Milovana.com

Party Slave

by Master Ivan


“I don’t know, John. Sure, I can get into this stuff of tying each other up, but in the middle of a party?”

“I told you, Denise. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Everyone who’ll be there is into the B&D scene; you’ll be treated with respect. I’ve known these people for years -- you’ll love it!”

He had been easing her into the scene for months. She was beginning to sincerely enjoy being tied, teased, “Forced” to serve him; even light pain from nipple clamps or a moderate whipping was becoming a turn-on for her. She also was feeling more secure as a top, sometimes tying him up and sitting on his face for, well, as long as it took. Still, Denise knew and trusted John. She didn’t know the group he partied with, except that they were long-time veterans in the scene.

“Don’t worry -- it’s a good chance for you to experiment, feel yourself out, expand your limits, maybe even surprise yourself!”

“What the hell...”

“And remember, I’ll be there with you.”

“Let’s go.”

The party was held about twenty miles from the center of town. After a light dinner, and a stop for a drink, they arrived right at the official starting time, 8PM. The host greeted them, collected the modest admission fee and handed them each a numbered ticket.

“Welcome, John. This must be Denise, the girl you mentioned.”

“Yes. She’s new, but has a lot of talent. Tell me, what’s with the tickets?”

“A new idea we’ve come up with since your last visit. Starting at 9 PM, we draw a ticket every hour. As you know, we have a number of submissives who make themselves available as party slaves, public property. For a few parties, we would draw a number and give the winner the use of his or her own personal slave for the entire evening, with the option of taking them home overnight if both parties consent.

“Lately, we’ve recognized the fact that there are a lot of submissives here who wouldn’t enjoy having a slave. Also, there are quite a few switchables who can handle being either a Master or a slave, and who could use some added excitement. So we’ve come up with a variation.

“If your number is drawn, you then take a blind drawing from a bowl containing a number of plastic balls. Two-thirds of the balls are red. Draw one of those, and you get your slave. The rest of the balls are black. If you draw a black, you’re stripped, placed in restraints, and enslaved by the party-at-large for the entire night.”

John chuckled. “Sounds interesting.” He then looked at Denise. She held him close, not sure whether her fear or her excitement would take precedence. He spoke to her.

“What do you think, Denise? You don’t have to participate, although if you played along, it would be quite awkward for you to back out later.”

“It scares me, John. Still, there’s a growing wetness in my pussy that says I want to take the plunge.” She turned to their host and said, “Count me in!”

For the next hour, they played the normal social games. There was a bit of action as a couple of slaves were used and disciplined, and a couple more submissives were placed in public restraint. Denise warmed to the atmosphere, until she was interrupted by the announcement.

“Friends -- it’s 9PM, time for tonight’s first drawing!”

The guests drew into a circle around the host. He carried a clear fishbowl containing all the numbered ticket stubs. Everything was fair, open and honest. He reached in and drew a number.

“0-3-4-7”

A murmur ran through the crowd, until a dominatrix at the far corner, engaged in handling her male slave, responded, “That’s my slave’s ticket. He’s been bad tonight, and he won’t be allowed to use a slave.”

The host smiled, and said, “All right, then. We’ll try another number.”

Again, the hush fell over the crowd.

“0-0-4-8”

Again, the murmuring. Suddenly, Denise gasped. John looked down at her hands and realized, she held the winning ticket. He said to her, “You don’t have to follow through if you don’t want to. You’re not totally committed until you make your drawing for the colored ball. Of course, if you want to go for it,...”

“Stop, John. I’m not sure how heavy it could get. But there’s a two-thirds chance I’ll win a slave of my own. If I come up a loser, I still want to try. Promise me, don’t rescue me!”

He was shocked. She would, indeed, press her limits if she lost. Still, he would not stop her. She called out, “I’ve got it!”

She stepped forward proudly, presenting her ticket to the host. The second fishbowl was brought forward. It was also clear, and the red and black balls were quite visible, in the correct proportion. No words were spoken. Although a fresh newcomer to both the parties and the Bondage scene in general, she knew the rules. She was blindfolded, then she reached into the bowl and withdrew a ball.

With John looking in, not to mention the rest of the audience, Denise trembled. She held the ball in her closed hand. She scanned the crowd with her eyes, seeing their excitement as well. She knew that, as a newcomer, she would draw attention whatever color the ball was. John, also, was nervous, fearful. Denise worried a bit -- if things got too heavy, would he rescue her in spite of the promise she extracted from him? For that matter, could he? She opened her hand.

