I can't seriously claim that I came here with no idea what could happen or with no opportunity to prepare myself. Yet here I stand with my jeans at my knees, bent over with only red lace panties to protect by bottom against the public spanking it is receiving. It was called The Erotic Trade Show which one must admit rather gives a clue. Moreover my friends had been talking about their experiences at previous shows for the last month and I had oscillated between being terrified and appalled by the idea of attending and being fixated and intrigued. I kept telling my friends that I wouldn't go with them but I think they knew even better than I did that I be coming.
I am a student at Central St Martin's College of Arts and Design in London studying fashion design. I am 29, having qualified in Economics and Acountancy some years ago. I had abandoned a boring and unfulfilling career in industry following finalisation of my divorce from a charming, handsome but boring gentleman who provided me with sufficient funds to try pursuing something that better ignited my passion.
I have somehow have fallen in with a group at college who, to a greater or lesser extent, are all involved or hoping to become employed in the adult entertainment and fetish wear industry. For the most part it is fellow fashion design students utilising lace, rubber and PVC in creative ways but in the case of Kim and Marc they are making short film and media and in the case of George, the design and manufacture of various items and contraptions which all appear to me to involve spanking.
My friends have been regaling me for the last month with stories of live demonstrations of spanking machines and various sex tools, equipment and furniture as well as fashion shows of fetish wear. If they are to be believed, there is also a surprising amount of free samples which kit them out for parties and clubs for the year to come as well as providing inspiration, ideas and even fabrics and materials for their creative assignments. Quite a few of the group work weekends or evenings in small workshops making club and fetish wear.
When we'd all met up on the underground, unfathomably early on a Saturday morning for students, we were a motley crew wearing a range of outfits from barely legal scraps of leather and lace through slutty school girl uniforms (on males and females) to my rather more conservative ripped black jeans, red patent DM boots and tartan jacket over a black tee. My confidence in the face of disapproving stares from early morning London commuters was bolstered by the fact that seven of us had turned up to travel together.
As anticipated, a number of exhibitors were still arriving or unloading when were arrived shortly before the official opening time. The "experienced" attendees are confident that turning up first thing before most visitors not only allows the opportunity to get a quick feel for exhibition but also provides the chance to offer assistance to some of the smaller businesses wth unloading, helping out and generally ingratiating one's self with business owners who might at least be good for a free sample and better still, a lead on a job. And so it was that I found myself casually strolling around the concrete floor of a huge exhibition hall crammed with lorry loads of clothing, toys, movies and equipment of every size. The great majority would shock most people and the rest may not do so simply because its use or purpose is too obscure to be apparent.
Intrigued as I was to come along and peer into this underworld inhabited by my classmates, I don't actually have the practical interest that they do. My designs don't generally incorporate many or any cues from fetish wear nor am I looking for leads in that industry. After the three girls and one guy from my course had spent fifteen minutes already between just two stands looking in details at the design and fabric bonding of pvc wear and discussing with the business owner, I allowed myself to wander a little further, keeping at least some of the group or one of the two stands roughly in sight. I browsed some more of the weird and wonderful stalls and tried to get a feel for what's happening and where the hot or interesting stands and mini shows would be as the hall filled up.
***
This was how come I wandered onto a raised stand which seemed to be one of the largest I had seen so far and four times the size of many of what I took to be the standard size units. There were a number of staff still unpacking and laying out goods of every colour, size and shape but by and large the stand already seemed to me to be largely complete. There were displays of vibrators and dildos, rails of brightly coloured uniforms and skimpy clothing, separated for male and female, a whole area containing only black leather wear with silver zips and chrome rings and buckles, a similar area with shiny pvc suits of bright dayglo colours as well as black and various mannequins not only standing but hanging off displays and equipment in quite the oddest and most contorted poses.
On raised pedestals there were two empty stainless steel cages and I could see a man and woman hanging up a huge gold coloured cage like an oversized old fashioned cage for a parrot. They had a big curved golden pole with a pulley affair on the end from which the birdcage would be suspended about two meters or more above the ground. It was fairly clear that the prized pets to be exhibited would be human, probably scantily clad men or women in lingerie or posing pouches. I found myself hoping that once the exhibition was thronging later in the day, they might demonstrate this cage. I briefly imagined how it would be to stand and look at a helpless caged woman. Or man. Or... even to be locked in there, on display to everyone.
I shook my head and looked around for something else to take my attention.
On the other side of the stand was a large stainless steel structure. I think that when I had seen it earlier, I had subconsciously disregarded it as simply a weights and exercise machine for a gym. And as I looked more closely I still found that to be my best guess. Although...what would a multi gym be doing here? I pondered this as I worked my way slowly across the stand, between displays and open half empty cardboard boxes of goods. As I shimmied through the tight route I was lifting and examining frilly skirts and vicious looking ridding crops on my way. I could see a network of stainless steel bars with adjustable and moveable fittings, a Leatherette bench and some steel cables which presumably attached to weights. Reflecting on it, people in this industry had more reason than most to keep in shape and it stood to reason that dancers, performers and, well, "participants" in the adult industry would probably be interested in home gym equipment.
