Blake started to thank her but was cut off by the feeling of her mouth sucking on his pole again. When it was at it’s hardest, she took her mouth off, gripped it by the shaft, and slid a tight ring over his cock. “This is a cock ring, boy. It’ll make you stay hard no matter how uncomfortable you get.””Thank you, Ma’am,” he answered, despite the pressure in his pulsating erection and the hanging weight of his balls. Laynie rummaged through a nearby bag, then had him lift his left leg. He felt a soft ring slide up his thigh and tighten.
She repeated the same with the other leg. Then, she had him step into what seemed to be a pair of pants, but when she pulled it to his hips and tightened it, he realized that it only supported his ass cheeks and framed his cock. Laynie slipped on and tightened cuffs to both of his wrists, took off his metal collar and replaced it with one that was much more comfortable. Laynie fastened something around his head and told him to open his mouth. He was forced to bite on what turned out to be a thick, rubber, rod, which functioned as a bit. When he pushed against it with his tongue, he discovered it was unyielding.
“Position four,” she whispered in his ear. As Blake remained standing, he bent at the hips, grabbed his ankles and kept his legs spread. He could feel the new apparel spread his ass slightly when he bent over, only because of being tight against his firm muscles. More slaps fell across his bottom, and the backs of his thighs, except these, hurt far worse than Laynie’s open-handed spanks from before. The pain was localized and stung, instead of burned. He grunted as she whipped him to her heart’s content. In reality, it had only been six strokes across each side of his ass, but by the time she finished, his knees were quaking, and he struggled to remain in his position.
“Such a tough boy, aren’t you?” He tried to thank her, but the bit in his mouth prevented anything other than guttural sounds. She laughed at his pathetic attempt. “No need to speak the rest of the night, you won’t have anything to say anyway. Relax your ass, bitch.” Blake felt the cold sensation of lube coated fingers as Laynie pushed lube in and around his anus to loosen him up.
When he felt the hard, rubber tip of the butt plug, he took a breath, relaxed, and lightly pushed out to meet it. The pressure grew, Blake could tell the plug was more substantial than anything he’d ever taken, and eventually, it turned into a pain. He groaned into his bit but kept his head down and ass up, his grip on his ankles tightened as he struggled to accept all of the rubber. At last, the pain eased, and he felt his ass acclimate to the large size. “Good boy. You took that well, didn’t you?” Laynie said, rewarding him with a few strokes of his cock with her lubed hand.
“Position three, again, you’re almost done!” Blake stood, grunting and groaning as the plug shifted inside his ass. The bell behind his balls jingled, and Laynie stuck two familiar nipple clamps in place, drawing a moan from him. “Good boy. You ready for the reveal?” She used scissors to snip the band that held his blindfold in place and pulled it off his face. As he blinked to adjust to the fluorescent light which filled the room, he realized that despite a lack of peripheral vision, he was in some type of green room-like space, industrial, with a dirty sofa, a bathroom with a shower, and a wall of mirrors.
In this wall is where Blake saw his own reflection for the first tie. Laynie had truly outdone herself. His blood red cock stood proudly at attention, encircled at its base by the tight rubber ring. It was framed by a studded, leather jock strap that cut into his hips. Around his thighs, secured to the strap, were two thick bands of leather. Matching bands, but thinner, were on his wrists.
He wore horse-style blinders and a rubber bit, and on his head, a mane constructed of leather and feather decorations in the style of a giant mohawk. He, of course, wore his nipple clamps, but they were now decorated with an elegant gold chain with strings of black pearls which hung down to his belly button. The black shine of his newfound outfit contrasted with Blake’s matte, white, muscular form.
He looked beautiful but felt more like a decorated possession than a person. This was the precise feeling he sought with his continued forays into submission. As Laynie turned him around, he saw the large butt plug firmly planted in his ass was home to an elegant horse’s tail.
The color of the tail matched the mane, and for a moment he thought that the items must have cost a fucking fortune. Laynie herself was in the boots she wore earlier at home, but the conservative blouse had been replaced with a sheer corset and black bra. She also no longer wore any pants, instead, a pair of crotchless panties that revealed a small, delicate triangle of onyx, neatly manicured, pubic hair pointing down to a gorgeous pussy. The hair on her head was pulled severely into a fierce ponytail, and her makeup was sexy, with smoky eyes and lips painted garnet lips, which now smirked at her boy toy. She held in her hands a riding crop, that just looked mean. Together, they evoked a kinky equestrian and her horse.”You look amazing,” Laynie said to her slave.
He bowed his head. “Horses walk with high steps, but that plug must stay in place, if it falls out, you will be punished, severely.”Blake nodded in agreement.
She clipped his wrist cuffs to those on his thighs, a long chain leash was attached to his collar, and she led him out the door into a broad, dimly lit space. Blake’s eyes widened in shock. Across a vast, convention center sized floor, were a multitude of kinky, delicious scenes occurring. The lights were dim, and the blinders forced him to look forward, but he gazed out over the floor, he witnessed women beating men tied to poles, women being fucked with strap-ons, a much-accomplished dominatrix perused various leather goods with a harem of sissies behind her. He gawked in awe as he and Laynie were passed by a man in leather pants, wearing no shirt, and who led a woman in a vinyl bodysuit, desperately trying to follow him while on all fours.
The man checked Laynie out, and the slave following kept her head down, but admired Blake from the corner of her eye.”We have a designated slot, bitch. But before we go I’m going to give you this…” she took a red marker from a nearby table and drew a small circle on his chest and ass. “This means you’re free to touch.” He nodded in understanding. She also took a black marker and drew a cross on her chest, “This means I’m your owner.
People have to ask before they touch me, and must speak with deference. But no one has to give you any respect at all.” She leaned in close, “Just remember the safewords.” Then she walked and led him across the floor. Blake tried his best to maintain his high step after her and received a sharp strike from the riding crop just once when his knees were lower than Laynie’s expectations.
She made use of the bell between his legs to be sure he bounced enough. The crowd was denser as they approached the center of the venue, and they often had to walk through the middle of a group of people dressed in various shades of blacks and reds, laughing and flirting with each other, drinks in hand. When they walked through the crowd, Laynie strode ahead of her toy, ginning, as Blake was groped, spanked, fondled, and slapped. Once she stopped to chat with a woman in a fishnet and leather bodysuit, and when she did, the woman’s female sub took the opportunity to grasp Blake’s hard as steel cock, squeezed it hard and pumped it once.
Precum was oozing out in almost a steady stream, but this caused a flood of translucent liquid to pour into the woman’s hand. “Slut!” The dominatrix said, “Control yourself!” “Sorry, Mistress,” the slave responded. “Oh, that’s alright, Blake is meant to be used and objectified,” Laynie confided in the other Domme. “Still, we should keep moving.”They walked through an area with lots of men in leather, one of which pulled hard on Blake’s tail. He yelped and tightened his ass, knowing he’d be punished if it came out.
Laynie looked back, smiled, and continued their journey unencumbered. The man laughed, and Blake trotted on. Laynie led her prancing, jingling, ponyboy to an elevated area in the middle of the convention. Blake looked at a poster that listed a schedule, there, on the schedule, he found his and Laynie’s names. Apparently, they had a place set up for people to play in view of others. Fold-out chairs surrounded the middle, where a few people sat to wait for the next show, or to take a break between sexually charged scenes.
A voice sounded over a PA system and said, “Next up for your pleasure and ours, Mistress Laynie and her ponyboy, Blake!” Scattered applause cheered for them as Laynie led her slave onto the low stage. She looked at Blake and said, “Prance, bitch.” She led him in a prancing circle around her body.