The Gala Ch. 04

"So, I understand Claire is your Dominant," Cynthia began as we walked toward the main part of the house. "She must have a tremendous level of regard for you, making you a part of the Gala competition. The two of you must have formed a wonderful relationship during your time together."

"I genuinely appreciate the compliment," I said. "I truly do value Claire and everything she has taught me about myself as a submissive. You're right about the level of our respect and admiration for one another. I couldn't ask for a better Dominant. Claire and I have grown to have a special level of trust between us."

"I envy you," said Cynthia. "That type of bond is unique and truly rewarding." Cynthia grew silent as we passed through a sitting room paneled with dark wood the focal point of which was a huge, rustic fireplace. She nodded in acknowledgment to a small group of women engaged in quiet conversation seated in overstuffed chairs near hearth. They watched us approach from across the room as we headed toward a wide hallway leading to the ballroom. I felt a bit self-conscious as I walked. My ball sack, still swollen after Amanda's drug treatment, flopped noticeably with each step. Cynthia's pace through the room was fairly rapid, which caused my balls to bounce as I strode to keep up. I fought the urge to reach down and dampen the motion of my balls. I don't think Cynthia noticed or particularly cared about my predicament. I felt my face flush, as one of the women offered me a wink and a smile as we passed.

Once we were outside of earshot Cynthia began speaking again. "Has anyone told you what's in store for you at this first event?" I was struck by the seriousness of her tone. I sensed she was trying to make a point.

"Not really," I said. "I mean, I know that I will likely be forced to cum. At this point, that goes without saying, right? Amanda and Claire made that pretty clear to me."

Cynthia smiled, but I could tell there was more to what she was thinking, despite her pleasant demeanor. "You say that so casually. I think it's because you don't really understand the magnitude of what you will encounter. Let me give you some context for what's waiting for you in the ballroom. Have you ever experienced how it feels to relinquish absolute control of your body to a group of complete strangers? You are going to be forced to submit to the desires and impulses of others, regardless of what they might be. Have you been in a situation where those strangers get to decide not only what to do to your body, but exactly how and when you orgasm?"

We had stopped walking, and Cynthia was looking me directly in the eye. "During past Galas, the competitive element of pitting three submissives against one another has made a significant impact on how these play sessions unfold. More than once I've been surprised at what I've observed. Members focus intently on whether, when, and how often you get off. What matters is what they want to see and how they want to be entertained. Your feelings and your wants are insignificant. No one is going to ask you if you really want to cum. It's going to happen, regardless. It's also not going to matter whether you get tired. And it's certainly not going to matter whether your dick gets so sore it feels like it will fall off. The rules of this game place absolute importance upon numbers and quantity. That is what will decide the winner. How many times has this guy gotten off? How much cum can we force out of his body? How long before we can make him cum again? Can we work his dick so hard that he passes out? Am I painting a clear enough picture for you?"

I stood silent, just looking at Cynthia. She did not smile, and she did not blink.

"Scott, you did not hear this from me, and I will deny ever having told you, but it is a fact that many of the members place bets among themselves picking a winner. Sometimes a fair amount of money is involved. Greed can be a powerful motivator. That provides even more pressure to win, or maybe to take action designed to sway the result. As the weekend continues, members get more and more competitive. They pick their favorites and develop a vested interest in how a particular sub is doing. A few Dominants have been known to undertake extraordinary measures in an attempt to influence who wins or loses. That's quite an intense situation for any single person to be in the middle of. Are you sure you're up to it?"

I was struggling to digest what I was hearing. I began to feel actual fear for the first time since I'd arrived. There was much more to this than I realized. "Cynthia, if you're trying to scare the crap out of me, you're doing a damn fine job," I said.

Cynthia finally smiled, sensing that she had gotten through to me. "Well, a little fear is a good thing. It shows you're sane. Truthfully, and I'm sure Claire and Amanda told you this, you will always be safe. I will make certain of that. But, I would be lying to you if I told you this was all going to be easy. I've witnessed the amount of sheer effort required by these competitions. You are in for a physical ordeal. Whether you'll enjoy it probably depends on your inner character, mental strength, and overall physiology." Cynthia resumed walking, and I fell quickly in behind. I was truly struck by the reality that she'd laid out for me, and significant doubt and uncertainty spread through my gut. Before I had any additional time to think, however, Cynthia and I reached a doorway at the end of the hall. "Well, ready or not, here we are!" Cynthia turned the handle, pushed the door inward, and we stepped inside.

