I stood as the last demonstration came to an end and gave my slave an absentminded smile. I’d managed to push the rage down and enjoy the rest of my afternoon, but I could still feel it licking at the inside of my ribs, sparks flying in my lungs. I needed to sort this, before it ignited and really ruined the rest of my day. I could see Jake giving me a questioning look out of the corner of my eye, and I turned to him with what I hoped was a genuine, if not broad, smile.

“Jake, I need to work something out,” I said after a moment. “Could you take David back to the hotel room? I’ll be up in half an hour or so.”

Jake looked at me quizzically, and from inside his latex cube, David also gave me a concerned look. I gave him a faint smile.

“It’s okay, just a business thing,” I assured them both. “Jake, feel free to let David out for a stretch, but the gag stays on, as does the rest of the gear. Help yourself to the mini-bar though.” I gave Jake a long look. “And I trust you not to do anything stupid with my slave, but he is in chastity, so don’t get any ideas.”

Jake grinned and saluted.

“Come on then chap,” he said brightly.

I took a breath and smoothed my jacket, watching them until they were out of sight, and then turned sharply on my heel.

I’ve been accused many times of being a sadist, and while I accepted it was probably true, the title never sat well with me. In my mind, a sadist gets their kicks from pain, and pain was never my thing. Discipline, power, being obeyed, that was my drug, that was what turned me on. Orderly ropes, snugging some-one up, slowly cinching away their freedom and leaving them struggling and moaning before me, that was where I got my kicks. I never got a sexual thrill from pain, but sometimes it was necessary. Not for sex, never for sex, but anger was an entirely different thing.

How dare they? How dare they threaten my boy? My boy. On my weekend off?! I could just imagine smearing that smug Prescott’s face all over a wall, and painting it with his blood. I wasn’t angry. Angry was too mild a word. I was furious, enraged. I was absolutely fucking incandescent, and now David was safely out of the way, I wore my bad mood like a mask, wrapped up in it like a black mantle, trailing behind me like a fierce wake. I stalked my way through the hotel, people parting before me like they could sense my bad mood, the only person daring to stand in my way quailing at my death glare. Within moments I was in Sinner’s Row, barely looking at the people either side of me. At the end of the end was a red door and I was beyond it in seconds. There was a woman in black leather beyond the door, and one look at my face had her reaching for a key on the wall.

“Going by that stormcloud, you need an extreme masochist,” She remarked. “Gender?”

“Male,” I said.

She gave me a shrewd smile that I did not return. She selected a key and threw it across to me.

“Dungeon C,” She said. “Give him everything you’ve got.”

The rooms here were nothing like the ornate playrooms downstairs, they had blank metal doors with spray-painted letters on them. I stopped at room C and pushed it open. It was a small room, practically a cube, 2 metres in all directions, concrete floor, grey-painted breezeblock walls. In the centre of the room was a man, completely nude save a fabric hood over his face. His arms were pulled over his head in metal cuffs, snapped onto a metal chain hanging from the ceiling. To one side of the room was a big old wooden table. I kicked the door shut behind me and slowly prowled over to the table, making sure my heels clicked on the floor.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw the man shiver, and the evil part in me stretched, making the corner of my lip curl up. Neatly aligned on the table top were whips, everything from the standard broad-headed riding crop to the many tailed flogger, some with knotted tails like the traditional cat of nine tails, even a broad leather belt, although I noticed that the buckle had been coated in rubber to prevent too much damage being done with it. Behind the whip, in the second row, was a selection of paddles in various shapes and sizes, as well as pair of boxing gloves.

I slowly ran a hand over them, weighing a paddle in my hand, spinning the handle, then slowly putting it back. I could see the man fidgeting at the clatter as it returned to the table. I picked up a long thin cane and whistled it through the air. I saw the man skitter at the sound and took a breath. I imagined that smug Kraken Club guy, Prescott with his blonde coiffured hair and swagger. Not so big now, huh? I turned towards the man in the centre of the room. Too tall, too well built, but… he would have to do. I would have much rather that it was the actual article, but the fire was burning inside me, and it had to consume some-one.

This guy would do. I swished the cane in my hand, giving a savage grin at the high pitched whistle it gave. I took three steps forwards, the click of my heels echoing around the bare room.

“Let’s begin, shall we?” I murmured.



I finished composing the email as the lift stopped. I re-read it. It was short, terse even, but it said everything it needed to say. My 2 week notice. If the Raven was right, and if I’d read between the lines enough of what Prescott had said, then the optimal time to have done this was 2 weeks ago, but the second best time was now. That smug bastard. The flames of anger that had momentarily subsided smouldered again, then faded back out.

