This FICTION story contains elements of non-consent, bondage, abuse, humiliation and other darker types of kinks. If such things offend you, please do not read. This story is meant for entertainment only for those that can tell fiction from reality.
Everything seems to go to white as I think about all that has happened tonight. I've gone body and soul to a place where I can no longer really feel anything physical but emotional. A place where my body feels more alive than I ever believed.
The night started normal with me just wanting to go to this sex convention and request the large deposit that I put down, as I no longer wanted to go through with any of that which I signed up for, which was to be a slave. But that's not what happened. I was intimidated and made to strip in front of others or else lose all that money. Then they did as they wanted as they took me from room to special room as they did all the kinks that I had signed up for. And I can't even say how many times tonight I've regretted signing up when I was drunk as I was so very honest with the kinks I wanted to try.
I've been made into a hucow, complete with a bell strapped around my neck, was gangbanged by a group of ravenous men, was sodomized and abused by a pair of lesbians with strap on's, had my breasts tied, clamped and a leash attached to my nipples, was made into a gloryhole whore for both men and women, showered off in public and then just had a train ran on me by men with the largest member's I've ever had, where they used me in every possible way all at once even doing an Eiffel tower on me.
And now I'm being led through the main convention floor by the leash attached to my nipples, my body still coated with cum from the train that was run on me. Everyone can see all that's been done to me. Everyone can see the marks and bruises, like how my ass is red from being spanked repeatedly. Everyone can see that I am a slave that they could bid on during the auction, even if I'm still trying to think of a way out of this.
To make matters worse, one of my assistants from work just saw me like this. Stopped me and the little bitch even put her fingers on my clit knowing full well I couldn't do anything about it as my handler was watching. So she got to rub away on my sex, knowing what it would do to me, then laughingly stopped and implied she was going to bid on me. Oh how I dread going to work come Monday.
I come out of my daze of deep feelings and back to reality, where I'm walking in the middle of a huge crowd on the main convention floor. My tied breasts bounce with each step and I feel the cum on me starting to move downward. I keep my hands behind my head as I was told and my eyes stare forward in an attempt to not see the dozens if not hundreds of people looking at me...and smiling.
The guard who is leading me is clearly heading for a hallway up ahead, a hallway with the sign, "Restricted: Slave processing." I sigh when I read this as I know it means even more is about to be done to me. Even more of my dignity to be removed and replaced with a dark sexual urge. What doesn't help is that my guard is constantly being asked what is my slave number by people who mean to bid on me later.
As we walk into the brightly lit hallway, I am happy to be out of view of all those prying eyes. I'm not sure if I would be able to take seeing someone else I know. What if someone else from my work saw me like this? What if a neighbor? What if someone from my church? And what if it was someone I didn't like and they got to do something sexual to me? That would be more than I could take.
I'm led into the first room off the hallway, which is a locker room. The guard still says nothing as he leads me into it, past the benches and into the shower area. Oddly, there's no signs about if it is the male or female locker room. At this point I guess it doesn't matter.
The guard leads me into the shower area to which he brings to a wall with the shower head sticking out overhead. Not saying a word, the bastard takes the leash and ties it to the showerhead, as if I was a horse. Only to be an even more complete bastard, he keeps pulling on the leash until my tender boobs are pulled upward by the nipples, making me yelp out.
"Grab the head, and I mean the showerhead," the guard says and I hear the smirk on his voice, implying that I'm such a whore I might try to grab his manhood instead of the showerhead. Knowing that a retort would only lead to punishment, I lift both hands to the shower head while looking furious.
A moment later my hands are cuffed directly to the shower head, making sure I can't move from this position as both arms are pulled upward as if to match my boobs. Testing it, I find that the showerhead is very firm and there's no way I'm moving from this position. That I'm stuck like this, my breasts lifted upward as I stand on my tiptoes.
The guard then walks away while I hear footsteps coming towards me. A moment later, two women in bathing suits come up on either side of me. Without saying a word, one turns on the water, which pours down on my face. At first it is freezing, but it quickly turns warm. It actually feels good as the warm water goes all over my body, gently caressing my abused form.