The large, well-lit room was full of people. Virtually all of them were women. Most were engaged in conversation grouped in small clusters. The men that were present (all of whom I assumed were submissives) were naked or dressed in nothing more than a jock strap, thong, or some type of harness. Female submissives were present as well. They were nude or dressed in a variety of lingerie or harnesses styled to denote their status as subs. All subs, both male and female, were collared. Some were serving cocktails and hors d'oeuvres. Others were fastened with rope or chain to the wall or a piece of furniture as I had seen in the submissives room. Several were being attentive to one or more Dominants in various ways.

My attention shifted to the room's center, since that was where Cynthia was leading me. There I saw three large wooden tables positioned across the width of the room. It was easy to see these were no ordinary tables. Their frames were massive, constructed of heavy timber designed to support a lot of weight. The tabletops were padded and covered with black leather. I could also see various other brackets, latches, handles, and hinges the purposes for which I could not guess. However, there were numerous heavy straps, also made with black leather, riveted to the top and sides of the tables, and I had no trouble understanding how these would be used. Any lucky soul laid upon the table could be strapped down and easily immobilized. In this case, I knew that lucky soul was going to be me.

Cynthia brought me to the side of the closest table. "Scott, get onto the table and lie back, please." I hopped up, swiveling my hips onto the padded leather. Slowly, I laid back and stared up at the ceiling. Feeling the cold leather against my skin was familiar and pleasurable. I loved leather, and when I'm surrounded by it, leather always results in an erotic hold on my senses. I took a deep breath, taking advantage of the sensual aroma of the leather surrounding me as my body warmed its surface. "Time to get you situated," Cynthia said as she moved toward my feet. I tilted my head and propped myself up on my elbows to watch as she buckled the first of the straps around each of my ankles. "Please speak up if any of these straps feel uncomfortable. I don't want you to be able to move, but it's not intended to be painful. I know it might be tempting to let me get things really tight, but please use good judgment. You're going to be lying here for a while. I want good blood circulation." She moved to work on the next set of straps which were just above each knee. A third set of straps were situated so they could be used on the upper portion of each thigh. When she finished, my legs were firmly affixed to the table, spread far enough apart to allow easy access to my cock and balls, but not so far as to potentially cause cramping or discomfort.

Cynthia moved next to one side of the table. "I know you probably enjoy watching, but I need you to lie back down flat." I did as I was told, and she moved to secure my left arm with three more straps: one at the wrist, one just below the elbow, and one around the bicep. Identical straps soon followed on the right side. When I felt her reach across my body to buckle yet another large strap across my waist, the reality of my situation started to sink in. The sensations caused by the wide leather straps pressing against my limbs and the added stimulation of the strap across my waist actively triggered all my erotic buttons. I loved bondage. I loved being tied down, and my body was responding accordingly. I felt my cock start to swell. Cynthia was bent above my head working on the straps, her breasts just inches from my face. I could smell the fragrance of her perfume as she fastened still another strap across the nipples of my chest. Each nipple hardened as it was rubbed by the rough leather. More blood pulsed to my dick, and I felt the stiffness of my erection grow. "I see I've gotten your attention with all these straps, Scott." Cynthia said with a soft laugh.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment. "Sorry, mistress. I just can't help myself. All of this leather and bondage is kicking my libido into overdrive." My dick was rock hard now, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Cynthia reached for two metal fasteners located on either side of my neck which she used to secure my collar. "I suspect Amanda's drugs are partially responsible for that, but it's nice to think that I'm adding to your enjoyment." As the clips locked my collar into place, I realized I would no longer be able to move my head side to side or lift it more than an inch or two above the table. Cynthia's work had made me utterly immobile and helpless.

Cynthia's upside-down face suddenly appeared directly above mine. "Comfy?" she said with a toothy smile.