I stood by what I had said. If I ever saw him again, the third time would be with him in a hospital bed and drinking through a straw.

I sent the email and tucked my phone back into my pocket, rubbing my shoulder with a slight grimace. My arm was killing me. I hoped that guy was okay – I had left a twenty for him as a tip, and the girl had assured me that he was an extreme masochist and probably adored every second, but his cries still echoed in my ears. I sighed, and jumped as David bumped his arm gently against mine. I smiled at him, meeting his slightly concerned eyes. Better some-one who enjoyed it and had signed up for it than David, I reminded myself. I could never have done something like that to David, but I might have been harder on him, and none of this was his fault. Now we could both enjoy the afterparty.

I slid my arm casually around David’s waist and cuddled him close as the lift doors opened. We stepped out into the midst of a strange scene. The huge conference space that Bondcon had used had been almost entirely stripped back, and there, in the lobby was the strangest came of quoits (horseshoes for the yanks) I had ever seen. 3 slaves were stood in the middle of a ring of rope, tightly encased in various types of restraints – one in bandages, one in latex, and what appeared to be very thick layers of ducttape. Thus sealed into wiggling faceless statues, and clearly tightly gagged underneath the coverings, each had a bizarre helmet strapped to their heads. It looked like a thick TV aerial, a spike with a plastic sphere on the top. Each with a number of rubber rings hanging from them.

“Champagne Mistress Eliza?”

I jumped, seeing Jake at my elbow with a tray of drinks. I took one with a grin.

“When you said you had to leave the moment I re-entered the room, I didn’t think it was because you had to get back on duty,” I remarked. “I didn’t get you in any trouble did I?

“Oh no, I did explain to my boss that I was slave sitting, and I actually got a pat on the back for my diligence,” Jake patted David’s shoulder brightly. “So how do you like the party games? Want to have a go?”

David ducked his head slightly and gave a little uncomfortable squirm which told me that yes, yes he would like to, but I would have to force him into it.  I stood there, and shook my head bemusedly.

“I have so many questions,” I said with a slight laugh.

“They’re all our left over sinners being our party gamers until the Run starts in earnest,” Jake explained. “Have a wander around, there are some truly fantastically bizarre ones going on, although my personal favourite will always be the dunk tank.”

I drained my glass of champagne and put the empty back on Jake’s tray.

“Before you slide off,” I said. “I know I wasn’t in the best of moods earlier, and I don’t know if I said, but thanks for your help today, you’ve been an absolute star.”

“You’re welcome,” He said brightly. “I’ve had a fantastic day. It has honestly been a real pleasure.”

I smiled at his blatant enthusiasm.

“If you ever need some-one to help out…” Jake added leadingly, grinning. “You know, kink parties, wait-staff, whatever, I’m down.”

“You’re first on my list,” I assured him.

“You better have my number then,” He passed me a piece of paper with his number written on it, then looked at David. “Don’t worry mate, I like the scene, but I have no intention of being in your position, and your mistress would never have it any other way.” He put an arm around David. “It’s been a pleasure spending time with you too – make sure she looks after you, okay?

He gave David an affectionate squeeze around the shoulders with one arm, balancing the tray on the other arm. I paused, then pulled out my phone.

“Say cheese,” I said with a grin.

“Cheese,” Said Jake instantly.

“Chmmhm!” said David, still blushing vivid scarlet.

Jake gave David another half hug and a crafty smack on the butt. I grinned, checking the pictures.

“Now this is definitely going in the album,” I told David brightly.

“I really better get back to work,” Jake said. “But if you’re really up for a momento – there’s a 3D scanner over there.”

“Really?” I looked around, then up at David. “So I can have a tiny David to keep forever in a bell jar?”

“Pretty much,” Jake said with a grin.

“Sold!” I announced brightly. “Come on Davey, I need a mini-you!”

I gave a little tug on David’s lead and he obediently trotted after me, looking around as he did. He’d had a slight costume change to prepare him for the afterparty and it’s notorious ‘Run’, although for him, this was practically everyday wear by now. He was wearing a snug dark blue latex catsuit, with sparkly powder blue heeled boots. The boots did have 6 inch heels, but as they had a decent platform on the front of the foot he was coping remarkably well with them, even with the 15 inch chain between the heels.

His arms were held securely behind his back in a box tie in a matching sparkly blue armbag, the straps webbing across his slender chest. I’d carefully drawn each and every one lovingly tight – enough to be secure, but not enough to be uncomfortable, not yet anyway. It also matched the basque I’d fastened around him and then painstakingly drawn tight. Corsets weren’t my usual thing, but he had to have one to meet the correct level of handicap for the Run, and it was sufficiently reminiscent of the one that Tim Curry had so famously worn in the Rocky Horror show for it to amuse me. It had been a new sensation for him, having to breathe off the top of his chest rather than the usual belly-breathing.

