Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

A Visit To The Local Dungeon

by Roger Williams

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© Copyright 2003 - Roger Williams - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; fem; toys; public; cons; X

This is a 100% true story; it happened last night.
I had seen an ad in the local free paper for ‘domination in the suburbs’, so one time I called and asked what kind of dungeon they had. “Fully equipped”, they said. I wasn’t interested in paying for a dungeon session, especially since two previous attempts elsewhere were very unsatisfying. But I did want to pay them a visit, and did last night.
My wife was out of town for the weekend. I was going to a play in a theatre, which was halfway from home to the dungeon. Now was the time! Before I left home, I put on the bottom layer - - a pair of very tight female trunks, which are so tight that I had to cut out the crotch to keep from a lot of pain from the pressure on my balls. Over that, a pair of boy leg trunks (female style so they are snug in the crotch, but not uncomfortable). And then my regular clothes. I had also generously lubricated my asshole with Noxema.
After the play, I went to a stall in the men’s room and pulled down my pants. I decided that it was a good idea to take a leak, even though not doing so would add to the pressure, I worried about doing it when I was in the car. Then I took a butt plug out of my pocket and inserted it; this was a five-inch rubber plug and to keep it in place, I had glued a short piece of plastic pipe onto the end. I pulled up the inner panties and then the outer trunks, putting in an athletic cup. I then went out to the car and pulled into a corner of the parking lot for the rest of the preparation.
I removed the rest of my clothes. The first new item was a bodysuit, which used to fit but now is too snug to secure the snaps. However, it did fit over my body and served one purpose - - the cowl at the top could form a hood. Then a pair of white tights; I wanted to use black but couldn’t find them. And white would serve to accentuate the rest of the outfit. After that, a black turtleneck leotard. The clothing was on; now for the accessories.
First, a collar. A tag in front read ‘I’M TAKEN. Property of Mistress Clair.’ I took a padlock and secured both the collar and the leotard’s zipper in back. I knew once I clicked the lock that I was stuck until I got home, because that’s where the key was.
And then a one-inch belt which closes with a hasp. At that point, I stopped and drove to the location. I drove back and forth a couple of times; I didn’t want to use their parking lot because they could see that I could drive and this would defeat the image I was trying to present. I had two choices, parking in a shopping center across the street or in an adult bookstore 100 yards down the street but on the same side. This is a major road so I picked the latter. (Traffic was already sporadic, coming in bunches as traffic lights down the way turned green, and then nothing.)
I put the car keys into my sock; the bulge was not noticeable. Then I got out and walked to the side of their building where I finished the preparation.
A ball gag with a label dangling from the front, ‘SASSY MOUTH - Do Not Open Until Midnight.’ And a pair of leather hasp cuffs; I hid the key for the padlock under my crotch, which was within easy reach and not at all noticeable. I put on the gag and locked the cuffs to the hasp from the belt. And then I went in.
I handed them a note which ‘my mistress’ had written, telling them ‘I’ needed a place to park my slave on Thursday night, and to show me the dungeon so I might report back to her. (once I take the gag out of his sassy mouth.) The three scantily dressed women had a bit of trouble figuring out what the note meant but with my grunts and, at one time, my attempt to write on paper when my wrists were locked together, they understood. They showed me the dungeon, which was small but had a rack, a square board with manacles in each corner, and a pillory. They gave me the price and I left.
I got around the corner and tried to unlock my cuffs but couldn’t seem to manage it. So I walked back to the car, and found there was another car parked next to me, and there was a man in the driver’s seat! I know I gave him quite a show as I fumbled with the car keys and then got inside. I finally managed to get the cuffs lock open, then removed the gag from my aching jaws.
It was a disappointing session, but one would never know until one tried it. None of the three girls seemed to be interested in what I was wearing; none of them ‘played along’ by looking at the tag dangling from my collar nor the tag on the gag. (That one was in large type so maybe they could read it without seeming to.) I had thought of wearing a pair of leg irons but considering where I was parked, I decided not to - - even though I could have released myself from them outside the building. I wonder what this addition might have brought in their attention. I could also have put a lock on the gag but the only other lock I had was a mate to the one with the key at home, and I was 30-40 minutes away from home. (But I was also hoping that maybe they would notice the gag was not locked and remove it so I could communicate . . . but that was asking too much.)
I got home, released the collar, and took a well-deserved piss. Then I thought that since the outfit was so comfortable, I would wear it to bed. The only thing I took off was the bodysuit, which was too snug for sleeping. Yes, I kept the butt plug in, though I did take it out for a refresher on Noxema.
On the way home, I thought of how much fun it would be to return to the mini-dungeon but for an overnight session. I would walk in with wrists handcuffed behind my back and the leg irons on, with the key for both dangling from the front of my collar. They would put me into the dungeon and I would plan to stay past the shift- change - - the place is open 24 hours a day. And when the new shift arrived, the departing one would tell them of the occupant of the dungeon, and they would come in a torment me. Since their slogan is ‘Be our naked playmate, or we’ll be yours’, someone could also remove my trunks and then they could all tease me about my lack of endowment . . . . and chain me up totally naked and exposed to view, and my being unable to do anything about it . . . . .


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