It was a weird sort of party.
I was the third choice of Susan, my date, but she said she didn't like turning up on her own. I told her it was a 'bring a bottle' party, not a 'bring a bloke' one, but I really didn't mind. Of course as soon as we got there, she spotted some of her friends I didn't know, so went off and left me.
That's when I looked around and decided it was a weird kind of party. Quite a few people were wearing leather trousers, or rubber tee- shirts. And there were a couple of blokes kissing each other in one corner. I've seen that sort of thing before, but it's not what I go out of my way to find.
I sat down to watch all this strangeness, and a guy offered me a drink from a tray. But the guy was wearing a leather mask which didn't look like it had a mouth hole, and his hands were chained to either side of the tray he was carrying! Trying not to look shocked, I took a drink, and he walked away, rattling his chains.
This room all seemed just too odd for me, so I thought I'd go look around the rest of the house. In the hall, I heard one of the coats on the coat-stand coughing! I rummaged through all the layers of coats, to find a girl dressed in a very short, tight leather dress, with her hands tied up to the top of the coat-stand! She had a leather strap around her head, holding a large red ball into her mouth. I was horrified at what sort of man would just leave her, tied up like that. I untied her gag, and asked her if she wanted to be released.
She looked at me very indignantly, and said, "Of course not! Put my gag back!"
Clearly I just didn't understand these people - but if they wanted to be subjected to this stuff, I wasn't going to argue.
As I was retying her gag, I felt a tap on my shoulder: it was from the handle of a whip being held by a person - female I think - dressed head to foot in leather. It just said, "Go find your own slave," and pushed me aside.
I walked up the stairs and sat down in the upstairs corridor. I wanted to know more about what these people were doing, but I didn't know what to do or how to act. But it was quite exciting to find that girl tied up and helpless in front of me, even if I didn't understand it.
As I was trying to think of a way to introduce myself to this party, a door opened next to me, and a guy walked out - quite normally dressed, for once. He turned to me and said, "Okay, your turn. Oh, give the clamps another five minutes." Then he walked away.
What? I had no idea what he was talking about, except that he had left the door open, and it looked inviting. I peered in and it looked completely dark. I had nothing to lose, and was dying to know what the 'clamps' were - probably something very perverted, but I had to know. So I went in and closed the door.
At first I could see very little except a body laid out in front of me, mostly naked and quite female. But as my eyes accustomed to the low light, I could make out other details: she had a hood covering the whole of her head; her arms and legs were stretched out to the corners of the bed she was lying on, and held in place with chains; there was some sort of machine on each breast, and another over her genitals. And ever few seconds, I could here a little grunt or a groan.
There was a sign on the headboard, saying, "Please use any torture from the book except those starting 6 6. Thank you."
How bizarre! She had laid here all night, inviting strangers to torture here! From the looks of others at this party, I had to assume she had volunteered to do this.
But at the same time as I was struck by its strangeness, I also felt the power that I had over her - she was trusting me with her body, letting me hurt her. I felt both empowered and terrified. I had to find out more, so I could discover what having control over her was really like.
On the side table was a book and three dice. The book was called, "Torgate's Book of Random Tortures", and was open a page 3.2.5, "Tugging and Twisting Nipple Clamps". The numbers on the dice were 3, 2 and 5.
I looked back to the gadgets on her breasts. Each had a wide ring pressed around the base of each breast, with struts holding a box above the nipple. A rod came down from the box, with three fingers gripping the nipple and pulling it away from the body. Ever few seconds, one of the rods would either pull on the nipple, or twist it: each time it would cause a moan of pain from the wearer.
How cruel! She must love it!
I had been in the room for about five minutes, so I should have removed the devices. But I thought I would experiment with them first. They had a few controls on the top of the box, so I turned one dial. The frequency of tugs and pulls increased, as did the frequency of moans and grunts from the wearer.