I shudder as I feel cold goo being poured over me from overhead. Looking, I see the two women are pouring liquid soap over me. A moment later, they have loofahs with long handles...and start to clean me. They move the loofahs all over my naked body, cleaning away the sweat and cum that clung to me from the last room. Neither says anything as they do this, wiping away, then letting the water wash it off, only to put more soap and repeat. What makes it humiliating is that they make sure to keep their distance as if I'm that disgusting or that they might catch something.
One of the women smacks my ankle on the inside of my legs, implying very clearly for me to spread my legs. Humiliated by this, as full-grown women are cleaning me, I spread my legs and immediately feel the loofahs moving up and down my inner legs and thighs.
I groan and moan as they move over my womanhood, where they scrub and rub for quite a while, making sure that area is clean. They do the same with my breasts, only with them still tied and clamped, they couldn't really do that much. I feel very defiled and humiliated as these women clean my lady parts as if I was a car that rolled into the car wash.
"Oh, come on," I say as one of them takes a rag or sponge and I feel them cleaning between my cheeks in a very impersonal manner. My brief comment gets me a very hard and painful slap on my bare ass by one of the two women that makes me cry out. And that cry echoes back to me in this locker room.
"Shut up slave," the woman says, and slaps my bare wet ass again. Feeling the sting, my hips move forward from the pain where I learn to be quiet from now on. At that, they move to my face, cleaning it over and over along with my hair. Soon, my entire body is cleaned, even my feet as they make me lift them to be cleaned, one at a time.
The water is then turned off and they start to dry me off with towels and I will admit, I do feel so much cleaner. All the nasty cum is washed off, leaving me feeling so much cleaner and not like a whore. It's funny how much a shower can make you feel better, even if it is a shower where you are a slave and bound.
My hands are then uncuffed and taken off the shower head, only to be re-cuffed a moment later while in front of me. The leash is also untied from the shower head, leaving me free.
"Thank you ladies," a very smooth and silky female voice says. The two women walk off, still not saying a word to me. Nervous and a bit scared, I turn towards the new voice. There in front of me is a very pretty middle-aged woman in a cocktail dress. Instantly I can tell how she is very educated, very sophisticated and very confident in herself. I'm not sure how I know this, but I do.
"Follow me dearie," she tells me in that silky tone of hers and very gracefully walks towards a door in the back of the locker room. I don't move at first, wondering if this could be my chance to run off. To run to my car and go home. But when I think of it, I don't even have my keys. And after all, I do have a safe word, it's just I've never used it. And at this point, would it even work?
"I personally dislike leashes for new slaves, but if needed, I can use yours to put you in line," she says in such a smooth manner that it takes me a moment to realize that she was warning/threatening me. Something about her voice makes her seem so elegant and regal.
Enchanted by whomever she is, I find myself walking towards her, only, I put my cuffed hands back behind my head not because I'm scared of punishment, but because I want to make this woman to say how good I'm doing. I want her to compliment me, even if for something as lowly as being a good slave. And so, I follow behind her as she disappears into the next room.
"Come in and put the chain of your cuffs on the hook," she tells me as I enter the room. This room is a rather dim room with dark walls, but there are several lights pointed at the middle of the room, where there's a hook hanging from the ceiling on a long chain. In any other setting, this would look like a horror movie, but here it doesn't. It looks clean and warm, like a game among lovers.
Doing as I am told, I move into the middle of the room where my naked body is engulfed by the lights so all of me is seen. With a deep breath, I put my hands on either side of the hook so the chain of the cuffs rests on the point of the hook. Almost at once, the hook starts to lift, taking the chain with it. Within seconds my arms are lifted up to the point I am on my tiptoes and very uncomfortable.
"My name is Mistress Dee, and if I instruct you to talk, you will end everything with that name, do you understand?" The woman says in a rather cheery tone as she looks at me. Once she says this, she removes the leash from my nipples, and then straightens the cowbell that's around my neck.
"I...I....Y-Yes...M-M-Mistress Dee," I answer, my face reddening as I say her name. Once again I feel the shame and humiliation of such submission as I've never used that term before in this sort of setting. The only time I've ever said mistress was to describe a side piece of some loser that cheated on his wife. But now, it takes on a different meaning as me saying it means that I know she is better than me. That she is the one in charge, and I'm just...a slave. And it is clear that she loves my embarrassment as my red face makes her smile.
