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<pre>
"Party"
by SD

You are required to strip, blindfolded, and forced into your cage, 
which is then locked shut.  After some time, the cage is carried 
outside and placed on the car and secured in the cargo carrier.
A tarp is then secured atop the cage so the cargo is concealed
from passing vehicles, and the car drives off.  After a long
drive, the car pulls off the road and stop, and the tarp is removed,
and then, to your horror, the car begins to drive again, with
its cargo now apparent to any onlookers.  As it drives slowly
along, you hear voices, and the car slows to a stop as I exchange
greeting and banter with a number of men and women, who of course
comment upon my cargo and some of whom ask to try it out, which
I assent to, and you feel riding crops striking your bare, exposed
buttocks, then fingers stroking the path of the strike.  After
some more banter, including comments about see more of you tonight, 
the group rides off (it was, off course, purely accidental that
our paths instersected, if something so carefully scheduled can
be accidental &lt;g&gt;), and we continue on to the house, which I park
the car in front of and go inside.  I don't come out for a very
long time, leaving you naked in your cage atop the car, as various
other people drive up and enter the house, or leave it, a steady
flow of talkative men and women passing by you, some commenting
upon you, most not, and occasionally a hand reaching up to pat
or pinch your ass, sometimes with a crude comment about tonight's
entertainment, sometimes with a friendly voice telling you things
like "It will be OK, dear, don't be afraid - well, not *too* afraid !"

None of which makes you feel much better (you might feel better
if you knew I was watching from just inside the house the whole
time).

Eventually you are brought inside, and the cage laid in a quiet
room for a while.  Then it's opened, and you are brought out, 
too stiff to offer any resistance as you are bound, then bathed,
then tied down to a board and given several warm enemas.  Then
you are untied, and dressed in very high heels and hose and
some sheer lingerie that accents rather than conceals, and
your hands are tied behind you before you are laid on your stomach 
on a board and ropes tied around your arms and abdomen holding you 
to the board, then your and your ankles bound together and
your feet raised and another rope paced around them, the other
end of which is used to cinch your elbows and then holds you in
a sort of hogtie, your highly polished patent leather high heels
raised above your ass and reflecting it nicely.  Then an apple shaped 
gag is thrust in you mouth and secured in place before the blindfold 
is removed and your face is washed and your eyes made-up and your
hair combed and some flowers places on and around you before you 
are carried down a long hall leading into a dining room with a very 
long table on which there are settings for many people, and you are 
placed on the table as one of the centerpieces, and shortly thereafter
the guests, many formally dressed men and women accompanied by a
certain number of men and women in fetishwear (most of whom kneel
or sit by the feet of the others) and a multicourse dinner is served,
with much conversation, little of it about (and none of it directed to)
the centerpieces, though there are some compliments for how well-set is 
the table, and some comments about the fun and games to come after
dinner, comments that leave you with no doubt that the use of the
centerpieces will be more than decorative, and some comments which
scare you enough to cause you to involuntarily test your bonds,
though you know it to be futile, that you could never get free, 
a squirmimg of your hands and feet that bring chuckles from the
people near you who obviously enjoy both your fear and your
helplessness.


At last dinner ends, and all the guests retire to a drawing
room for drinks of their choice.  The centerpieces are carried
into the room as well and placed on display pedestals while
various appraising comments are made.  All the comments are
favorable, as all the displays where carefully prepared (and
as all the guests are courteous and caring people who would
not strike such a blow to a vulnerable submissive, even if they
didn't know or care what wrath they would face from the host
and the rest of the guests were they to do so).

Now it's time for the entertainment to begin.  Tonight is a
musicale, and you'll be the first soloist, with accompaniment
on the keyboards.

By this time your tight bondage has become extremely painful,
and you are most relieved when the attendents begin to remove
it.  Until you discover how much the removal of tight bondage
hurts.  After feeling has fully been restored, it's time to
start.


You're stripped naked and placed in a standing spreadeagle
before the seats where the audience will be seated (the guests 
are still socializing).  The cuffs placed around your wrists 
and ankles are fastened to chains that keep you in position, 
but which have a lot of slack.  A harness is placed around
your chest and shoulders and secured above you ("for if
- or rather when - you pass out", one of the attendents
whispers to you).  A new pair of high heels are brought,
and shown to you.  The insides are full of needles.  Not
so sharp as to break the skin, but sure to be very painful.
The shoes are then placed on your feet, and locked in place,
and each foot pressed down hard on a plate in the floor
while a wire is attached to a spot on the inside of each heel.

When they release your ankles, the pain in your feet is enough 
to cause you to lift one foot as far as the chain allows, then 
the other, then to lift both and hang by your wrists (or more
accurately by your chains, which you grasp with your hands).
While you are doing this, the attendents note some reactions
on their equipment (and some of the guests take note of your 
amusing reactions).

