Maddie learns about an exclusive masquerade party where it is rumored that all the elite attendees get to indulge in hidden, private bondage games. But Maddie doesn’t have an invitation. So, she devises a plan to sneak in and see some bondage games in real life…

WARNING! This story contains some non-consensual themes, but nothing crazy explicit. Read on at your own discretion…

I walked up to the main entrance of the mansion, my tall dress heels clicking against the pavement of the driveway. The mansion was huge, every window was lit up and guests could be seen chatting in most of them, holding glasses of champagne or small plates of appetizers. It was an incredibly high-end party, the hosts were billionaires for some company that I didn’t know the name of. Every person on the invite list was just as prestigious.

I wore a purple sleeveless ball gown, which ended just above my bust and just above my ankles. The dress had a split nearly to my waist so that as I walked, one of my legs would push through the fabric into view. My brown hair was curled and pushed up with a purple headband, falling down happily around my neck. I had painted my nails purple to match the dress and I wore silver earrings and a silver necklace. I also wore a valkyrie mask, since it was a masquerade party. I had pulled out all the stops for this party. I had to make it through the main door.

I wasn’t a lawyer or a businessman or anyone important, I actually worked at Walmart. My dress and shoes were from my senior prom and the necklace and earrings were ‘borrowed’ from the back storeroom where I worked. I had to get in. I had learned from some long-distance friends that this wasn’t an ordinary party. Apparently, everyone on the invite list was a secret kink. This wasn’t a normal masquerade party, but there were secret rooms where the guests could indulge in their secret fantasies. Normally, people of that stature can’t let their kinks influence their real life in the slightest, so they suppress their urges. At this party, rumor said that everything was off. All the stops were pulled.

I walked up the main door, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I made sure the neckline of my dress was nice and low, showing off my chest. I certainly had the body to be someone that would be invited to the party. I had been on the cheer team in high school and I knew that I could make heads turn if I wanted. And I had tried my hardest to do just that tonight.

I walked up to the man standing at the front door, expecting to be requested to present my fake invitation to him.

“Hello” I said as eloquently as I could.

“Good evening ma’am” the guard responded. “Have a nice night!” he said with a smile. He didn’t give me a second look.

“I-, oh, thank you!” I responded. I thought I would have to present my fake invitation to him but he had just let me pass through. I guess my dress and looks were enough to get me in without a question.

I walked into the mansion, striding into the main entrance. I looked around in awe at the size of the building, the main entrance alone was the size of my entire apartment. I continued into the building, where some of the staff at the party directed me towards a large ballroom. Glancing past them down a hall, I saw that there were several doors with small signs pinned to the door. Each sign read ‘reserved’ in a fancy red and gold text, and I smiled. ‘That must be where they ‘indulge themselves’ ’, I thought to myself.

Entering the ballroom, I was taken away at the size and beauty of everything. The owner of the mansion was from ‘old’ money, so they had a lot of traditional, gaudy things throughout the room. Large crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, there was oak trim on all the walls, the curtains were made of satin and there was a 5-man orchestra playing a classical piece in one corner. The room was filled with the “ha ha ha”s that were a custom to the upper class, all filled with respect and judgment and lacking humor. I immediately felt out-of-place and wanted to leave, but I took a deep breath and told myself to suck it up for one night. All I needed was the opportunity to get into one of those ‘reserved’ rooms with the fancy little signs on it and I would be golden.

I wandered around for a little, avoiding interacting with anyone. I didn’t trust myself to be able to recreate the fake, expensive laughs or the practiced small-talk of everyone else in the room. If I was even just a little off, people might get suspicious. I couldn’t let my one chance be ruined by something so small as a blunder in my speech.

I made it around to a buffet table, which was piled high with cheeses, tiny sandwiches, hors-devours and other little snacky stuff. I got myself a small plate and nibbled delicately on some cheese. It was really quite good. I started to enjoy myself a little more, especially after a waiter in a tuxedo and bow-tie came around and handed me a glass of champagne.

I eventually settled on one side of the ballroom, casually standing against a wall. I sipped my champagne as I watched the guests talk and interact with each other for the better part of an hour, hoping to catch something that might imply some bondage-themed shenanigans going on. After a while, I began to notice a pattern. A waiter or waitress would walk through the crowd, homing in on one specific guest. They would then whisper something in their ear, the guest would nod and thank them, then excuse themself to leave the ballroom. About thirty minutes later, they would return to the ballroom.

“Do I need a waiter to come ask for me?” I thought to myself. I knew they wouldn’t I wouldn’t be on any list anywhere. But then I thought to myself, “Do I need to be notified by a waiter? What if I just follow another guest? They should just assume that I’m the correct person to let in, right?” A plan formulated in my mind. The next guest that I noticed be addressed, I would follow into one of the reserved rooms.