To her shock, the ball was black.

Two guests, both males, took her arms. She was now, effectively, a prisoner at her first party.

They removed her red blouse, revealing a black lace bra. Her short skirt was removed, exposing the filmiest, transparent black panties. Her shaved cunt could be seen easily through the panties. She also wore a garter belt, seamed stockings and a pair of four inch heels.

Her bra was removed. Her generously endowed breasts popped free, fully exposed to the gaze of the crowd. Some light applause was heard. Her stockings, garter belt and heels were quickly removed, leaving her clothed in only her panties.

She was brought to a doorway, the one connecting the living room, in which the drawing was held, to the kitchen, where most of the refreshments were served. It was the most heavily travelled spot in the place.

Leather shackles were fastened to her wrists and ankles. A massive, heavy leather collar was locked on her neck. It was over three inches wide, half an inch thick, bore several rings, and weighed several pounds. Her wrists were joined in front of her, then pulled high over her head and locked to a ring at the top of the doorway.

She was thoroughly exposed. Her arms were stretched, almost enough to draw her heels off the floor. Her skin was tightened, now more sensitive to even the drafts in the room. Her breasts thrust out proudly, begging for a caress or abuse. Although her legs were free, she knew her cunt was juicing with her arousal. The wetness in her panties could be seen, and her odor was apparent.

“Let her stew for awhile.” It was the host. He spoke to John, at his side, as they stood together observing her. “Give her time to build her arousal. We’ll increase her bondage slowly, before we use her.”

She moaned, both frustrated and humiliated. People brushed by her on both sides, with most using their hands on her body as they passed. Sometimes her nipples would be pinched, or her asshole would be fingered. A tongue on her breast, or a playful slap on her hip, she was kept highly aroused.

John approached again, from the front. His hand went right for her cunt. Although she yearned for that touch, her enforced exposure to so many onlookers caused her to rebel, tightly squeezing her legs together.

Their host showed up with two padlocks. Seconds later, her ankle shackles were locked, spread wide open, to the base of the doorframe, some three feet apart. This also stretched her body, and she shocked to find herself on tiptoe, her heels drawn off the floor.

The host, now directly in front of her, stared right into her eyes and placed his hand directly on her cunt. He drew one finger through her cuntslit, through her now-soaked panties, which caused her to moan deeply, nearing orgasm. She would not be allowed to come, though. Nor would she be allowed to close her legs.

Again, they left her. Again, she was subject to the stares, the caresses and abuse anyone cared to bestow upon her. After about twenty minutes, a woman stood before her. She was the dominatrix who refused to allow her male slave to benefit from the earlier drawing.

She examined Denise overtly, in detail, for a minute or two, then said, “I never did like big-titted bitches. I’m going to punish your tits.”

As Denise waited helplessly, fearful, exposed before their audience, the woman produced some rope. She passed the rope through the front ring on her collar, then began winding it tightly around her breasts.

Denise gasped as she felt her tits being slowly compressed by the rope. In minutes, they were two spheres, almost as tight as balloons, and they vibrated with her every breath. The Mistress caressed them gently, shocking Denise with their now extreme sensitivity to every touch. Her moans grew louder and regular, until the woman suddenly slapped her left breast, hard, causing her to scream.

“Enough teasing, bitch. Time for some pain!”

She took a small, miniature cat-o-nine tails off the hook on her belt. She swung it hard, striking Denise on her left hip. The backhand return stroke caught her right hip. As Denise cried out on every blow, the strokes continued and moved higher. She was not in so much pain that she was unaware of her motions. She felt her hips thrust forward, within their limited range of movement, on every stroke.

The whip rose to her ribcage. Denise’s screams got louder, as she grew more vulnerable and fearful in her pain. Then, the dominatrix stopped, looking into her eyes.

“Ever have your tits whipped, bitch?”

Petrified, shaking, she responded, “N-no.”

The woman swung hard, welting her abdomen. “That’s ‘No, Mistress’, cunt!”

“No, M-mistress. Please...”

“Good. That makes me the first.”

She swung. The whip wrapped around Denise’s left breast, pulling it forcefully in its tight rope bondage. She screamed in earnest now, as the second stroke flew to her right breast. A full dozen strokes fell on each of her bound tits before it ended. Denise’s screams continued, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

When her eyes opened, the Mistress held a handful of clothespins. Denise shook her head in fear. “No, please...”