"Actually, yes," I said. "My body's bondage sensors are on high alert, and I'm loving how it feels to be strapped to this table. But, honestly..., aren't all these straps a bit of overkill? I would think ankles, wrists and neck would be enough."

"I'm pretty sure your opinion on that point will change shortly," said Cynthia. "You really have no idea what you're in for." Then she laughed as she playfully flicked the tip of my stiffened cock with a finger. I flinched reflexively, but I was shocked by how little my body could move. I was going nowhere until someone decided to release me. "Get ready, Scott. The festivities are about to start."

"Attention, everyone!" I instantly recognized Claire's voice speaking over a sound system. I found myself wishing I could see her, but since I was firmly attached to my table, my gaze was forced to stare at the ceiling. The conversation in the room subsided, and Claire continued. "I want to officially welcome you to this year's Gala! I truly hope each of you has been enjoying this time to mingle and meet one another, get reacquainted, or catch up with old friends. It is so wonderful to see you all. My warmest of greetings to those of you with whom I have not yet been able to visit face to face. I'm so looking forward to spending this time together over the next two days. I'm certain all of you are as well." As I listened to Claire speak to the room, I was quickly reminded of how exceptionally skilled she was in social situations. It was no wonder she had so many friends and was the founder of this group. In just moments, she had captured the entire room with her voice.

"Now, I'd like to draw everyone's attention to the center of the room!" Claire was obviously shifting gears into her best sales-pitch voice. "We are about to formally commence the Gala's annual competition. For those of you that have not yet met this year's contestants, let me give each of them a brief introduction. First, at the west table we have Ben. Ben is from Tulsa, Oklahoma, and is the submissive of Kimberly. You will all, no doubt, remember Ben as our champion from last year." There was an explosion of cheers, whistles and applause for Ben that caught me by surprise. The reaction forced me to realize Cynthia had not been kidding. The members truly did take this event seriously. "At the center table is Eric. Eric hails from Springfield, Missouri. This is his first invitation to the Gala, and he is the submissive of Cara." Again, there was enthusiastic applause and cheering, but clearly more subdued than what had just occurred for Ben. I dreaded what was coming next. "Finally, at the east table is our final submissive who is also new to our competition. As many of you already know, he's near and dear to my heart. Please welcome my own submissive from Wichita, Kansas,... Scott!" Thankfully, the applause was at least equal to what I'd heard for Eric. I felt flattered by what Claire had said. I wondered whether the attention I was receiving was genuine, or more because of Claire's position as host of the Gala and as my Dominant.

Claire reclaimed control of the room over the clapping and cheering. "It's finally time for us to see what each of these gentlemen have to offer! Who will be this year's champion? Will any of them survive the gauntlet of our physical challenges? Are all of you ready? I know I am!" The crowd responded again in earnest with more cheers and applause. Claire let the revelry continue on its own, and after a moment or two it began to subside. Claire resumed speaking above the murmur of the room. "The table attendants will now prepare each of the contestants for the first challenge. Let the competition begin!" Everyone in the room burst again into clapping and cheering. Some of the crowd began to shift toward the tables for a better view. I could hear the shuffle of feet as a crowd began to gather around me. The thought of it all was intimidating. Once again, I felt doubt creep into my mind, and I was asking myself what I had gotten myself into.

Without further conversation, Cynthia went to work. Immobilized as I was, I could only see a portion of what she was doing. A rectangular metal frame slid vertically into place on each side crossing the table directly above my hips. From the frame, Cynthia hung two bags filled with fluids and connected tubing of different colors to each one. More tubing ran away from the table and was attached to a steel pumping tank about the size of a gas can. "Okay, Scott. I'm not sure whether you've ever experienced a Serious Kit Milker, but you are about to get very familiar with this beautiful machine. It's truly an amazing piece of equipment. Let me give you a brief rundown of how it works. It is designed to do one thing -- pump cum out of your cock. I will insert your dick into a cylinder lined with a silicone sleeve. Tubing attached to the cylinder allows for lubricant to flow from these bags into the sleeve and for semen to be pumped out of the sleeve when you cum. The cylinder mechanism and tubing operate with a vacuum pump system, similar to that used on dairy cattle. The flow of lubricant is constant and specially formulated to protect your skin from the friction. You'll find out first-hand how important that's going to be. This machine doesn't get tired. Once this thing starts, it's going to continue to suck cum out of you until someone turns it off, and it's anyone's guess when that will be. The vacuum range of the machine has been limited by a mechanical regulator, and that's supposed to prevent it from ripping your dick off. Even with the regulator, the machine has an incredible range of intensity. It can be set anywhere between a long, slow, teasing stroke, and a rapid-fire suction that feels and sounds like a jack-hammer. All contestants are connected to identical machines. When this session is over, we'll measure each of your success by the quantity of fluid that has been pumped out and collected by the tank and, of course, by how many times you cum."