After a minute or two, a waiter emerged from the main entrance, walking through the crowd. I kept my eye locked on him until he eventually stopped at a group of three women talking. He addressed a young lady in a blue dress. She was really quite gorgeous, her pure-blonde hair was done up in a bun on top of her head with some sparkle twisting through it. She had silver earrings on and she wore a mask that resembled a white fox. The man whispered something to her, and she smiled and thanked him. She excused herself from the group of women and began walking towards the exit of the ballroom.

I excitedly composed myself and followed her, speeding up to match her pace. I weaved through the crowd as cleanly as I could, making sure I never lost sight of her.

Out in the main hall, a large guard, dressed like the waiters, had waved her through to go into the hallway beyond the ballroom. Putting on my best face, I confidently walked towards him, hoping that my plan would work.

“Do you know where you are going?” he asked me politely as I approached him.

“Yes, I do! Thank you!” I responded, just as politely. The man stepped aside and let me pass through without another word.

‘Oh my goodness’, I thought to myself. ‘If only appearance worked this well in the real world!’

I walked down the hall, following where I had seen the lady in the blue dress go. She had walked around a corner, so I followed her past that. As I rounded it, I saw her enter a small ‘reserved’ room on the left side. I decided that I would follow her and, if the rooms were for individuals, I would feign a mistake that I had made in going into the wrong room. I strode forward, my tall stilettos sinking into the red velvet carpet.

Opening the door slowly, I saw a group of roughly 10 people, all sitting around a massive table. There was a large gap on one edge, where two or three seats were missing. When I entered, they all looked over, seeing who had just entered. The woman with the blue dress was just sitting down at one end, crossing her legs delicately.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is this the wrong room?” I asked cautiously, with as rich a voice as I could.

A man, dressed in a brown suit and bowtie, said happily from the other side of the table, “There’s still one seat left, so I think you’re in the right spot!” He wore a brown rabbit mask over his face.

“Oh, wonderful!” I said, closing the door behind me. I sat down in the last open seat, directly next to the woman in the blue dress. I couldn’t help but look over at her now that I was up close: she was truly a stunning girl. Her pale skin was blemishless, her face was perfectly shaped and, now that I was closer, she wore no makeup. She was naturally this pretty. I was in awe that someone could be that beautiful without any extra work.

We all sat quietly at the table for a minute. Then another minute ticked by. The man with the bunny mask lit a cigar and began puffing at it, the smoke rising up and being sucked away by some vent hidden in the ceiling.

I felt my foot begin to tap in anticipation and stopped myself. Everyone else seemed perfectly at ease, so I tried to imitate their calmness. I had a hard time. My heart was thumping through my chest: I had to be so close to my goal, I just had to wait a moment longer...

A sudden noise from one end of the room startled me, making me jump in my seat. Luckily, the woman next to me also jumped, so I wasn’t the only one caught off guard. I turned my head to look and saw a woman entering the room from a hidden door. She was dressed in only lingerie, and she carried with her a large duffel bag over her shoulder. Her bare feet squished silently into the carpet, so silently that the door slamming shut behind her made me jump again.

She approached the empty space on the table and, being watched by everyone in the room, dumbed the bag on the table. She unzipped it and spilled the contents out with practiced ease, and seeing what was inside, my breath caught in my throat.

It was a bondage lover’s dream. There were coils of rope, belts, several different types of tape, gags, zip ties, cuffs, collars, shackles, chains, latex straps, leather harnesses and everything in between. I saw at least 10 different types of gags, from a simple ball-gag to a complete harness, panel, ball, blindfold and hood combination. There were also toys of all sorts, from vibrators to shock pads to choke collars to plugs and clamps and feathers candles and everything else. I almost let a gasp of excitement slip out before I regained my composure. Everyone around the table still seemed relaxed, but I could see an excited glint in everyone’s eye.

The woman (who I would soon find out was the model) then silently climbed onto the table, her bare skin sliding against the hard wood of the surface. She sat quietly in the center, cross-legged, then stopped moving, waiting for something. Everyone stared at her, waiting for something to happen.

The man in the brown suit stood up after a moment. He cleared his throat and announced, “Well, I do believe that it’s time for you to have your fun”.

At that, everyone at the table stood up, pushing their chairs back. I followed suit, a moment behind everyone else. They all started talking happily with each other in anticipation:

“I was hoping we could do a tape tie–”

“Let’s do a rope tie! Nice, simple hogtie with–”

“A crotchrope would be fun to watch–”

“I want to use this gag–”

Everyone seemed to be rushing to tie the model up. Some people grabbed rope, others grabbed tape, others went for the gags, it was all very hectic. I tentatively picked up a length of rope that was near me to try to stay included, until the man in the brown suit shouted, “Decide before you tie!”