As I reached the machine I still couldn't quite get my head around what it was for or how it worked. These multi gyms often have a few different and quite distinct functions built in and it was also the case that perhaps it was not yet fully or properly put together. I put my hand on some of the cool metal bars and tentatively pulled on parts that appeared to be hinged or on slides. I could see locking rings which could be loosened to allow adjustment or movement of different pieces. Just then I heard my name called from across the stand.
"Jennifer! We thought you'd abandoned us already," laughed Ellie.
"Oh... no. No I was just... browsing," I answered, unsure why I suddenly felt embarrassed
I looked away to hide the blush I could feel blooming in my cheeks.
"Are you ok hon? Are you overcome already?"
"No... no I was..."
I reached out and touched the bars in front of me for something to do and distract from my unaccountable discomfort.
"I was looking at this multi gym thing. Trying to work out how it works."
I tried to sound calm and interested and spoke more loudly than I intended.
"It's not a multi gym sweetie," said a man I didn't know, hauling himself up onto the stand from the exhibition floor at a point were there were no steps.
"Here, let we show you. Its a lot more interesting than a weights machine, sweetie."
The man was in his late forties or early fifties, graying, medium to small build in gray jeans and a black tee bearing the same symbol on the chest as was displayed all over the stand.
Without further introduction and hesitation he gently took my hips in his two hands and guided me forward a couple of steps and then turned me through ninety degrees so that I was standing under the highest part of the machine. He was smiling quite pleasantly into my face.
"It's quite simple. Just stand here like this and then reach up and take hold of this bar... there you go."
He carefully took each of my wrists in his hands and lifted them to a bar a little above my head. I took hold of the bar at the two points where there were black leather padded hand holds with some sort of steel and fabric hanging down. Swiftly and without another word or hesitation he pressed something around my wrists which he had been holding. I could see that they were cuffs of black leather attached to the bar by two large steel links and secured around my wrists with Velcro.
It was all happening inside a few seconds and he was so friendly and reassuring that I just didn't think to resist. After all, he was demonstrating and I had been intrigued to understand what it was.
"Now we just bring these over here to hold you safely in place..."
He pulled a sort of net of leather straps and fabric over my hands, around the bar and secured each one quite tightly to the other side of the cuffs so that my hands were secured to the bar, gripping the hand holds which I now could not release.
"Hey, no, wait a minute, don't... don't," I said in what, with hindsight, was a surprisingly calm voice.
"Sshh! Don't worry, sweetie. I'm only showing you. No need to panic."
The man laughed gently, sounding quite reassuring despite my predicament.
I wasn't really panicking. This was a large commercial exhibition hall full of hundreds of people and my friends were right there behind me. I mustn't humiliate myself by over reacting or panicking here. I needed to enter into the spirit of the thing and this was my chance to show what a cool confident woman I am. And not an uptight suburban housewife as I knew that my classmates often characterised me. I am 29, making me five or six years older the oldest of the group. I am divorced and have no children but they liked to refer to me as if I was pursuing a hobby while running a house life a 1970s sitcom. No, horrendous as this situation may be, I need to stay calm and laugh with my friends.
"I see. Yes. A lot more interesting than a multi gym!!" I said with a laugh in my voice
"I feel quite helpless!"
"Hey, lets see. Are you really tied there? Can you not free yourself?" asked Ellie, raising her voice so as to include Gerri, Chris and whoever else was with her, and now behind me where I couldn't see them.
"As she says, she is quite helpless," laughed the man. "Come and see."
The man stepped aside and guided my friends around to stand in front of me and see my tethered hands as I stood with my arms above my head.
Keen to maintain the lead here and not become the butt of the joke, or the exhibit to be laughed at, I adopted my coolest inquisitive voice as if buying a refrigerator in a department store.
"So, what are all the other bars and bits for? Do I get to sit down on the bench part?" I peered at a currently vertical black leatherette padded panel.
"Ah, well, that's the magic of discipliner!" he giggled. "First of all we can lift you up a bit here..." and with some clanking my hands were pulled higher up in the air.
"And then we can bend you over to touch your toes," and with a swish of steel cogs the bar to which my hands were clamped swung around to my ankles whilst a bar remained firmly in place at my waist.
"Heyyy.... no! Don't do that. Heyyy!! OoooOO!"
My friends giggled and gasped as I was now standing with my ass in the air, touching my toes.
"We have lots of tricks up our sleeve here," said my tormentor as he began loosening some screws and moving another lever.
Helplessly, I found my arms raised to a point where I was holding them up and forward to about the level of my face. He slid the leather pad across in front of me and rotated it and before I could work out what was about to happen, I found myself brought down so that I was effectively lying across the bench, bent at the waist and pulled forward by my hands. Almost immediately short poles wrapped in padding pressed between my knees and were ratcheted out to spread my legs wide apart.
"As you can see, this could be a most useful position, providing perfect access to all openings!" the sales man announced to my giggling and fixated friends.
The man ran hand up my thigh and across my jean clad bottom before moving to my head which he lifted, uninvited, by the chin. To my horror he placed his crotch in front of my face and simulated thrusting a cock into my mouth.
