The Bondage Convention Read online

  Bondage on Display

  Volume 1:

  The Bondage Convention

  © 2020, Edward Laste

  All Rights Reserved

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  All characters depicted in sexual acts in this work of fiction are 18 years of age or older.

  A Daring Weekend

  I didn’t consider myself overly shy or innocent, but I still couldn’t stop from blushing as I stepped up to the registration podium to get my badge for the convention. My discomfort was mainly due to the sign-in lady who was wearing a bubblegum pink latex catsuit that wouldn’t have left anything to the imagination if not for the shiny steel chastity belt covering her privates.

  Her outfit was accented by a tall black collar, matching cuffs on her wrists, and ballet boots with such incredibly high heels I couldn’t imagine how she managed to wear them all day long. My feet ached just looking at them, and walking anywhere would be damn near impossible, even without the heavy shackles linking her ankles together.

  It was the kind of thing I expected to see at a convention devoted to all things BDSM, but not out in the hotel lobby! Even for a city like Vegas it was pushing the limits, but the one saving grace was that with a lady like this to ogle, nobody would be looking at me for the minute or two it would take to get my access badge.

  Or at least it wouldn’t have if I hadn’t forgotten to reclaim my driver’s license when I hurried away with my badge and handbook. She shouted my name to get my attention, and with everyone staring she shuffled towards me with her ankle chain clinking preternaturally loud. Talk about embarrassing!

  It was almost enough to make me turn around and go home, but I knew I’d be fine once I got into the display hall where I’d be surrounded by likeminded perverts and fetishists. Behind those doors I’d be just one among many, and nothing I could say, do, or buy would even raise an eyebrow. I could even wear a mask or hood if I wanted to remain truly anonymous, and after my sign-in debacle, buying a full-face hood was going to be first on my agenda.

  I’d wanted to get a good latex hood anyway, since the one that came with my catsuit fit about as well as a twelve inch condom on a two inch cock. It totally looked like shit, and if I moved around too much it could shift so the nose holes no longer lined up with my nostrils, which scared the hell out of me.

  That happened once during a self-bondage session and freaked me out so badly I forewent my favorite form of relaxation for months afterwards. In addition to a hood that fit properly, I wanted to find other things to make my ‘hobby’ safer yet more intense, and hoped my credit card could handle the impulse buys I was sure to indulge in. Good quality bondage gear could be exceedingly expensive, and I’d learned the hard way how bad the cheap shit could be.

  All this ran through my mind as I rode the elevator up to the floor I was staying on, distracting me from the looks of those who’d witnessed the unfortunate scene in the lobby. I swear I could actually feel them staring at my ass all the way up to my stop on the fourteenth floor. I was actually trembling by the time I was able to escape.

  It wasn’t a moment too soon either because I swear I could smell the result of my own arousal wafting up from between my legs. As much as I hated to admit it, humiliation like this made me wetter than a leaky faucet, and denying my urges only seemed to make me hornier. I had less self-control than a nympho in a dildo factory, but I couldn’t change how my brain was wired.

  Thankfully my room was second to the left from the elevator, because I needed to get out of public sight before I really embarrassed myself. I found it ironic how much of a contradiction I was to myself, hating public embarrassment so much, yet secretly getting off from it. I’d brought none of my toys with me from home, but my fingers were more than sufficient to scratch the itch enough so I could take a shower, order room service, and plan my itinerary with a calm, albeit endorphin filled mind.

  The show had started a few hours ago, but it was only Friday, and it ran until late Sunday night, so I had plenty of time to wander the aisles. Besides… it shouldn’t be as crowded at night, giving me less of a chance to embarrass myself.

  Buying a new buzzing bedroom buddy was going to be hard enough already, since most salesmen were males who seemed to think something the size of a fire hydrant did the job better than a normal sized device. A saleswoman could be almost as bad, since I had yet to meet one who could credibly extoll the virtues of the toy she’d been supposedly intimate with, so I was screwed either way. Or to be more precise, I wasn’t in the way I really wanted to be.

  Don’t get me wrong. I loved the feel of a hot, hard cock as much as anyone, but it was difficult to find one attached to someone I could trust enough to make me wonderfully helpless before, during, and after the act. The last boyfriend I’d enjoyed to that extent had been two years ago, and I hadn’t realized how good I’d had it until I’d lost it. My last attempt at submitting to a potential Master was such an unmitigated disaster I’d almost sworn off sex completely, and my body had taken months to recover from his cruelty.

  Just the thought of him dampened my ardor, but it recovered quickly once I flipped through the handbook listing the displayers and their activities. In addition to all the booths displaying their kinky wares, there were all sorts of live shows and demonstrations, and some of them allowed audience participation!

  I wasn’t much interested in getting my ass paddled, and even wearing a mask I personally wouldn’t have the guts to try riding a sybian in public, but the rigging demonstrations sounded marvelous. Getting to experience a tight hogtie or rope suspension from a professional rigger would be absolutely amazing. As the icing on the cake, participation would earn me tokens that could be used towards any purchases I might make at the show!

