Mindfuck

The snap of the metal nib into the slot of the garter belt, the adjustment of my stockings so that my ass and cuntlips are so very much on display, so that the wind can hit them just as He snakes His hand under my skirt is a luxury one either gets or doesn't. Either you see it as an encumbrance and an annoyance, or you see it for the frame that it is for my most vulnerable spots. To offer them as a gift to my lover excites me. I like the ritual of dressing, imagining what will turn Him on when I know quite well that these - the heels, the collar, the lace bra, the stockings, the earrings - will please Him just as my wearing nothing would please Him. He did not tell me what to wear. He no longer needs to.

Of course long before I chose any of this, I waxed myself, the pain only another reminder of my desire to please Him. I've always been amused by the exaggeration of how it feels to wax oneself. I choose waxes that are gentle, effective and aromatic with cinnamon or vanilla. The warmth of it on my skin reminds me of the candle wax He dripped on me when I was little more than a girl. The possibility of damage, the trust it took to allow it, again my aching vulnerability rewarded with sensual delights that scarred me much more deliciously than any mere sexual encounter could have.

He promised me a night like no other and from Him that was no small matter. I have never known anyone whose perversity complemented mine so well. I have been driven to madness by Him, horizontally and vertically. Both my brain and my body used and opened like a delicious orange for Him to devour, each new segment bursting and dripping for Him alone. For days after our encounters, I feel the battering of His hand in my cunt. I walk with a silent ecstasy through the halls of my workplace knowing how that pulsing painpleasure got there and I know without a doubt that nobody in that building or within miles of it has ever been fucked so completely. Brushing my hair, I feel His hand expertly pulling my head toward His cock so that He may use me, make me cough out my lust and ruin the pretty makeup I have applied just for Him. The bruise left on my ass in the shape of His hand – my reminder of how close we walk to the edge and a promise, like the rainbow, that it will never happen again.

He had dispatched a car to pick me up at my hotel. When the driver called my room, I walked through the lobby noticing the families and couples staring at my disgracefully high heels, my shamelessly red lips and my collar. Though many clearly disapproved, there were more than a few who simply stared at what they thought was a whore. I wondered what they might think if they knew I was doing this not for money, but for lust. I met their eyes, winking surreptitiously at a handsome father who I am sure gave his soccer mom wife a time that night. I like that, stirring lust, even if I am not on the receiving end. Just a little sexual bodhisattva. My gift to them. . .

The driver was waiting by the door. I tried to make eye contact, but he refused, though I did see him staring at my legs, the seam of my stocking fixing him to the spot. Ever the professional, he only slightly adjusted the crotch of his trousers as he closed the door. I settled in for what I thought would be a long ride to the country. I had heard of houses where parties began on Friday and did not end until the last guest left, but I could not imagine how to get myself invited. When He suggested I gain my freedom for a weekend, I dared not hope it could be such an arrangement. A few minutes into the ride, I realized we were not leaving the city, but heading to another high-rise hotel. Fine, I thought, I like hotels. And though I desperately wanted to run a finger around my slickening lips, I knew He would inspect me for such unapproved explorations. Rather than encourage His wrath, I wanted to prove my devotion to Him. I waited and felt my upper thighs grow slick and warm with my own anticipation. My clitoris pulsed, but like His good girl, I waited.

We pulled up to the lobby and the driver opened my door. "You are to wait in the lobby, whore." I was shocked as much as by the sound of his voice as by his choice of word. What right had he? Every right, I remembered. A night like no other, His voice echoed in my memory. I took a seat at the bar and before I could order, a vodka tonic was set before me.

"From the gentlemen in the corner," said the predictably blonde bartender. I turned to see my benefactors when I realized this was just the beginning. I quickly counted four of them. I smiled in acknowledgement of the gesture, but was too uncertain to approach them. What if they weren't in on the plans? What WERE the plans? Where was He? I heard His voice in my ear.

"Breathe, Samantha. Breathe."

Like so many times before, I did as He commanded and as my breath escaped, three of His fingers slid into me and His thumb made circles on my clit. I hadn't even seen His face yet, but His breath in my ear and His hand on my cunt were all I needed. I knew the length of my skirt was not enough to hide this to anyone in the bar. Then it dawned on me. Other than the bartender, there were no other women. Plenty of men, too many to take in, at least four groups, but I was certain I was the only woman there for a reason. The door of the bar had been locked and the music turned up.

"For you, my pet. Now go. For me."

And as suddenly as He came, He was gone. I burned from the emptiness, but understood it was His desire for me. I hobbled to the corner booth where the four men waited. Their faces don't matter. I couldn't recall them if I tried. But I can remember their smell, the mingled sweat and soap and peppery scent that men carry with them from their chests up. But that wasn't what I was there for. I downed my drink quickly, unceremoniously.