I had heard about Serious Kit, and I'd always drooled as I read over the details of the pumping machine from the company's website. They were outrageously expensive, so I assumed I'd never get to experience one. I completely agreed with Cynthia's assessment that the machine was amazing. It had been a long-time fantasy of mine to experience being milked by a machine like this. So, as I listened to her, I felt goosebumps rise on my skin. "Holy crap! This is just crazy. You've got to be kidding!" I said. I tilted my head upward the inch or two allowed by my neck restraint, and I watched as Cynthia's hands lubed my cock and slid it into the sleeve of the cylinder.

"Oh, I'm definitely not kidding," said Cynthia. "This is about as real as it gets." The sleeve felt wet and smooth, and it was cold. I could see the cylinder and system of tubing suspended directly above my cock from a pair of bungee cords hooked to the metal frame attached to the table. Cynthia continued with her explanation of the machine. "These bungee cords will allow the cylinder to bounce up and down freely with the changes in pressure and speed of the machine. The vacuum pressure created by the pump will do most of the work, but no matter how fast or how slow the machine strokes you, the bungees will control the motion just enough to keep the cylinder on your cock." I quickly realized the setup provided a very simple, but effective, mechanism for the machine to do its work.

"Okay, I am initiating the vacuum," Cynthia said. "Get ready." I heard the click of a switch.

"Geez!" I exclaimed as my dick was sucked forcefully into the depth of the cylinder. The pressure was intense, but if felt incredibly good. For the moment, the cylinder sat motionless, with steady, constant suction pulling on my cock. I felt my hard dick swell even more inside the sleeve as the vacuum pressure pulled persistently upward and induced blood and fluid to gorge the tissues of my cock even more.

"I'm also attaching these sensors to your chest and index finger. They will monitor your heart rate and breathing to help us verify each time you cum," said Cynthia. "Now you're going to find out just how much of this you can really handle. Best of luck to you, Scott." I felt her kiss me lightly on the cheek. "Ready or not, here we go!"

I heard the machine start to pulse, and I felt the stroking of the cylinder begin its work. It moved up and down in a slow, easy motion. At the top of the stroke, the cylinder rose, keeping roughly the top third of my cock inside the cylinder. Then, as the vacuum pressure pulsed again, the cylinder would slide downward, drawing the full length of my cock inside. With each downstroke, the cylinder base bounced lightly against my pubic bone sending a pleasant thudding sensation through my crotch and swollen ball sack. Immediately, the machine caused the vacuum pressure to pulse again, causing the cylinder to rise back up my shaft. This was the process that would be repeated - over and over and over. As I listened, the combined sound of the pump and slurping movement of the cylinder began to create a hypnotizing effect.

The body of the cylinder was clear, and I could see the fluid from the tubing dripping down into the sleeve, not unlike fluid from an I.V. drip bag. I could also see the bulge of my cock within the sleeve as it moved with each stroke. The sleeve swelled as my stiff meat was sucked into the cylinder by the vacuum on the downstroke only to deflate as much of my cock slid out with each upstroke. While the sleeve was fairly smooth, I could still sense friction as it moved up and down my shaft. The suction caused a constant rubbing against the swollen head of my dick. I was very thankful for the generous flow of lube into the cylinder. It was thick and slippery. With each downstroke, a small amount oozed from the cylinder, and I could feel it trickle down my taint. I found myself enjoying the sensation. Without the lube, I would surely be rubbed raw by this machine in no time.