He also had his favourite full hood on, although his mouth was packed full of a soft sponge rather than anything solid, and the blindfold had been left in the room, leaving him able to cautiously peer out at everything. Added to the bondcon collar still secure around his neck and attached to my lead, he looked just deliciously adorable. I leaned in to casually grope his butt and felt the gentle vibrations from the butt plug seated securely in it.

“Mhmmpf,” David moaned softly.

“I love you too slave,” I said with a grin.

Sauntering past a few other ‘party games’; including a person in a sleep sack worming their way through a knee-high maze with only the shouts of the onlookers as a guide, pin the tail on the slave, which was pretty self explanatory only using a butt-plug with a unicorn tail attached rather than stickers, and a bunch of slaves in full restraint desperately lapping at frozen blocks of ice through their ring gags, trying to get to the key held within before any-one else did, we eventually made it to the 3D printing booth, where a small queue had formed. It comprised of a circle of pillars, each full of bright LED’s, with a circular rug in the centre.

There were a pair of bondcon employees nearby, one working the computer attached to the gear, another helping people in and out.

“I can’t wait to have a mini-you to keep on my desk,” The boy infront of me teased his girlfriend. “I’ll show you off to all my friends at work.”

“Try it and I’ll convince them to let you work from home again,” his girlfriend shot back, in no-nonsense tones.

I mentally cheered her on, then took a moment to look at them. They were both in their early twenties, the boy slightly taller than his girlfriend, even in her sky-scraper heels. They made a fantastic pair, I had to admit. He was tall and slender, with shoulder-length rich dark blue hair, currently pulled up into a stubby tail at the base of his neck. A midnight-blue shirt was worn under a black waistcoat, which to my delight had lights built into it to make intricate patterns, the thread of light twirled all over the black fabric. The back of the waistcoat had a cool hologram that changed between a wolf and a skull depending which side you stood of him. His black jeans were tucked into a pair of well worn new rock boots, and a nerf gun, modified to look like something out of the latest dystopian film was strapped to his thigh.

His girlfriend though, was the total antithesis of him. Her vivid red hair was twirled up into an intricate pattern of braids around the pair of goggles perching on the top of her head, their kaleidoscopic lenses bouncing rainbows around the room whenever they hit the light. She was wearing a red velvet tailcoat, but the tail actually became a layer of frills, forming a bustle attached to her coat. Underneath she was wearing jacquard-patterned crimson bell-bottom jeans, brown and brass heeled new rocks peeping gloriously out of the bottom. Added to the sharp white shirt with the high collar, lace jabot and black cameo brooch at the hollow of her throat, as well as the handbag in the shape of a teapot hanging from the crook of her arm, she looked like a Victorian Aviatrix had just stalked out of the pages of a steampunk book and was here to take ALL the prisoners.

“I’ll put you on a little shrine in between my two screens?” the boy continued, grinning wickedly.

Her eyes, a brilliant acid green, narrowed.

“Shrine, you say?” She tapped her finger on her chin. “You may continue.”

“I will of course festoon it with tiny little fabric flowers…”

“Why not real flowers?”

“They would die, and they’d overshadow the tiny statue of you, and we can’t have that,” the boy said swiftly.

“This is true,” Her eyes narrowed again. “Are you laughing at me?”

“I would never do that,” the boy said innocently.

“Yes you would,” She said.

“You’re right, I would,” He grinned.

He grabbed her around the waist for a hug and kissed her on the cheek.

“You love me really Caro,” He said playfully.

“Did I ever say otherwise?” She demanded. “But you know there will always be repercussions.”

“And I love it,” He kissed her again.

“Dork,” She swatted him off, but I could see the blush under her makeup and her brilliant smile.

I turned to look at David, who, typically, had been totally oblivious, watching a nearby game. It appeared to be a variant of ‘sleeping lions’ where 5 slaves had been strapped to a table, and was being tickled and vibed by the onlookers. Everytime one made a noise or squirmed away, an additional bit of bondage was applied to them. I leant into David.

“Shall we try that when I get you home?” I cooed in his ear.

David jumped about a mile and shook his head wildly.

“Okay, you’re up,” The bondcon person said to the couple in front of us, ushering them into the booth. “Sorry for the wait.”

“Not a problem, we had to wait much longer for photographs when this one dragged me to comic-con,” the redhead said pointedly, jabbing her boyfriend in the chest.

“You were the one who wanted a picture with David Tennant.”

“Tennant will always be my Doctor.”

