Friday afternoons at work always tick by slowly. Even more slowly when you're counting down the hours to fetish party that's been on your mind all week.

I checked the clock: 3:30pm. The party didn't begin until ten.

My experience thus far with such parties had been uniformly negative: sad, droopy older people and a ratio of men to women that was downright alarming. This was different. I had received a private invite from a group I'd found through a contact on Fetlife: unadvertised, with a strict age limit of 35, and a roughly even split of the sexes.

"Hi, Mike. What are you up to tonight?"

I looked up to see my coworker Alison hovering over my desk. Three weeks ago I had made the embarrassing mistake of taking her home after downing one too many martinis at a work event. I had been dodging her ever since. It's not that she was unattractive: she was just a needy, slightly milquetoast type and I had always valued being single.

"Hi Alison," I responded unenthusiastically "Not much, just dinner with friends."

"Oh okay. Enjoy! Want to maybe grab a quick drink next week? I'd love to catch up."

"Yeah, sounds good," I responded halfheartedly, all but dismissing her. I had other things on my mind.

Later that night, after an interval at home to change, I took the L train deep into Bushwick. Arriving in a former industrial area, I walked a few blocks to an unmarked warehouse. A burly guard stood outside: I gave him the password as instructed and he opened the door.

"Changing room is on the right," He said.

I entered the changing room: gym style lockers lined the walls, and I found an empty one. I opened my gym bag and put its contents onto the bench: metal handcuffs, a ball gag, heels and clover nipple clamps.

I stripped off my clothes, revealing my fishnet clad legs, the bulge of the chastity device I had put on at home visible under the crotch of my black thong. I picked up the bright red ball gag, put it in my mouth, popping it tightly behind my front teeth, and fastened it securely behind my head. Next I buckled on the 3-inch black heels, teetering gently as I stood up. Then I took the clover clamps, and secured them to my nipples: I felt an instantaneous rush of pain and pleasure. On the chain between the two clamps hung a pair of keys and a note:

These keys are for my handcuffs and the lock to my chastity: please do with them as you see fit.

I knew this note was risky: giving license to whomever came across me to have their way with me. But the thrill of that helplessness was just too much to resist.

As I final step I took the handcuff and snapped my right wrist closed. Then reaching behind my back I secured my left hand as well. I was now truly helpless. I walked into the main room of the party, my gait made slightly awkward by the unfamiliar heels.

The picture in the main room was something to behold: if not for the massive ball gag in my mouth my jaw would surely have dropped. I would guess there were about 70 or 80 people: all of them dressed to the nines in latex, leather, and nylon. Several iron crosses lined the wall: women and men in cages were hung from the ceiling.

In one corner, two women were suspended in some of the most beautiful ropework I had ever seen. Whips, chains, beautiful people.

A statuesque dominatrix strutted by me with a gagged woman in tow on a leather leash. My eyes widened at the scene.

I made my way toward one of the empty iron crosses near the wall.

A man in leather chaps made his way towards me. Behind he was a tall, beautiful woman with sensous lips and long, flowing red hair. She was nude save for a metal, florentine-style chastity belt enveloping her sex. The man said something to her that I couldn't quite hear, and the redhead approached me.

"Arms up" She commanded me, and lashed my arms into the cross. She then bent over, her red hair gently tickling my caged cock as went to shackle my feet. She stood back to admire her work. Then her partner spoke:

"This is Naomi: she is my mouth slut. Her only pleasure comes from sucking cock. Too bad you have that silly cage on: otherwise you might have enjoyed this."

The redhead approached me, and pulling down my stockings, took me into her supple mouth and moved it up and down over my caged cock. Then she took her right hand and started expertly massaging my balls. With a hungry sucking motion she moved faster and faster, and my cock felt as if it were going to burst. I noticed a crowd had gathered around me: they were point and laughing at my predicament as I moaned and trashed on the iron cross. Then suddenly through the almost blinding frustration I thought I recognized a familiar face among them.

I froze- this couldn't be! There amidst the dozen or so folks guffawing at my misfortune, clad in a latex corset, high heels and garters, the very picture of a dom, was my co-worker Alison. While the others laughed, she met my eyes with a sadistic smile and piercing gaze. She walked to Naomi's master and whispered in his ear.