  To hell with planning; I could simply wander up and down the aisles from one side of the hall to the other, and eventually I’d see everything. I liked my new plan so much I skipped the room service, took an extra quick shower, and didn’t even diddle myself! That was the toughest decision, but I figured waiting until after I got back would make it feel even sweeter. It was show time.

  Show Time

  It seemed to be a well-organized event, with change rooms and a coat check area for those that wanted to store their street clothes and wear something kinkier, making me wish I’d brought my catsuit down with me. Purchases could also be sent straight here so the attendees wouldn’t have to carry stuff around all day, which I thought was a nice touch.

  An even cooler option was the ability to get a pack mule ponygirl who’d follow you around all day with your stuff! It was way too expensive for my meager budget even if any had been left to rent at this time of night, but it was cool nonetheless.

  I saw one right off the bat when I entered the main hall, wearing a bit gag and fancy head harness with a tall red plume at the top. A similar harness covered her torso, although ‘covered’ was a bad description, since it left all her breasts free to bounce around with each step she took on those awkward looking pony boots. The small bells clamped to her nipples jingled in a musical counterpoint to the clop of her hooves, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have a job like that.

  Looking around further, I saw that several people had brought their own submissives to serve them. A few were simply being led along by a leash attached to their collars, but one domineering-looking couple took it seve
ral steps beyond with their two slaves.

  The girl wore an impossibly huge ball gag, neck stretching posture collar, super tight armbinder, and her leash was attached to the chain connecting the two clover clamps on her nipples. The guy wore similar bondage gear, with the addition of a cage around his cock, and a rope leash tied tight around his whole package. If these were just attendees like me, I couldn’t wait to see the real shows!

  First things first: three stalls down was a booth selling latex gear, and while I wasn’t too worried anymore about people in here seeing my face, I still needed to buy a good hood. From ten feet away I could smell the rubber, and inside the booth all that latex was almost overpowering and intoxicating. In a weird sort of Pavlovian response, I became instantly aroused.

  Hoods they had in plenty, starting as thin as a condom and running the gambit all the way up to discipline hoods better than a quarter inch thick! It was too extreme for my tastes, so I concentrated on the ones closer to what I considered normal, around a half millimeter thick. That was a tiny bit thicker than my catsuit so it would feel nice and restrictive, yet still thin enough to stretch and conform.

  After much deliberation, I chose a deluxe model that had reinforcements around the eye, nose, and mouth openings, hard inserts for the nose to keep the nostrils from collapsing, and a zipper in back so I could get it on easier. It also came with a matching blindfold, mouth panel, and a heavier panel with built-in ball gag, but it was damn expensive.

  It actually cost more than my full catsuit did, but they had one in my size I could try on, and I was sold once I felt how perfectly it fit. Most people might’ve found it to be a size too small, but I really loved the compression, and there was no way this one would slide around if I struggled too hard while having fun.

  Since I planned to keep wearing it, the salesman said I could exchange it later if I decided it was too tight for long term comfort, but I doubted I was coming back unless it was to buy something else. He also gave me a free collar imprinted with the convention logo and website for making a purchase over two hundred dollars, and while it wasn’t anything special, free was free.

  I hung the hood accessories over my belt but buckled the collar around my neck before moving on. Maybe later I’d try the ball gag on for size, but I still had at least one purchase I needed to make before I could silence myself with it.

  I could see some activity on the stage at the end of the row so I hurried over to see what kind of show was starting. There was a Twitter feed I could follow to get all the show information for the weekend, but I had yet to join it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to wade through the barrage of tweets for the next two days, but on the other hand, there were stages all around the perimeter of the hall and I’d hate to miss a good show. I’d worry about it later.

  By some freak chance this was where the rigging demos I wanted to see were taking place, and they were still looking for volunteers! Acting on impulse, I raised my hand to volunteer without even knowing what position they were going to demo, and the thrill of the unknown made me feel extra tingly.

  I was fractionally more excited than scared until the girl next to me started to undress, and then the ratio inverted. I wondered if I was expected to bare it all as well, but as if reading my mind the rigger about to tie me up jovially said it was optional. I flashed him a weak smile of gratitude for his honesty, since if he’d told me I had to strip I would’ve believed him… and probably obeyed!

  I was second in line out of four volunteers, and one by one we had our hands tied behind our backs while a camera took a close-up to display the rope work on the big screen at the back of the stage. With my back to the crowd it let me see exactly what he was doing, and I couldn’t believe how incredibly hot it was! It was only a few wraps of white cotton rope, a cinch, and a double knot, but it left me feeling weak in the knees.

  Next was an upper arm bind, and while he didn’t pull my elbows completely together, it was tighter than any I’d experienced before. There wasn’t as much shoulder stain as I thought there’d be, but where it was noticeable was the front of my shirt. If I’d worn something even slightly tighter it might’ve burst at the seams, and as it was my rock-hard nipples were doing their best to poke their way through.