“Oh, I see how it is, am I not good enough for you…”

The redhead rolled her eyes. As her boyfriend tried to dramatically storm out of the booth, she caught his arm, deftly knocked his legs out from under him and escorted him to the floor. Before he knew it, he was face-down on the carpet and she had firmly placed one booted foot on his rear and adopted the ‘triumphant hunter’ pose, hands on hips, looking out into the horizon. The boy, accepting his fate, just propped his head up on his fist and adopted a long suffering expression

“Hold it!” the bondcon employee at the computer said.

All of the lights flared, and then dropped back down. The girl laughed and took her foot off her boyfriend’s butt and pulled him to his feet.

“Now how about I keep that on my desk?” She demanded playfully.

“Empty threat, you work at the NHS and they insist on a clear desk policy…”

Still bickering the pair of them vacated the booth and I stepped up. I looked thoughtfully at David, and saw him quail slightly under my appraising look.

“I wish I’d brought my duct-tape…” I muttered.

A silver roll appeared in my peripheral view. The redhaired steampunk grinned at me, her teapot handbag open on her arm.

“I also have red tape if that’s better for you?” She asked with a grin.

“Red and blue? That would really be a fashion faux-pas!” I shot back.

She looked sideways at her boyfriend with a wicked grin.

“You’d be surprised.”

I grinned.

“Thanks,” I took the tape from her. “I made the mistake of wearing a dress – no pockets.”

“Always a mistake,” She agreed.

I looked at David.

“Assume the position,” I commanded.

“The party position?” the boy asked with a grin.

David obediently shuffled into the middle of the booth and knelt down in the ‘slave position, knees apart ankles, crossed behind him. I stepped in and strapped his thighs tightly to his calves with the tape, keeping him in the kneeling position.

“Looks like a party position to me,” I remarked with a laugh, unclipping his lead and stepping back out of the sphere. “Energise.”

The lights flashed and I gave the tape back out to the steampunk.

“Thanks for your help.”

“No worries,” she pulled a pocket knife out of her handbag.

“Dear god, what else do you have in there?” I demanded, sidetracked.

She looked inside.

“Purse, keys, phone, collapsible riding crop, duct-tape, ballgag, handcuffs, just the bare essentials,” She listed cheerily.

Slitting the tape and pulling it off his catsuit, I helped David back to his feet and out of the booth. Returning the knife, the redhead shut the penknife and dropped it into her bag.

“Caroline Huxley,” the Steampunk introduced herself. “And this is Toby Wheatley.”

“Yo,” Toby said cheerfully.

“Eliza Grey, and this is Davey,” I nodded to David. “Is this your first time to bondcon?”

“Not even slightly,” Caroline assured me, then bumped Toby with her hip. “It is his though. It only seemed fair – I have to go to his geek fests, so he has to come to mine.”

“Oh the hardship,” Toby rolled his eyes.

“So you haven’t enrolled him in any of the races then?” I asked.

“Races?” Toby asked suspiciously.

Caroline gave me a wicked smile.

“The night is still young,” She assured me. “Hope to see you around Eliza.”

I laughed at the continuing bickering as they walked away.

“What races?!”

I reeled David in and escorted him over to the model station. Appraising the amazingly detailed scan and the various different sizes, I eventually plumped for the 5 inch model.

“Just think, I can put it in a belljar and then get you to dust yourself,” I teased David, one arm around his waist.

A low gong rang around the foyer, and then a voice resonated over the PA.

“All participants in this evening’s races, please present yourself at Door A in the foyer. All spectators, please proceed to Door D, thank you.”

I pulled David along cheerily.

“Come on, you have an appointment with destiny,” I informed him.

He gave me a started look and I just grinned back. There was another pair of bondcon employees stood at door A, one with a clipboard, busily checking names off. There was a couple before me, pulling a very heavily bound slave along. A handsome man with olive coloured skin and dark hair was chasing the slave along with a paddle, tapping it on the arse any time it stopped for breath, while a short girl in all black pulled at it’s collar. Initially I thought that the slave was a girl, as its dark hair had been pulled into a ponytail out the back of it’s hood, and it was dressed in lurid pink lycra, but going by the heavy crotch roping that clearly delineated a trapped dick, it was clearly male.

The slave was wearing a thick latex leotard, which was basically a thong at the back, revealing it’s buttcheeks that were already shining red from the paddling it had clearly received earlier. Latex stockings were attached to the leotard, tucked into boots with huge heels, forcing him to bend his knees and stick his butt out further to keep his balance, making it an even bigger target. A white corset, drawn as tight as it possibly could be was clamped around his waist and elbow-length gloves sealed his hands into inflated spheres. That clearly wasn’t the only inflated thing, further pumps protruded from between his buttcheeks and the front of his hood, which had been painted with a doll-face, although his wide panicked hazel eyes stared out through the holes.