All the grown adults around me stopped, listening like a schoolchild would listen to their teacher when being admonished on something. I grinned, even these powerful individuals were falling back into their childish tendencies and longings.

Everyone halted their progress and discussed it for a few minutes. I sat quietly, listening in on the bickering and arguing they were doing, humored at the likeness between the powerful people in the room and a group of squabbling children. They eventually decided to give the model a rope hogtie and a leather panel gag with a blindfold.

Once deciding, they all descended on the poor damsel. I watched in shock at the speed that the group of people worked. In less than a minute, she went from a cute, little, innocent girl to a bound and gagged mass of rope and leather. She had rope frapped around her white ankles, her knees and her thighs, with many more in between. Her feet were tied together around her soles and there was rope connecting her soles and ankles up to her chest. Her arms were tied in a reverse-prayer position, with her hands wrapped in duct tape. Her chest and breasts were wrapped in more rope, making a beautiful box-tie around her body. A full harness looped down under her crotch and between her legs, with a large knot tied right over her sex. I could already see that the model was aroused.

Her gag was another thing entirely. The patrons had first shoved a cloth in her mouth, then wrapped her head in tape. On top of that, they had applied a leather panel gag that further tightened against her mouth, keeping the cloth shoved in deeply. The leather straps ran over her head and around her neck, all secured with little padlocks. A leather blindfold was built into the gag, which was strapped down over her eyes and face. The model was completely restrained, gagged, blinded, and now at the mercy of a dozen men and women who hadn’t had their kink satisfied for at least a year.

Once she was completely tied up, the patrons began looking for little toys to mess with her. They each took turns now, waiting for one person to enjoy themselves before the next one did. One man, with a tiger mask, grabbed a riding crop and began to lightly slap her on her butt, making her moan into her gag. He increased in intensity until the last SMACK made the model’s body bounce in pain. He smiled in satisfaction and let the next person go.

A woman with a flamingo mask was next, and she had a lit candle in her hands. She stepped daintily up onto the table and sat down next to the model. She carefully dribbled some hot wax onto the model’s back, making her cry out into her gag in pain.

“Yeah, you like that?” the woman said, getting into her role as dom. “You deserve it, don’t you, you little piece of–”

“OK, that’s enough”, the man with the brown rabbit mask said, stepping in. I assumed he was the leader of the group, there to make sure nobody got too carried away.

The flamingo woman seemed disappointed but listened nonetheless. She let more wax dribble onto the model’s back, making her squirm again, before getting off the table.

The next person was the woman I had followed in, with the snow fox mask and the blue dress. I was interested to see what she would do, since she had seemed like the most elegant and reserved one of the group. She approached the table, palming something out of my sight. I craned my neck to see what she was doing, and saw that she had sat on the table. She swung her feet around and slid towards the model, who was breathing heavily through her nose, anticipating the next torture she would receive.

The lady in the blue dress carefully leaned down near her head, obscuring my sight of what she was doing. When she stepped back, I gasped. She had slid down the model’s bra so that her breasts were exposed, and she had clamped on a pair of nipple clamps that I had never seen before. I guessed that they were her personal ones because they were made of some shiny crystal or gemstone, but still had the same pointy teeth that dug into the nipples. The clamps must have been painful since the model whined into her gag, twisting her body a little to try to cope with the feeling of the harsh metal poking into her sensitive breasts.

At that moment, I felt all eyes turn to me. I realized it was my turn to do something to the damsel. I had a mini panic attack: I had been enthralled by everyone else and hadn’t planned for something to do. I quickly scanned the table, looking for something interesting. My eyes settled on a pair of earplugs, so I awkwardly grabbed them and stepped forward. I hopped up onto the table like I had seen the others do and roughly stuffed them in the model’s ears, trying to get out of the view of everyone as quickly as possible.

When I returned to my spot around the table, I realized that people were still watching me. Looking up, I saw looks of curiosity and puzzlement: not things I wanted associated with me. I decided to try to move things on by a simple cough, but to my horror, my voice cracked.

“AhEm, er, cough cough, A-hem”. Looking around, the puzzlement had turned to suspicion. I made eye contact with the man in the brown suit, and he had the same look on his face. I must have looked super uncomfortable, because he then said,

“I’m so sorry to ask this, since this is a masquerade party and all, but do I know you?”

I knew I looked super uncomfortable now. All eyes were on me as I hesitated, saying, “I don’t recognize you, sorry. I guess not. I’ve never been here before, this is my first time.” I knew I had said something wrong when everyone’s looks of suspicion changed to confusion, then anger.

“Well, I should know you, since I’m the host”, the man said, his voice rising. “I would have invited you specifically.”

I knew I was in hot water, so I rushed my next words. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t recognize you with the mask!” I laughed uncomfortably, which didn’t help my situation. “No, I’m Lady Trammel, Kyle Trammel’s wife.” I pulled the name from my fake invitation that I had made. I knew she was going to be at this party, I just didn’t know who she was or if she had even showed up.