"Alright, Naomi, that's quite enough!" The master said.

Naomi stopped, removed her mouth from my cock before giving the cage one last little kiss. She smiled, got up, and rejoined her master, her perfect ass swinging sensually as my cock strained.

"Well, well, well," Purred Alison as she approached me. I pulled at my bonds in vain: please let me be anywhere but here! She continued, "So this is your dinner party, eh? What's the note hanging from your nipple clamps? Do with these keys as I see fit? Oh I think I can oblige you."

She took the keys from the chain and pocketed them in her ample cleavage. "I have an idea for teaching a naughty boy like you a lesson."

Alison lead me to a small box in the corner of the room. She unlatched the near side of the box and I looked in: inside was a set of shackles, one at the far end for hands, one at the near end for feet. On the far end above the hand shackles was a round pillory-like metal yoke for one's head, and in front of that a hole about 3 inches in diameter.

"Let's see if you can figure out what that hole is for," snarled Alison. My eyes widened in terror.

With that she shoved me down onto my hands and knees and pushed me into the box. My hands were uncuffed and secured into the front shackles, my neck secured in the round shackle above those, placing my mouth at the box's hole, and my ankles were locked in as well. Alison removed my ball gag.

"Please, Alison-" I started.

"Shut up or I will leave you here for the night. Now open your mouth wide."

I complied, and Alison quickly inserted a large ring gag. I had never worn one before: it keep my mouth wide open and I quickly started to drool. And with that, the door was slammed and bolted behind me. A moment later, however, it reopened.

"I almost forgot something," I hear Alison say, "how foolish of me!"

And with that I felt a cold sensation as what must have been a monsterous buttplug was inserted into me. I felt as if I was going to break in half. The door was closed behind me again. I sat there in darkness and panic, the ring gag stuffed into my mouth, and the unfamiliar sensation of the buttplug rubbing my sensitive insides. I feel the weight of my chastity cage swinging between my legs.

Shortly thereafter, the first of several cocks in succession was shoved through the hole into my all-too-available mouth.

By the time Alison unbolted the box it had felt like eternity, thought it had probably been about an hour or so. Cum was dripping out of my ring gag, over my chin, and onto the floor of the box. Alison smiled evilly, paused a moment, and then began to undo my restraints. When I stood up, I removed the gag and she handed me a towel to wipe off my face.

"Maybe that will teach you a lesson about how to treat women?"

I was almost took shocked and exhausted to respond. "Yes."

"Yes what?"

"Yes, mistress."

"Much better. Now be honest with me: do you have another copy of the keys to your chastity device?"

"No," I wasn't lying: giving away the only copy had given me another helpless thrill.

"Excellent. I expect to see you still wearing it in the office when I see you Monday morning. Now get out of here," She then added, "And oh- if you think about removing it with a bolt cutter or what have you, I took the liberty of snapping a few pictures of you wearing this ensemble, so if you disobey the office is going to be getting some rather interesting emails."

My heart sank. I stood for a moment dumbfounded, and then made by way back to the changing room.

Monday, 9:15am

I sat at my desk, my eyes bleary from the fitful sleep I'd gotten the past few nights: I had never tried sleeping while wearing a penis prison. I tried to focus on getting through my accumulated emails, but the distraction of the device was constant.

"Hi there, Mike," It was Alison, with a broad smile on her face. "How's it hanging? I take it you had fun this weekend?"

Quickly glancing back to make sure no one was in earshot "Alison, please, how long do I have to wear this thing?"

"Well let me see... You took me home 3 weeks ago and never called. 3 weeks sounds like a nice start." Then she reached down and quickly grabbed my crotch. "Oh good, you still have it on. I will be spot checking you periodically over the next few weeks. If I find you're not wearing it, well, I've got those pictures..."

With that she walked away from my desk, but then, somewhat theatrically, dropped the pen she was holding.

"Oh silly me: how clumsy!"

She then bent over right in front of me, and I could see the tops of her thighs and just the glimpse of her thong below her skirt line. She stood back up, turned to me, and winked.

This was going to be a long three weeks.