Testing Zoe - Extract - Bondage

In the well-guarded car park of a secret suburban venue,  Zoe was pulled from where she had been lying in the  back of the car, with a blanket thrown over her, and  forced to make her precarious, hobbled way towards the  building.    Master Philip and Bret, both clad in tight black leather,  gave her a little pat on the bum and a word of  encouragement to see her on her way.    A security guard approached the trio.  "Sorry, but we're  asking people to be discrete until they get inside."    They all regarded Zoe - encased in rubber and rope, tits  out, and bent forward at an unnatural angle by the heavy  chain.    "Oh, dear!" said Master Philip, but quickly solved the  problem by fetching the blanket from the car and  throwing it right over Zoe.  "Will this do?"    The security guard nodded and grinned, and the two men steered their human tent  carefully to the entrance.    "I think we'll leave it on and have a bit of an unveiling," said Master Philip.  "I'm sure  people will enjoy the shock effect of the image our little lady presents."    And so it was with an even greater sense of isolation that a blinded, deafened sex slave  became vaguely aware that she was in the midst of a partying crowd.    People pushed against her, and quite a few had little gropes to try to see what was behind  the thick black blanket.    She was directed by her Master's hand on her head, onto what was obviously a  dancefloor - the loud throbbing music and flashing strobe lights reached her darkened  world.    All of a sudden, the blanket was pulled off her with a flourish, and she found herself  standing bang slap in the middle of a huge dance hall, with coloured lights flashing all  around it and white mist wafting around theatrically.    Peering through her eyeholes, she could see a huge ring of people standing looking at her  - and clapping.  Her bondage 'costume' was being applauded!    The people were a pretty kinky looking bunch, though none were dressed as severely as  her.  The ubiquitous colour was black, and there were plenty of stockings, corsets, and  naked and half naked tits on view.    Several of the onlookers were transvestites, some with stupendous wigs, and one or two  more unusual costumes caught her eye.  One man was dressed in a red 'devil' outfit, and  another sprouted angel's wings, for some obscure reason.    Many were smiling, though - it seemed she had made a good impression - and there were  some more appreciative nods as Master Philip and Bret each took up one of the leads  attached to her dog collar and began to parade her around, like a show animal on display.    Master Philip stooped down and opened the leg spreader to about three feet, and this is  how wide it stayed for the whole evening.    Never had Zoe known anything like it before.  What a situation to be in!  She felt so  disorientated, standing on that nightclub dancefloor with the amazing music thumping  through her and a hundred bizarre faces peering in her direction.  She felt like some sort of  strange novelty being offered to people to gawp at, and the feeling was a disturbing one,  particularly because there were other women in the crowd.  Dolled up, exhibitionistic  women, smoking and chatting and staring down their noses at her like she was some sort  of zoo exhibit.    Then she was plunged further into humiliation as one particular group of tarty ladies began  to laugh and gossip about her, in a generally uncomplimentary manner.    "Look at that fat bum!" they shouted over the music.    "What an utter doormat!"    "It's all very well," shrieked the loudest of them, "but what does she actually DO?"    Several of the other observers - male ones - were quick to respond to this question.    "I should imagine she does a fair bit."    "I bet she sucks cock pretty good!  Look how wide her mouth is stretched."    "I bet she gets herself whipped a lot as well, flashing an arse like that around!"    Master Philip had been listening and he enlightened the crowd.    "You're quite right about all those suggested uses, and the last one in particular.  My  colleague and I have decided to be very generous tonight and let whoever would like to  experiment with whipping a naked bottom do so with our slave.  Some of you, I see, have  your own whips with you, but if anyone should need to borrow one, just let us know.  Now  what do you think, Bret? Shall we perhaps lead the lady into a slightly quieter corner, and  tether her to a rail, or something?  Then whoever wants to, can come and lay a few strokes  across her bum."    "Good idea," said Bret.  "But perhaps you should give a demonstration of how it's done  first."    "Oh, of course.  I'll do it regularly, throughout the night.  Now come on, slave.  Time for  walkies again."    For all their harsh and formal tone, Master Philip and Bret were exchanging humorous  glances and in fact getting close to a schoolboy level of giggling and nudging and winking -  but Zoe missed all this because of her restricted hearing and vision.    It happened as Master Philip had decreed.  The party raged - people danced and drank  and talked and snogged and occasionally spanked each other - but for what seemed like  forever Zoe stood in one place on her high heels and in her humiliating posture, and  tolerated an onslaught of whip strokes on her bum.    She could tell which were delivered by Master Philip - the twenty hard ones at the  beginning!  And she even thought that she could recognise Bret's slightly lighter touch.   (He'd undoubtedly got more experienced and more interested in whipping since taking on  this assignment for Master Philip.)  But after that, there was no knowing who was whipping  her - or when exactly the strokes would fall, or quite how hard they would be.     She was pretty certain that some of the women had a go, but she tried to shut this out of  her mind.  All that mattered was standing obediently where she'd been told to stand, and  accepting the punishment that her two Masters wanted her to accept.    She concentrated on the idea of being nothing but a plump, prettily proffered, punishable  (and pink and painful) posterior - and found this thought hugely arousing!  Over a period of several weeks, Zoe got taken by Master Philip and Bret to several major  Fetish Clubs, ranging from small, intimate ones, which only a select few knew existed, to  huge high-profile ones that got reviewed in the arty press.    Each time she was decked out in some new and amazing bondage costume, paraded  around publicly, and then offered for chastisement throughout the course of the night  (except on those occasions when the event was too mainstream to make this possible, in  which case anyone who expressed an interest was asked to settle for a discrete grope and  maybe a few painful pinches instead).    Zoe enjoyed this period, not because of the punishment - though it did have its effect, and  remained always difficult to handle - and not because of the public element of these visits;  she wasn't really an exhibitionist and had never been particularly motivated by causing a  stir.  What she liked most was the fact that she had two men, who she knew to be  particularly attractive, concerning themselves with her in such an intense way.    She was a sex toy to them, that was true.  But she was something else too - the  embodiment of their fantasies, and therefore, though she knew they would never admit it,  precious to them.    She knew this by the way, occasionally, she would feel them stroke her, perhaps while  they talked about her to someone else.  They were proud - proud to be able to say, 'yes,  she's our full time sex slave and is spending hours and hours in bondage on a daily basis'.    She knew by the way they both looked at her, and by the way they looked at other people  looking at them as a threesome.  Zoe drew attention - Zoe made her Masters look special.    She also enjoyed the strict bondage element of these excursions.  Though often very  restrictive and uncomfortable, Bret's handiwork was also exciting and liberating.  To be tied  up in public was to only partially be existing in society - only partially be in the real world.   To be unable to move your limbs, unable to see properly, unable to walk where you wanted  to walk, and yet all the time have the knowledge that your freedom would be restored and  that while you were voluntarily incapacitated you would be cared for by someone else, was  wonderful - or at least Zoe found it so.    Bret, who truly was an expert, would be able to judge how long Zoe could tolerate certain  positions, for example, or at what point she would be desperate to go to the loo, or  desperate for a drink.  He would feed her sips of orange juice or sometimes beer at  moments when she'd felt sure she'd been abandoned.  He would lead her to the toilets just  in time, go into a cubicle with her (no problem at your average Fetish Club, where all the  toilets quickly became unisex!), adjust whatever straps it was necessary to adjust, position  her over the bowl, and finally pat her dry with tissue.    This service would always make Zoe cry.  She truly understood, now, what it meant to be  made to suffer and yet be cared for at the same time.