"Hello," I said to them for lack of anything else to say. They mumbled hellos as well, but then the youngest one told me to turn my back to the table and show them the ass they were going to fuck that night. My head reeled. Only one Man had ever done that. I wasn't sure I could do it. Two of the men took it upon themselves to lift my skirt, a small matter indeed. I could feel their calloused fingers on my flesh. They squeezed me and pulled my cheeks apart and slapped my ass as I arched my back into it. If this was His design, it must be because He trusted me to fulfill my own desires, too. He gave me permission. He made it safe to sate my inner slut. Without Him, I could not have given the men what they wanted. As the two held my ass open, a third, I think he was older, began using my cuntjuice to lubricate my anus. "You have a great ass, Samantha. He must love seeing it used like this." And with no more than that he wiggled two fingers into me. I don't know what shocked me more, that he did it so quickly or that I liked it so much. "God, girl. You're already ready. Good."

The two turned me so that I was now belly down on the table and each grabbed one of my thighs to hold me steady. I asked to get up on my knees, and to my surprise, they helped me. Fine, I thought, at least they understand it should be fun for me, too. The fourth man had found a way to position himself on the table and was now stroking his hard but smallish penis. Still, he had a certain innocence in his eyes and I figured that one good way to accept the inevitable ass fucking I was about to get was to fellate the man in front of me. I bent forward, raising my ass in the air (all the better to get to you, my dear. . I really was beginning to disassociate) while taking the cock into my mouth. He didn't go past the tight ring of my throat, but considering what was about to happen, that was fine.

I felt the older man continue massaging my asshole as at least one of the henchmen dropped a long line of spit on me. Then I was empty for only a moment when I heard the older man groan as he opened my ass with his cock. I breathed like He told me to when I felt like I couldn't take any more and it worked as it always had with Him. The man settled into a rhythm, taking his time. I realized that the cock in my mouth was beginning to pull back in pre-orgasm shaking, so I braced for his load. It came as I thought it would, too little in volume, but certainly serviceable. I held it in my mouth, tasting the sweetness of it, then smiled at him as I let it drip down my chin, my whole body thrusting with the weight of the man behind me. When one of the two men on the assist told him that the younger one had come, his rhythm increased.

"You little slut. He said you'd want it, more than one. I didn't think you'd start so fast." And with that he slapped my ass once. He turned to the men holding my legs. "Go ahead. She obviously doesn't need to be too warmed up any more. I can handle it all back here." I wasn't sure what these next two men had in mind, but I knew one of them had a soft hairy belly and the other one spent a lot of time in the gym. But the thing about bodies, if they are capable of doing what they came for, not much else matters. These two knew what they were about.

The hardbody slid under me on the table. I could not rationalize what happened next, but he bit my neck as he timed his entry into my cunt with the first man's anal rhythm. My head burst again as I realized what was going on. So full, so full so full so full. . . .Where is He? Can He see me?

"I'm right here, beautiful woman. My cumslut to give away. My fucker. Mine. MINE."

His voice was calm, but with an intensity I had not known. I reached for His cock, needed to feel it in my hands, an anchor to the familiar, but he had receded into the shadows yet again.

The softer one had replaced the small one at my head. His cock was big, curved up and uncut. I could see him pump the foreskin over his head. I made the effort to take him in my mouth, but he wanted something else. He teased me with it, struck it against my face and tongue, but he was clearly into jacking off.

"C'mon," I said, "do it. Shoot for me, Daddy. Give me your cock. Please." I pleaded, but he just smiled what was a very sexy smile and continued to watch me take it in the ass and pussy at the same time. At about that time, I felt the man in my ass begin to moan and announce his orgasm. All three men fell into his rhythm and my body couldn't hold back any longer. We came in waves; who first I could not tell, but I felt sperm hit my anus and back as he pulled out to show his prowess. I heard a collective grunting from the men who had gathered around the table to watch. I felt the man in my cunt come, his cum and mine soaking him. But it was the other man I watched now, intently. His sperm came thick and fast and coated, not me, but the face of the man below me, the one who had just come in my cunt.

"Now lick it up like a good girl." His voice had come out of nowhere. I bent my head down to do His bidding. The hardbody lay impassively letting my tongue lave the other man's sperm from his eyes and forehead.

"Open your mouth and show it to me, Samantha." I did. The dark smell of sex and cum flooded my senses as I displayed my dripping mouth to Him. "Now rub it on your cunt." Again, I did as He instructed.

"Good girl. Now, only three more tables to go, my beautiful little cocksucker."