All of these things might have been manageable on their own, but it looked like some-one had been determined to use as much rope on him as they possibly could. His legs were practically welded together with the stuff, meaning he could only hop along in his goth mistress’ wake, and his whole torso was banded with the stuff, crushing his slightly chubby form within it’s strict harness.  His arms were likewise strapped together, and the cruellest touch was that the ‘lead’ the goth girl was holding was actually a piece of rope tied tightly around his captive genitals.

“Dépêches toi, Boss,” the girl tutted, giving an extra-hard tug on the rope.

The man followed it up with another swift swipe on his bouncing butt. The goth girl reached the door and switched to immaculate, if French accented, English.

“Hello, Slave Vi for the severe handicap race,” She said brightly.

The doorwoman inspected him, and then took the lead from her. The two handlers looked at each other, laughing at some personal joke and sauntered off towards the other door.

“Slave Davey,” I said cheerfully. “Booked in for the moderate handicap race.”

She ran a pencil down the list.

“Perfect,” She took the lead from me, then ran her eyes over David. “There’s nothing solid in his gag is there?”

“No. it’s all sponge padding.”

“Just a health and safety question – you can imagine.”

“I can.”

“Any internal stimulation?”

“One butt plug at low level.”

“Right…” She checked the rules. “Sorry, for moderate classification, you’re going to need to kick that up to medium-high.”

I grinned at David.

“Certainly,” I used the remote to set the vibe up at a higher level, enjoying David’s soft moan.

“Otherwise… gag, hood, corset, arm restraints, leg restraints… you appear to meet all the criteria,” She turned to him. “If he wins his heat, you know that you will be required to take part in the final?”

I grinned.

“You bet,” I smacked his butt. “And you better make that final.”

David looked momentarily terrified as he was lead through the door and vanished beyond it. I headed over to door D where people were streaming in. The door opened onto a set of stands, giving a fantastic view onto an obstacle course. It was all heavily padded, and some of it was inflatable, but it was a pretty difficult course. First they had to wade through a thigh-deep pit of foam boxes, then scramble out, run across a narrow beam with swinging bean-bags designed to knock them off, then jump across several circular platforms, slide down a ramp, crawl through a tube then throw themselves between 2 rolling cylinders and stagger across the finish line.

“Hey, Eliza! There’s a seat here,” A voice assured me.

I turned to see the redhead from earlier, Caroline in one of the front row seats, patting the seat next to her. She grinned at me as I dropped into it, popping open a bag of popcorn she’d pulled out of her tea-pot shaped handbag.

“Nice to see you again,” I remarked, then glanced around. “Where’s your other half?”

Caroline grinned.

“Luckily for me, they were putting on an extra low-handicap race,” She said smugly. “It only took a little bit of goading to get him to sign up.”

I looked at her, then at the bag of popcorn.

“Not that you planned that at all?” I smirked.

She blinked her big green eyes at me innocently, the offered me the bag.

“Of course not, I just like to be prepared…” she shrugged, but there was definitely more than a soupcon of smugness in her tones. “Popcorn?”

“Thanks,” I helped myself to a handful.

The stands slowly filled up around us, and then the gong rang again. A beautiful lady in a burlesque-style outfit stalked out onto the stage opposite the stands.

“Good Evening Bondcon!” she yelled into a mike, and I recognised it as Lady Rubina from the show earlier. “How are we all?!”

There was the obligatory ‘Woooo!”’ from the stand and she laughed.

“Well it is lovely to be back at Bondcon, and I have been asked to compare the bondage races tonight, finishing in the annual bondcon run!” She continued. “I could waffle on, but I know what you all want! Bring out the subs!”

There was another resounding gong and 10 subs appeared at the starting line. Toby was instantly easy to spot. While his waistcoat and gun had been removed, his blue hair was a total giveaway. His hands were cuffed behind his back, and a strip of red tape had been pressed over his lips, concealing something stuffed within. All of the other starting subs were in a similar outfits, some more or less clothed – the girl at the fair end just wearing a bikini-top and a pair of daisy-dukes, but they were all cuffed with their arms behind them, and gagged in one way or the other.

Lady Rubina picked up a bullwhip.

“At the crack of the whip, you will all go. The first person to reach the finish line gets to compete in the Bondcon run at the end of the evening and win the prize for their masters and mistresses – platinum membership for next year’s event and the coveted bondcon medal!” Rubina called with an obligatory ‘ooooh’ from the crowd. “On your marks, get set…”

There was a resounding crack from the whip and they were off. I blinked in surprise, helping myself to more popcorn.