  Wanting to watch the next two girls get tied made me miss what was done to the one prior, until it was actually happening to me. I felt something cold and metallic slide between my bound wrists, and a moment later they were pulled high up above me, forcing me to bend over to accommodate the unexpected strappado.

  I gasped as the shoulder strain I expected earlier made itself felt, although it still wasn’t as bad as I’d imagined from watching videos on the internet. The gasp I’d let out was more from surprise than anything else, but the rigger stopped to make sure I was okay.

  His instant concern made me feel a whole lot better about putting myself in his hands, but once I told him I had no problem at all with the position, his only response was a lopsided smile. That, and an extra pull on the rope to tighten the strappado an extra few inches.

  He didn’t take it as far as he could’ve, but the reason for that quickly became apparent. I’d been turned towards the side facing the first girl, so there was no way I could miss the next step; a three foot long spreader bar between the ankles. Spreading my legs that far apart when it was my turn was pretty damn embarrassing since his face was only inches away from my damp crotch and feeling so vulnerable wasn’t helping matters in the least. As a side note, now I was starting to feel the shoulder strain.

  “I see you brought a few extras with you,” he whispered into my ear. “Do you want to be gagged to complete the experience?”

  Without conscious input from my brain I found myself nodding my head, and then opening wide to allow him to pop the fat ball behind my teeth. The panel had two straps to hold it in place, and he tightened both a little more than I would have if I was gagging myself, but not so much I couldn’t take it.

  It was probably due to all the endorphins and adrenaline coursing through my veins, but the more helpless he made me, the more turned on I became. I wasn’t sure how much longer this demo lasted, but the moment he set me free I was heading straight for the aisles with the vibrators, and then taking a quick trip up to my room.

  I hadn’t realized he’d also taken the blindfold off my belt until the world went dark, but by then it was too late; with how muffled this new gag made my squawk of indignation, I knew speaking the words asking him to remove it was utterly impossible. Panic made me freeze like a deer caught in the headlights, and then the comparison made me snort; if the deer was blindfolded, he wouldn’t have been caught in the light!

  I sucked when it came to analogies. It was an absurd thought to have considering the seriousness of my current predicament, but it calmed me down enough so I could concentrate on the here and now. I heard the rigger speaking in front of me, talking about the more technical side of things, and what to watch for.

  For example, the elbow rope was never to be put higher on the arm where the nerves and veins were closer to the surface, or you could accidentally hurt the subject. He then joked how when he hurt a sub, it was never by accident. At least I thought it was a joke until I heard him mentioning how nice nipple clamps tied off to the spreader bar looked. From what I could hear I was sure the naked girl now sported those clamps and wondered if I was next.

  “Even if you can’t see skin, you can tell by feel if the subject’s arms and shoulders are under too much strain,” he said, laying a hand on my shoulder. “The flesh between the rotator cup and collarbone should be taut, but so much that you can’t grab a good pinch of meat. Check the deltoid and triceps for similar tautness, and also that both sides feel even.

  “Even with the most prominent target available, I don’t recommend using nipple clamps through a shirt since they never grip the same. Either remove the shirt or find another way to secure the subject.”

  I felt fingers at my throat, followed by pressure on the collar pulling
my neck down. I didn’t need eyes to know he’d tied my collar to the spreader bar, and it tightened my position considerably, but it was still a far better alternative than having my nipples clamped.

  I was a little jealous of the next girl, since she had her position tightened up via a crotch rope with some knots tied in a strategic place. Any movement she made would now cause a knot to rub over her clit, and I knew from experience it was entirely possible to reach orgasm that way.

  The last girl had her hair tied off in a ponytail, with a rope pulling it back. He recommended using a ring gag in conjunction with the hair tie, since it put her mouth at a most convenient height and angle. For someone with a cock, that is.

  That was the end of the demo, but he gave us all ten minutes to escape with the promise of five thousand show credits to any girl who could get free. It was a sucker bet, but if the others were like me, it was ten minutes for us to all enjoy some real, professional bondage.

  “Sorry about the blindfold, but it was just too perfect,” he said from close range. “I see you have your phone clipped to your belt. I was wondering if you wanted some pictures or a video so you can see how incredibly sexy you look right now.”

  Once again, I nodded yes without even thinking about it, and felt him take it and unlock it with my finger. It sounded like he took pictures from all sides and angles, and I did my best to struggle to make it look better for the video. I’d never admit it to him, but I was looking forward to playing this video over and over when I was up in my room testing out my next purchase.

  “Are you a professional bondage model?” he asked when he was done and began releasing me. “If not, you should consider it. You’re a natural, and I’d love to tie you up again during my next show if you’re interested. It’s a frog tie suspension.”

  Interested? Hell yeah! I nodded yes again, and he stopped untying me for a minute.