my right side. The two streams start to hit me, one moving to my feet while the other starts to spray my hair. Both seem to be moving slow to cover every inch as the one at my feet moves up and the one at my head moves down. I will say, when the spray starts on my face, the one who is spraying me tilts the angle so I'm not pounded in the face with the hard stream of water.
I'm given a shower like this, which I am guessing a shower in prison is like. Neither guard cares about being gentle either as they spray the hard stream full blast against my clit and womanhood, while the other does the same for my abused breasts. They go over every inch of my front, and then tell me to turn around, to which they repeat the process for my back side.
"Bend over," the Russian woman demands and a wave of humiliation washes over me as I know what this means. Facing away from them with my legs spread wide, I slowly start to bend over. Immediately, both hoses spray right in my private areas, making sure to clean between my cheeks. I'm made to stay like this for a good minute while they go over this area again and again. My face burns fiery red as I know all of them see my pussy clearly. Even after all that's happened tonight, there's something about a stranger seeing such a private place that is so embarrassing.
Finally, the water stops and I'm told to stand up by a new voice. Standing up, water drips off of me from everywhere as I am drenched. My wet hair clings to me and I shiver, not from the cold, but because I hear the sound of a car driving by in the close distance, which means they can clearly see me like this. The naked slave out in the open.
The security guard that was with me in the beginning walks towards me now. The last I saw him was before they grabbed me to drag me into the gang-bang room. He's returned now and has the same serious expression and menacing look as he did before.
Not saying a word and barely even looking at me in the eye, he walks up to me and holds the old man's leash in his hands. Neither of us say anything as he reattaches the two end points of the leash to my nipple clamps, meaning he's about to lead me to some new fresh hell.
And sure enough, he starts to walk off without saying a word, but has balled up his end of the leash so after a few feet of walking, it tugs on my breasts and lifts them until I start walking. Still dripping wet, I follow behind him as I'm led by my tits, wondering if I should ask where he is taking me. I know the old man said the next room was the "Eiffel Tower Train," but I'm not sure what that means. Then again, I probably don't want to know.
"H-H-How much more?" I ask the guard as he leads me, surprising myself as this came out without me meaning to. I want to know how much more they are going to do to me tonight. How much more abuse? How much more humiliation? How much more sex?
"Until you've felt all the kinks you signed up for," is his response which nearly makes me cry as that means that there is going to be so much more. I mean, I don't even remember all that I signed up for, but I remember there was like 50 boxes that I checked.
Holding back tears, I follow him as he leads me with the leash down a hallway, to another hallway until we are back in the first hallway of Department A. Only this time, instead of going the one way to the gangbang, ex-girlfriend and gloryhole rooms, he takes me the other way. I take it this means he's going to lead me out of Department A completely, which I would not mind at all.
The guard then stops at a corner of where two hallways meet. I truly begin to get worried because the guard waits there for quite a while without saying anything. I watch as the guard knocks a few times on this part of the wall, making it look like maybe he's lost it. He then starts to feel along the corner, then presses on something.
To my amazement, the wall pushes out to reveal that there's a door there, but it's hidden. The door was made to look like the rest of the wall and has no knob at all. Whatever he pressed on made the door pop out some so he could grab it and open it all the way.
Seeing this brings a surge of fear into me. Why would they need to hide this room? Why hide a room within a private sex convention? You can sign up for anything in this place, so why do this? Whatever the reason, it isn't going to be good because they clearly do not want people to know about this.
"In," the guard grunts while holding the fake door open for me. At once I see bluish white light stream out of the room, giving it a rather clinical feeling. Makes me think of when you go into the hospital for the operation when you know in the end you are going to be uncomfortable and in pain.
Whimpering as I cannot help it, I walk inside to see a smaller room compared to the others I've been in. The first thing I notice is there are 6 guys in this room. 3 are on the left side, watching football while drinking beer while the other 3 are sitting around on the right side talking to each other while drinking beer. All of them turn and look at me as I enter the room, much like a scene from a movie. I'm surprised there wasn't a record scratch sound to make it complete.
"Here, have fun," my guard announces, then tosses the end of my leash to one of the guys that was sitting and talking. The guy catches it as he stands up, having an extremely confused or surprised look on his face. He even looks back at some of the others as if saying, "Am I really seeing this?"
"Ok. I...I didn't think there would be anyone this year," the guy says more to himself than to anyone else. He then turns to look at the ones who were watching football. He gives a nod which is some sort of signal because at once they all get up and pull out a small pop-up table. It's like a folding table, but ΒΌ the size.
"Hate to be you girlie," the guy holding my leash comments. He looks me up and down as if not believing that I'm real. Or maybe it's to survey the punishment I've been through. In any case, the look he gives clearly shows that I'm just a piece of meat or a toy to him, and not a human being.
"These guys have been waiting all night. Normally we see 10 or so women, but this year, you have been the only one to sign up," the guy holding my leash says. He then laughs at this and starts to pull on the leash to gather it in his hands. I of course walk towards him as I have no choice since when he pulls, he lifts my breasts rather painfully. If only I didn't have these damn handcuffs on I could do something to get out of this.
Once in front of him, he removes the leash from my nipple clamps. I let out whimpers and winches as he on purpose pulls on the clamps and toys with them, knowing it hurts. Then, grabbing my upper arm at a painful angle as it makes me go to my tiptoes, he leads me towards that small table that has been set up. He pushes me forward against it, where I slam into it, the front of my thighs smacking against it.