“He’s fast, isn’t he?” I remarked, grinning.

“I did tell him that if he lost, he would have to do the washing up for a solid month,” Caroline grinned, then began to cheer loudly. “COME ON TOBY!”

Toby had charged through the boxes with no problem and leapt out, but instantly was toppled off the balance beam by a swinging bag. There was an ‘oooh’ from the crowd, as another 2 subs fell foul to the swinging bags. The blonde girl in the daisy dukes was more cautious, watching the swinging, seeing the pattern, and then charged across. A bag just clipped her across the shoulder and she fell, but managed to cling on with her legs and squirm across the rest of the way. She just made it across as Toby made it back to the beginning of the beam.

He made it on the second attempt and was hard on her heels as they bounced across the platforms and slid down the slide. They were neck and neck at the tube, but only one could fit through first. Toby, to my utter surprise, stepped back to let the girl go first.

“Bastard,” Caroline tutted.

“What?” I asked.

“He’s just catering to his audience,” She said with a grin. “I’m forever telling him to act like a gentleman.”

The girl fell out of the tube, Toby swiftly following, then the two of them sprinted to the foam mangle. The girl reached it first, but fell hard on the landing, and Toby was up and over the finish line. Caroline was on her feet, clapping and screaming her approval and then sat down with a wild grin at me.

“Let’s hope your David does as well.”

In dribs and drabs the other subs made it over the finishing line, although one didn’t finish as no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t time it right across the balance beam. He was escorted away by bondcon enforcers.

“Oh dear, looks like some-one’s going to have some extra education, doesn’t it?” Lady Rubina called, laughing. “Next we have another light handicap race! Bring out the subs!”

The winner in this heat was a beautiful dark-skinned girl, who easily outstripped all her competition, barely breathing hard through her breather ball gag.

“She’s stunning,” Caroline remarked.

“I would,” I nodded my agreement.

“Kidnap her, or nail her?” Caroline clarified.

“Yes,” I replied with a grin.

“You’re my kind of girl,” Caroline said approvingly. “Ooh, look, your boy’s up!”

I leant forwards at the next call of ‘bring out the subs!’. 6 subs emerged at the starting block, and there, furthest from me was my beautiful boy in blue. I leant forwards. While there were much fewer people in this heat compared to the previous heats, probably due to the exacting criteria for entry, it looked like he had some stiff competition. Primarily, a pair of twin boys in purple latex. They both looked very fit in their skin-tight costumes, although they were both absolutely caked in purple tape, sealing their arms behind them and trapping them to their chests, as well as forming makeshift corsets. Somehow their owner had made ankle cuffs out of the duct-tape as well, with a length between them long enough to allow them to race. Their heels had been taped onto their feet as well. I had to admire the dedication, as well as the sheer OCD of their owner – they both looked absolutely identical, from their hair, gags and restraints.

There was a girl in a latex french maid outfit, a boy in a bunnysuit, a girl in some glorious red lingerie, as well as someone who appeared to be in a full fursuit. I gave the purple fox a serious look. Well, it does take all sorts to make a word.

“At the crack of the whip…”

The girl in red lingerie fell face-forwards into the foam boxes, clearly panicking and thinking that the race had started. Rubina tutted.

“We have a false start!” She called.

Bondcon enforcers swept down to extract the girl from the boxes and escort her off the course.

“Okay, let’s try that again,” Rubina said. “At the crack of the whip, you may start. Ready, steady…”

Crack. The nearest twin in purple was already charging forwards, his brother not far behind. David had also dropped into the boxes and was wading awkwardly through it. All that practice in heels was worth it though, he wasn’t hindered much, and had awkwardly scuttled out of the pit not far behind the twins. The first twin charged through the swinging bags like he barely felt them hitting him, the second pausing to watch the pattern of swinging, and then sped after him. David skittered nervously at the beam, only to be knocked carelessly out of the way by the bunnysuit boy.

“That evil little…” I snarled, then burst out laughing as the bunny was instantly knocked off the beam. “Serves you right!”

David darted across, gracefully avoiding the bags and slid down the ramp, the latex maid on his heels as they hopped across the platforms. She dived ontop of him, scrambling through the tube first, but as she fell out the other end, she managed to trip one of the twins. The other twin froze for a second, looking back at his brother, which gave David time to hurtle past them, flop, somewhat inelegantly through the foam mangle and roll over the finish line.

“YEAH!” I leapt out of my seat, then sat back down, grinning at Caroline. “It seems our boys are going to be up against each other.”

“From now on we are enemies,” Caroline joked, and then tilted the popcorn back towards me. “More popcorn?”