“I’m sick of this pig’s whining.” With that, she reached down and tore off Denise’s panties. She wiped the girl’s crotch thoroughly, then stuffed the soaking wet panties in Denise’s mouth, tying them in with a leather strap.

Denise was mortified, as the taste of her own cunt-juice filled her mouth. Yet, even stronger than her pain and humiliation, was her arousal. It was, indeed, her own juice which soaked the panties in her mouth, and it was her arousal which caused it to flow.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the first clothespin, which suddenly clamped her tit-flesh below her right nipple. Denise inhaled sharply in response, then moaned loudly as her left breast was similarly pinned.

The Mistress alternated between the two breasts until each aureole was surrounded by a ring of six clothespins, a dozen in all. With Denise’s breasts already tightly roped, the pain was magnified tenfold. She was soon, again, in tears. Just as John appeared, smiling, watching her suffering, the woman simultaneously pinned both her nipples.

She had intended to say something like, “Please, John, I can’t take this.” What came out was a pure, full-bodied scream, muffled by her panty-gag. Applause rang out; even some photos were taken. John himself was among those applauding.

She hung in her bonds, suffering in pain and humiliation, as people continued to file past her on either side. All used their hands on her, keeping her aroused. Many also would tease her clothespins with a flick of a finger, or run a fingernail across her roped breasts, enjoying her reactions. She soon broke into a sweat, and her body gleamed beautifully in the lights.

Well over half an hour later, John came to her. “Time for your clothespins to come off. But he warned -- they hurt the most when they are being removed.” He removed her panty-gag, and put the panties in his pocket.

One at a time, he pulled off the clothespins. Each one caused her to scream as it was removed, and left a vivid red mark. He left her nipples pinned for the moment.

The host appeared. “As a feature attraction in tonight’s performances, you have aroused many of us. It is time you served our pleasure more actively.”

“Please...”

John stepped forward. “If you beg nicely to be fucked, your nipple clamps will be removed when the first of us gets off.”

“Oh, God, what are you going to do?”

John looked at the host. “She’s not very well trained as yet; I apologize for her.”

He turned to leave her. She screamed out, “No, please!”

He turned back. “Did you want something?”

“Please, John. I, uh, need to be fucked.”

John smiled. “That’s better. What do you say?”

The host unlocked her wrist shackles from their eyebolts at the top corners of the doorway. He quickly joined them behind her back as she groaned with the release of her long-stretched body. Her ankles remained shackled wide open. He then said, I’d enjoy her mouth. Would you like her ass?”

John smiled, and said, “Certainly!”

Denise groaned, “No! How about my cunt? You can’t do me like this...”

A rope was attached to her locked wrists, drawn up behind her to the eyebolt at the top center of the door frame directly above her, then pulled. To her horror, Denise found her wrists hoisted high behind her, until she was bent over ninety degrees and her arms pointed straight up toward the ceiling.

The host stood in front of her and revealed a sizable erection. Straining to raise her head, she noticed that doing so pulled upward painfully on the rope still binding her breasts. The host smiled down at her. “Suck it, slave!”

In pain, humiliated and exposed to the gaze and the touch of all present, she opened her mouth.

He thrust into her throat, maximizing his pleasure at her expense, guiding the movements of her head with two handfuls of her hair. Suddenly, John’s cock rammed into her ass.

She screamed, in surprise as well as pain, as they pumped her together. They played catch, thrusting alternately in her ass and mouth as they both built toward orgasm. She herself was getting more aroused every minute, in spite of the abuse, because of the abuse. She was as hot as a firecracker, but still a long way from earning relief herself.

She felt John’s cock swell in her ass and begin to spurt. As she groaned in her frustration, the host’s cock likewise began coming in her mouth. She swallowed most of it, the rest ran down her face.

As she slowly laved the host’s cock in his post-orgasmic afterglow, John withdrew from her ass. Suddenly, he pulled the last remaining clothespins off her nipples, causing her to scream at the renewed pain in her still-bound breasts.

The host withdrew from her mouth. Now, John stood before her, his visibly soiled cock inches from her face. “Clean me, slave!”

Sobbing, she said, “P-please, John,...”

He took a handful of her hair, squeezed hard, and said, “You had the option to decline earlier. You no longer have that option. Obey, or be punished!”