I turned another dial, which increased the distance through which the nipple was tugged or twisted. This caused the girl to make irregular noises and throw her head from side to side. Then I stood back and watched as she started to twist her body, pull at her arm restraints, and kick with her feet.
It was incredibly erotic to know that I controlled the agony she was going through, and that she wanted me to inflict this and more on her.
But at the same time, my humanity side saw the real pain she was going through, and I couldn't resolve that feeling with the belief that she wanted this to happen. So I pushed the red buttons on the top of each breast tweaker, and they dropped their nipples. The victim gave what I'm sure would have been the loudest cry of pain possible, had it not been for the gag muffling the scream.
She was still sobbing as I took the machines off her, but I brushed past one of her red swollen nipples, which caused another stifled shriek of pain.
I couldn't wait to try something else on the poor, unsuspecting girl. I rolled the three dice, and looked up the numbers in the book. The page was titled, "The Crawler." I read the instructions, which told me to open a box on the floor. Inside it was a small, spider like robot, with a dozen feet, some with needles and some with suckers.
I put it onto the girl's stomach, and switched it on. It crawled around her body, poking her with the spiked feet, and staying on with the suckers. She squirmed and shook to try to get rid of it, but it wouldn't fall off. It slowly scuttled all over her body, including over her leather covered head, and made her frantic when it poked her still swollen nipples.
I sat down and rubbed the crotch of my trousers, feeling how hard my cock was getting just by thinking what she must be feeling. I never knew I could feel this horny just through the feeling of control and second hand pain. Every flinch and every grunt spoke power to me. Erotic power.
The spider was crawling along the side of her ribcage, causing her to squirm and buck, when I turned to the book to find out what her next torture was going to be.
I rolled the dice, and they came out to 6, 6 and 4. The sign had said, "Any torture except those starting 6 6". This was a forbidden torture. I turned to the back of the book.
The page was titled, "Genital electrocution", and detailed the controls on the device covering up her pussy. It explained that the power dial had a range from 1 to 10, and that over a period of 15 minutes, the dial should be turned up to its full power, at which point the wearer will "be subjected to unbearable agony".
I switched on the device at power 1, having decided that I would stop at power 8, so not making the torture as bad as the 6 6 tortures were supposed to be. She did not seem to notice power 1, so I switched it up to 2. Then I heard a soft moaning from the hooded slave, and saw a slight movement of the machine on her pussy, as though something inside it were moving around.
When I switched the power up to 3, the unit was clearly moving up and down, and her hips were moving up and down with it - from the sound she was making, she was loving being fucked by this box. But the sound changed at 4, when she started gasping, and her thighs tensed up. The sight of this helpless girl bearing all this erotic pain at my fingertips was too much - I unzipped my trousers and started stroking my cock.
By 5, I could see the box moving up and down inside her. It looked like each time it plunged into her, it gave her a sizeable electric shock, which made her legs tense and twitch as she cried out. But still she was bucking against the force of the box ramming into her pussy, trying to fuck it as it fucked her. I stroked my meat harder, wishing I was that box.
I reached over to turn the dial up a notch, but I mis-timed, and my hand hit the box as she thrust it up into the air one more time. I hit the power dial over, I don't know how far, but too far.
She screamed through her gag. Her whole body tensed up and contorted, thrashing and writing.
In an instant I had slammed down the red button and stopped the box, then I rushed round to the head of the bed. Within a few seconds she had stopped thrashing, and her body had gone limp. I was sure I'd killed her. I pulled at her hood to try to get it off, but it wouldn't stretch. Then I realised that was because it was leather and was zipped up at the back. I pulled up the zip, and dragged the hood off her head.
Then I realised she was breathing heavily, so wasn't dead, but she was just staring forwards into space. She was still gagged, so I unbuckled the strap holding the ball in her mouth, but she didn't say anything, just stared and panted.
I shouted to her, "Can you hear me?! Are you all right?!"
And she replied, slowly and quietly, as a broad grin appeared across her face, "That was fantastic."