The following race was nothing less than hilarious. While the criteria of the moderate races had seemed extreme enough, the severe race was a total other level. It required total restraint, legs and arms totally sealed, as well as heels, corsets and hoods. There, sure enough was the tightly tied pink form of Vince, along with 4 other unfortunates, all of them looking more like worms than humans. At the crack of the whip, 2 of them instantly fell over and hit the boxes face first. Vince  however, appeared to have had a lot of practice at this, hopping along like a veritable little bunny.  Leaving all the others in the dust, he soon had cleared the course, leaving the other 4 squirming helplessly along the length of the course.

“Ladies and gentlemen we have our clear winner!” Rubina called. “Someone help those poor unfortunate souls off the course. Thank you. Now, you’re going to have to listen to me witter for a few moments now while we adjust the course. Back by popular demand is the hardcore level.”

There was a huge cheer at this. Caroline looked at me.

“Hardcore level?”

I grinned.

“Full sensory deprivation,” I explained.

“Jeez,” Caroline said appreciatively.

As we watched, some staff ran out, covering over the pits either side of the balance beam and around the circular platforms and removing the tube and foam mangle. This basically left the run as a flat course, with swinging bags part way along, as well as the slide a little further along. When one of them gave Rubina the ‘ok’ symbol, she raised the mike again.

“Bring out the subs!”

If the previous round’s subs had looked like worms, this was something even worse. They were basically just limbless statues, completely encased in various mediums – one didn’t even look like they could bend their legs, let alone anything else. In their thick hoods, they couldn’t hear the massive cheers they received. Rubina trotted down from her stage and stalked to behind the 5 hapless slaves.

“On the crack of the whip…” she said slyly, then swiped it across all of the slaves’ butts.

They all jumped and started to shuffle/hop/wiggle forwards. One hadn’t gone more than a few inches before falling face first. It seemed to work in their favour though, as they seemed to be a lot quicker sniper-crawling. One of them took a totally wrong turn and started heading out towards the stands, another veering off course and falling, taking another with them. The one remaining standing was soon collapsed by the swinging bag, but sniper-crawl person kept determinedly going. It was not a fast race, not even slightly, but the resounding cheer when they finally inched over the line almost brought the house down. The sad thing was that they couldn’t hear it.

“Well that was fun,” Caroline remarked cheerfully.

“They did it the year before last, but they didn’t do it last year as they thought it took up too much time,” I explained.

The gong rang through the air.

“Can Mistresses Caitlin, Dita and Eliza, Madame Huxley and Master Lorik please make their way to door A please?” Rubina called.

“Madame Huxley?” I asked, getting up.

Caroline shrugged.

“Mistress never sat well with me,” she remarked as we both shimmied across the stands. “Best of luck.”

“You too,” I grinned.

We shook hands, and the walked through the door. Caitlin was already there, stood next to the human worm that had won the last round, busily fiddling with his hood, apparently removing the earplugs underneath it. I burst out laughing.

“Don’t tell me that that’s Jem under there,” I demanded.

“It is, and he did very well, don’t you think?” Caitlin said with surprising pride.

I didn’t know the other Masters, although I thought that I might have seen Lorik before, he was a truly immense man from Sweden, broad as a barn door with long blonde hair, a great bit bushy beard and a pleasant, bluff face. The goth girl I had seen shepherding Vince was there, thin and angular with a pin-sharp geometric haircut and so much metal in her ears it was amazing they weren’t the size of dinner plates under the weight. She gave us an absent smile, straightening the front of her black lace-trimmed blouse.

Lady Rubina swept into the room, three huge feathers trailing behind her from her skirt like an old fashioned show girl crossed with a phoenix, her dress and skirt a mix of flame colours, from yellow through to red, her long, long dancer’s legs patterned with red diamonds from her fishnets, her searing red hair piled high on her head and pierced with another feather. Caroline nudged me gently.

“I would,” She muttered quietly, making me giggle despite myself.

Rubina flashed us a brilliant smile.

“Who here has seen the Run before?” She asked.

Caitlin, Lorik and I put our hands up, Caroline and Dita looked confused.

“Right then,” Rubina said. “At this precise moment, the boys are setting up a mountain for your subs to fight their way up. We’re going to take you up to the top – the first sub to make it to the top and kiss their Mistress, master or madame’s boots wins, and wins their mistress, master or madame the prize. The only rule is that you are not allowed to leave your seat at any point. Any questions, arguments, or the like?”

“It’s hardly fair, is it?” Caroline asked. “That poor lad is completely encased,” She pointed at Jem. “Whereas 2 of them are hardly restrained.”