With her body in pain, and her tits still tortured by the tight ropes, she was in no position to protest. Her mouth opened, and her lips and tongue cleaned his cock of all the residue from her ass. She had volunteered to play the game. Now, she was learning just how high the stakes really were.

They lowered her wrists, but left them locked behind her. She was forced to her knees. The host began an announcement of the next stage of her ordeal.

“As you can see, tonight’s feature slut is progressing nicely. We believe it is time to offer her for your general use. Her mouth is now public property. Her tits will remain bound until she sucks off a full dozen of you. Line up!”

A small cheer rose from the group, and a line did indeed form. She gasped in humiliation as she saw it, well over a dozen people, both men and women, including the dominatrix who had bound her breasts in the first place. Even as the first cock drove into her mouth, the traffic continued to pass on either side of her, invariably caressing or pinching her flesh as they passed.

The man came quickly and was replaced immediately by a woman, so soon that the man’s come still dripped from her bound breasts as the woman sat on her face. Her head had to be pulled further back to eat her, which increased the already intense pain of her breast ropes.

It took almost two and a half hours. She sucked off well over a dozen people, including some other submissives, some of which were soiled from a prior fucking. Some of them had been so recently fucked, it took substantially longer to bring them off. Regardless, she was made to serve them all.

The dominatrix intentionally placed herself at the end of the line. Only when she was properly serviced would Denise’s tit-bondage be released. Naturally, she was the most brutal and took over twenty minutes to satisfy.

The breast-ropes were finally removed. She screamed loudly as they were unwound, and the marks left behind on her flesh would remain for hours. The host approached her.

“You’ve done well, slut! Now that you’ve proven yourself, you will be released into regular slave service.” Denise wondered what he meant.

“You’ll be freed from the doorway and placed in chains. You’ll move about as do the other slaves, serving drinks, pleasuring whoever demands your service, in whatever way they require. But be warned -- you may not have an orgasm without the permission of your Master, John, and you’ll be subject to full house discipline for any shortcomings.”

She feared what that might mean. One slave girl had her thumbs bound by a piece of rawhide and hoisted high above her, lifting her heels off the floor. Her Master was welting her entire body with a quirt. Another girl, her wrists locked behind her, had one ankle hoisted up high until her hips were three feet off the floor and only her shoulders remained at floor level. She was being punished by a Mistress, who was idly whipping her obscenely spread pussy with a small whip.

Denise served carefully. She fetched drinks, offered caresses, served as a footstool, shined shoes with her tongue, even was used as a chair by one man who sat on her back.

Her mouth was freely used, by both men and women, as well. Her ass was not off limits, either, as two more men chose to penetrate her there. Indeed, the only part of her left untouched was the one part she wanted touched -- her cunt.

Finally, approaching 2 AM, John and the host summoned her. She knelt before them, knees spread wide, breasts thrust out, wrists crossed behind her back.

“Slave Denise -- ” her Master began. (She was truly starting to think of him that way.) “You have served very well for an untrained slave. You have earned the right to an orgasm. Still, there will be a price to pay.”

“Yes, Master.”

A third man joined their circle. A huge black man, he stood, arms folded, displaying an exposed cock large enough to bring fear to the heart of a slave.

“You will sit on your host’s cock as he lies beneath you. As he fucks your cunt, the black man will fuck your ass. I will stand in front of you, and you will suck me off. You will bring yourself off first, then I will come in your mouth. Our host will then switch to your mouth for a cleaning, and you will finish him off orally as well. Finally, you’ll bring off this gentleman the same way.”

She sobbed quietly, fearful.

“If you do not submit, you’ll be locked into a chastity belt, including a large plug for your ass, and remain locked in it, without an orgasm, for the entire night.”

She lowered her face to John’s feet, kissed them, and said, “Please, Masters, use me as you will.”

Their host laid down on the floor. Denise’s hands were re-locked behind her back. Slowly, she lowered her cunt onto his cock and, moaning deeply, pumped him a few times. She then leaned forward, allowing the black man to enter her ass. He was certainly well endowed. With her cunt filled and stretched, it tightened her ass around the second man’s monster. It took a substantial, and some significant pain, but she finally buried it within her ass.

Finally, she raised her upper body and opened her mouth. John drove down her throat, and she started pumping away on all three cocks.

Predictably, she came quickly. Shamelessly, in fact. Her moans were heard even in the far rooms of the place where a few of the party-goers were not watching her.

She exploded into orgasm, pumping hard on the three men fucking her, sucking madly on John’s cock with her mouth and throat. She practically collapsed when she came, held up only by the cock in her mouth and a handful of her hair in her Master’s hand.