Now electrodes are placed on various spots, your hands,
the insteps of your feet, your thighs, labia, clit,
each ass check, on either flank, and on your nipples.
Each is preceded by a conductive ointment to minimize
burns, and then taped firmly in place.  Before the
electrodes are place on your nipples, a female attendent
shows you how the clamps have hard rubber on the back
and the one side, and how the silver tips within are
pressing in on either side of your nipples.  "The
current is going to shoot across your nipples, not
into your breasts or through your chest.  It's going
to hurt terribly, but it won't kill you.  I've been
where you're standing now, and you aren't going to
die.  There may be times when you'll wish you could,
but you won't.  If anyone has a heart attack from
this performance, it will be some of the older male 
guests watching you, not you.  You'll be fine, and
you'll be lovely".

You would thank her, but the applegag is still in
your mouth, until another removes it, sticks
a pair of pliers in your mouth, and makes you 
stick your tongue out while another screws two
pieces of wood tight down upon it, so you can't
withdraw it, and then clamps an electrode onto it
(this wire leads to a dead connection so no 
electricty will hit your tongue, but you don't
know this).

Finally a belt is placed around your waist, and 
from it another belt dangles; in this belt are placed
well lubricated (and well covered in conductive cream)
plugs, which are inserted in your anus and vagina
before the belt is cinched and buckled to hold them 
in place.


Now all the attendents step away from you, and at
the flick of a switch your feet are in agony and
you start kicking madly and twisting in your chains,
only briefing suppressing the scream that rises
in your throat.  "You have to put your feet down,
dear.  The pins in the shoes hurt like hell, but
unless both feet are on these plates the pins shoot
electricity into you and that hurts even more.
Put your feet down, I know it's hard but you've got
to put them down".  And when, with a great effort,
you force yourself to put your feet down, the pain
subsides, though the pins still hurt terribly and
you wonder how longer you can stand to stand like
this.

A point that you continue to ponder, with increasing
urgency, as you stand and stand and stand and the
guests continue to casually chat, and you wonder 
if the next phase will ever begin (and looking at
some of the other centerpieces still tied in place,
like the man trying so hard to hold his head up
because each time it dips the wire from his headharness
(with the shoegag in his mouth) pulls ever tighter
the vise so cruelly compressing his testicles (made
all the worse by the ratchet design that only allows 
the vise to tighten, not loosen (though from time to
time his owner reverses it a notch or two, usually after
he's tightened it three or four notches)) but it's been 
so long and he's so tired he can barely hold his head up
(which will never be a cliche for him again) - and he's 
scheduled for last, as his owner has happily whispered 
in his ear - and he's not sure how he can possibly get 
through this evening).

Finally, they begin to drift to their seats, and
after along while the audience is assembled,
and one of the guests takes her place at the
keyboard, and starts to touch the keys, beginning
with those keys so familiar to fans of ultraviolence,
the ones from Beethoven's fifth.

And which each keystroke you jerk as the current hits
you, and you forgetfully lift a foot causing it to catch
fire again until you can plant it firmly.  An effort
made harder because each time you try, the woman at
the keyboard touches the key which makes your
thigh scream and spasm, to the laughter of the
audience.

When you settle down, she fiddles with some knobs,
then starts to play a slow tune, one that you don't 
know.  It's not a particularly fine piece of music 
(though at the moment your musical appreciation may 
not be at its most acute) despite being commissioned 
for a goodly price.  But the way you're dancing in 
your chains, as one part and then another receives 
a shock (your thighs aren't screaming as much
now, the juice seems to have been reduced, but it
still hurts a lot, and the constant shocks are
quickly reducing you to tears and shrieks that
find their way past your clamped tongue, leading
to applause for your vocal performance), no one
will be asking for a refund.

Finally, eternity ends, and as your brain begins to
realize that you're not being shocked anymore, you
dimly perceive the accompanist standing and bowing
as the audience wildly applauds your performance,
and calls out "Bravo... Bravo...Encore...Encore".
And she sits down, and touches two keys, zapping each
nipple to watch you jump and see that you're awake,
and says, "Masters and Mistresses, and adored slaves
and honored submissives, for her encore, this lovely
slave will be doing the Minute Waltz", and she turns
a knob and begins to play.

And you begin madly gyrating and shrieking, but for less
than a minute; well, your shrieks stop as you hang
unconscious in the shoulder harness, your arms raised
but not supporting your body weight.  Your body continues
to twitch till the number is done, and the audience
applauds.



You awaken much later, lightly restrained, padded
wrist cuffs locked together in front of you, wrapped
naked in a comfortable bearskin and propped up amidst
scores of pillows, and as it's observed that you are
awake, guests stop by to congratulate and compliment
you while offering you water or juice and asking you
if you need anything else.  After letting you bask
in the well-earned adulation for a while, I pick
up the bearskin with you within it, and carry you
to a room where we'll spend the night while I cuddle
and comfort you.