The man suddenly looked confused. “You?” he asked, pointing at me, “are Lady Trammel?”

I doubled down. “That’s me!”

The lady in the blue dress that I had followed suddenly said something. “That’s not possible”, she said, stepping forward. “Because I am Lady Trammel.”

The other guests in the room quickly put two and two together. I knew I was busted, and they all knew it too. I had to leave quickly.

I threw my hands up, quickly stepping backwards, out of the circle and towards the door. “Alright, you got me, I think I’ll just be leaving then–” I cut off as I ran into something behind me. Glancing back, I saw that it was the man with the tiger mask. He was quite a bit taller than me, even with my heels, and so he was looking down on me with a stern look on his face.

“Oh, I can’t let you do that now, since you know what we all look like”, the brown-rabbit man, who I now knew was the host of the party, said threateningly. “You are gonna need to stay here for a while.”

I tried to run. I really did. I shoved the man with the tiger mask as hard as I could and got three steps in before I was grabbed by another guest. I threw a wild punch, connecting with something, but I was instantly tackled from another direction. Once I was on the ground, it was all over. I struggled as hard as I could, but the multiple people holding me down was too much. I felt the mask be ripped off my face as I fought against the other guests.

“Get her on the table!” I heard someone shout. I was picked up and pulled over to the table. I suddenly realized what was gonna happen to me, and I redoubled my efforts to escape. I had walked right into the lion’s den, and I was paying the consequences of it.

I was roughly slammed into the table. I saw that someone had pulled the model, who was still bound and gagged, to one end of the table, out of the way. Once on the table, I was completely cooked. I had already seen the speed and efficiency that the guests had had with tying up a model, but their haste was doubled, now that they had an actual damsel to restrain. And they didn’t decide on a method of binding me before-hand like they had the model, everyone did their own thing. I kicked and struggled as long as my legs were free, but they were quickly wrapped in rope, tape and belts. To my embarrassment, my dress was pulled off me, leaving me on the table in my underwear and bra. My wrists were tied with rope, then the rope was covered in tape, then a belt was wrapped over all three. The same happened with my elbows, and my arms. Tape and rope were wrapped around my body, pulling my arms into my back. At some point in my struggle, a massive leather armbinder was slid over the top of everything, further entombing my arms to their bondage. And by some cruel stroke of fate, it was exactly my size. Every belt was tightened as far as my body would allow it, then one more click further. Belts were crossed over my chest and tightened, crushing my hands into the bottom of the armbinder as it was pulled upwards towards my head.

The first time I tried to shout for help, a wad of cloth was roughly stuffed into my mouth. I tried to spit it out, but it was quickly followed by tape to secure it in. I tried to push my tongue through before they started to wrap, but I was no match for their speed. The woman with the flamingo mask wrapped the tape around my head incredibly tightly, crushing the cloth deeper into my mouth and extending my jaw painfully wide. My eyes began to water as I groaned into the gag, struggling against my bonds. She then grabbed a leather panel gag, just like the one on the model (minus the blindfold) and pulled it over my head, pulling every strap tight, crushing everything even more.

It only took a minute, but when everyone stepped back to look at their handiwork, it was a sight to behold. I was naked except for my underwear and bra, and everything was completely bound in pointlessly-heavy bondage. My legs were bound together at the toes, feet, ankles, calves, knees and thighs with rope, belts and wraps of tape. My arms were wrapped in the same combination of tape and rope and belts, then all covered up by an excruciatingly tight arm-binder.

My head was swathed in tape and leather, completely muting my pathetic cries for help. They came out as muted moans, my body shaking with the effort to make a sound. I gasped for breath, sucking in air through my nose. My body was shivering and shaking from the tightness of everything. I struggled against my bonds, but I knew enough about bondage that I knew it was pointless. My body was completely at the mercy of the people around me, who I already knew were serious about their bondage games.

As I sat, sucking in air through my nose and vainly moaning for help, the host of the party addressed the guests. “Well, uhh, I guess we have a new model then!” I looked up from my bondage, looking at him in panic. “Since we can’t just let her go, I guess you can teach her why she shouldn’t snoop around places she doesn’t belong.”

I looked around at the guests as they slowly started coming towards me. I pleaded with them in my eyes to be nice, but they ignored it. The idea of a true damsel, not a model, that they would get to dominate must have been pure heaven to them.

“Also, I won’t stop you. She can take whatever you guys want to throw at her”, the man said, tipping back in his chair on the other side of the room. My head spun around, staring at him in shock. He made eye contact and just laughed, propping his feet up on another chair and lighting up another cigar. He was slowly obscured from view as the guests closed in, each one taking up their weapon of choice.

I gulped. I knew that hell was coming, and I had planted myself right in the center of the inferno.