“Ah, forgot to mention,” Rubina said brightly. “There will be a time delay for each. Jem, as the most heavily restrained, will go first and have more time.”

“Still doesn’t seem fair…” Caroline said with a smile. “But okay.”

I grinned.

“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “Toby definitely won’t have it easy.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“Let’s play then.”

The 5 of us were escorted into the area. In the middle a platform had been built, with a smooth slope built up the sides, but the previously empty space was now full. Every-one had emptied from the stands onto the floor, and they parted before Lady Rubina like the red sea before Moses. We were escorted up a set of steps on one side, to the top of the platform, where 5 thrones had been set at the top, facing out over the slopes. The stairs were swiftly covered over. And Lady Rubina, stood behind us in the centre of the hill cracked her whip dramatically.

“Okay – every-one say it with me!” She commanded.

“BRING OUT THE SUBS!” the entire stadium roared.

5 people were marched out. Toby and the beautiful black girl, still very minimally bound, David, still in his blue ensemble and clearly blushing furiously under his hood, the roped up Vince, hopping precariously along in his high heels, and the human worm of Jem. They were all stationed infront of their masters at the bottom of the slope.

“When I say, the first sub will go, going anticlockwise around the slope. You two,” She pointed at Toby and the dark girl. “You will go at the same time at the 4th crack of the whip. Are we ready?”

There was another cheer.

“Are we steady?” Rubina demanded, then gave a crack of the whip.

Jem lurched forwards and started trying to squirm his way up the slope in front of him. He was starting to make some progress, then there was an audible squeak as he slid a little way back. There was a load of cheering, egging him on, and then another crack of the whip from Rubina. Vince hopped forwards trying to bounce up the slope, then toppled backwards. There was an ‘ooh’ from the crowd as he squirmed around, trying to get back up, he just managed it at the next crack. David hurtled forwards, trying to get to me, and this was when the dirty tricks started to come in. The crowd opened fire. Some of them had tennis balls to lob at the climbers, others had supersoakers or waterguns. Most of the fire was focussed on David, as the most able, but as Toby and the other girl entered the competition, they bore the brunt of the fire.

If there’s anything a crowd likes – it’s levelling the playing field and rooting for the underdog. The black girl nearly made it, only to fall at the last hurdle and slide the entire way down on the now soaking wet slide.

“I see what you mean!” Caroline yelled to me, laughing. “COME ON TOBY! What are you, a man or a mouse?!”

From the muffled cursing from the slope, Toby was telling her exactly which one he was, and in no uncertain language. I leant forwards. David had made it half-way up.

“Come on gorgeous,” I called. “You can do the thing!”

He paused to roll his eyes at me, and jumped as a tennis ball hit him square in the back. To the one side, I saw Toby inch further up, then slide back on the wet slope, hitting the girl on the way back down and taking them both down to the crashmats at the bottom. He lay there, panting, but still grinning like an idiot under the tape, which was trying to peel itself off his face. Vince was propelling himself up slowly and surely, but a jet of cold water splashed onto his bare butt. With a squeal audible even through the gag, he also slid dramatically back down.

Jem was stopped halfway up, and in her furious yells at him to hurry up, Caitlin actually left her seat to stride to the side of the of the platform, yelling even more loudly. Rubina cracked her whip again.

“Mistress Caitlin, I’m afraid you are disqualified!” She announced. “You breached the rules.”

Jem gave a sigh, and with comic slowness slid slowly back down and collapsed on the crashmat at the bottom. Caitlin scowled and flounced back to her seat, sprawling dramatically on it, heels in the air. Some-one was getting punished tonight. I felt for Jem.

David’s head appeared over the edge, and I leant forwards.

“Come on mate, nearly there,” I called. “Come on!”

He flopped over the top and squirmed towards me. I stuck my foot out towards him to make the job easier and he bunted his gag against my boot.

“And we have a winner!” Lady Rubina called. “Well done Slave Davey!”

I got up and grabbed my, more than slightly soggy slave, pulling him to his feet and cuddling him tightly.

“I think that’s earned you a dungeon day,” I murmured to him. “Well done gorgeous.”

I felt him give a tired little shudder and just cuddled him closer. I don’t think he remembered much after that, the awarding of the boncon medal, or me sticking him over one shoulder in a fireman’s lift to carry him back to our suite, or having to wait as Dita and her male friend chased their still heavily bound slave out of bondcon. I have a feeling he might remember the kiss of fire he got – when he got a simultaneous kiss from both of the redheads; Caroline and Rubina, but that might just be me. By the time I got him back to the suite, out of his gear and into his bondage ‘jamas and into bed, he was spark out.

I patted his head gently, kissing his cheek.

“Well done my little champion.”