Recovering, she basked in her afterglow, until the three cocks pulsing within her reminded her of her commitment. She knelt naked, wrists locked behind her back. She straddled her host, his cock buried in her cunt. The black man’s cock filled her ass, still stretching her painfully, while John, her own Master, filled her mouth. Surrounded by an audience, she now had to finish off all three men with her mouth. And with her orgasm now behind her, she had to do it all without the initial support of her own arousal.

She knew John. She knew what he liked, what he required to arouse him and bring him off. In his highly aroused state, she had him shooting in her mouth in less than five minutes.

She was more worried about the cocks still filling both her lower holes. If either one came off prematurely, she knew she’d have to suck them hard again and bring them to a second orgasm with only her mouth before she’d be released.

She was made to rise slightly, allowing their host to withdraw from her cunt. He rose, and came to her face. She saw the flood of her cuntal juice, fresh from her orgasm, which bathed his still rampant cock. The odor was strong, intoxicating, as he moved closer. Her mind deep in submission, she opened her mouth.

He pushed his cock down her throat. She welcomed his thrusts, allowing him to penetrate her at will. She licked and sucked him greedily, now turned on by the taste and smell of her own juice. And now, with her cunt empty and the huge cock behind her still plowing her ass, her degradation was complete. When the host came, he withdrew for a moment, allowing his come spurts to bathe her face and breasts before reentering her mouth and allowing her to swallow the rest.

Again, she cleaned him gently and thoroughly with her mouth, all the while feeling his come drip down her own face and body. With her hands locked behind her back, she could do nothing to clean herself.

The black man withdrew from her ass and came to her face. His cock, also, was covered with residue, but from her ass this time. Still, she had to finish servicing him. She opened her mouth, and her lips and tongue began cleaning him.

Now, it was the interior of her ass that she tasted. The several dozen observers were well aware of this. Again, she felt the total degradation, the total humiliation of her servitude. She buried herself in those feelings, making every effort to suck his soiled cock with devotion and love, even as the come from the two previous men dripped down her body. Her own arousal returned quickly, but now her lower holes were empty. She was to give pleasure, not receive it.

Suddenly, she stopped, pulling her mouth off his cock. As the black man tightened his grip in her hair, to force her back to her duty, she cried out, “Master, please, whip me until he comes!”

John looked back into her pleading eyes, shocked, but knowing. In seconds, he stood behind her holding, not a whip, but a malacca cane.

The black man, equally shocked, relaxed his grip. Voluntarily, when she saw John ready behind her, she smiled at him, almost defiantly, waiting. He did not keep her waiting long.

He commanded, “Suck him off, cunt!”, and swung hard.

Denise screamed, shocked by the unexpected intensity of the pain. She also dove back onto the cock she was sucking off. She moaned loudly with the pain whenever her throat was clear to do so, but she never tried to stop. The black man’s hands tightened again in her hair, totally controlling her movements.

Finally, the intensity of the scene caused the man to go over the edge into orgasm. He, too, withdrew just long enough to shoot once in her face before again plowing into her mouth to unload the rest down her throat. He himself screamed as he came, while Denise, still being caned as she sucked him, screamed in pain when she could.

It was finally over. The cane stopped, and she cleaned the huge cock with her lips and tongue far longer than necessary. The man withdrew, and she knelt alone, naked, wrists still locked behind her, her body covered with both welts and come. There were murmurs of admiration from the audience, even some quiet applause, as the circle stood and simply enjoyed the sight of her for several long minutes. Denise herself, again aroused and in need, bathed in her arousal, her pain and her humiliation, not wanting it to end.

Eventually, John came to her, keys in hand, intending to free her hands.

“No!” She surprised him.

“Denise, what do you want?”

“Please, Master, don’t free me.”

“Why not?”

She thought hard, but finally said, “I’ve found myself, Master. I am a slave. Please, leave me chained, put me on a leash, and keep me enslaved. Use me as you will, train me as you’d prefer, give me to whomever you’d like. But please, don’t free me.”

John smiled down at her. He considered kissing her, but her face was still defiled with the come of all who had used her, some of it his own.

He did get her leash. Tapping his thigh, he said, “Heel, slut!”, and walked to the kitchen to get himself a drink.

On her knees, the slave Denise followed, happily.


Copyright 1992 Master Ivan Press

All rights Reserved.