Control in a Coat Closet

When you invited me to this "little party," I expected an intimate gathering with a handful of friends. Maybe some wine and a store bought tray of crackers and cured meat, with an exchanging of pleasantries. I didn't expect a suburban estate brimming with Chicago's elite. Anybody who was anybody mingled among the glitz and glamour, all dressed impeccably. They were clearly here to see and be seen. I felt underwhelming in my off-brand little black dress and scuffed Mary Janes.

"Who even are you?" I leaned in, trying to be inconspicuous with my words.

"They're just work friends, Baby." You shot me an amused grin.

I knew you were a named partner at a top Chicago firm, but l'd clearly underestimated the definition of top. I never dreamed I'd see a national anchorman, the mayor of Chicago, and a notorious local crime boss laughing over Veuve Clicquot and antipasto.

"Are these clients?" I asked, trying unsuccessfully to mask my disbelief.

"You know I can't break attorney-client privilege, Baby. But there are some very important people here. We need to make our appearance, then I can get you home and out of those heels."

I leaned into your shoulder in gratitude, giving your fingers a gentle squeeze before taking in the room. It even smelled of Old Money. Clean, but in a subtle way. No fragrance was too overwhelming. The scent of wood, leather, food, spirits, and luxury colognes mingled pleasantly. I shifted in my heels and tried to take on a more confident posture, but only felt sillier. This wasn't my scene. I didn't know how to mingle with this crowd, but I plastered on a smile and vowed to do my best.

"So, which one is the host?"

"See the man over there?" You pointed with your eyes towards a group of men admiring a gaudy oil painting of horses, above the fireplace. "He's the one in the plaid jacket. An author."

"Do I know his work?"

"You most definitely do. I'll have to introduce you later. But if you don't mind, I'd like to have a look around. Join me?"

You held out your arm, my fingers lacing around it as we headed towards the elaborate marble hallway. We walked this way, comfortably intertwined, through the crowds of people. You pointed out your favorite pieces of art and furniture, occasionally stopping to exchange pleasantries with a familiar face. I wondered what kind of lives these people lead, and how you knew them. How many were clients? Were you only helping them with their contracts and their books? What kind of scandals were quietly settled by your firm? These were big money people, the kind of people who could get away with anything, with enough checks exchanged for silence.

Eventually, the faces started to thin out and we found ourselves in a quieter corner of the home, with a grand winding staircase.

"Dare we see what's upstairs?" You whispered in my ear, your breath teasing my neck.

"I doubt we're supposed to" I said hesitantly, turning to head back towards the laughter and music.

Your hand grasped mine and spun me gently back towards you. "Come on, it'll be fun. This place is huge. We won't be missed. I just want a peek. If we get caught, we can say we got lost."

I quietly hoped that you were right and followed you up the stairs. They felt massive in my thin heels, and the lofted ceilings meant far more steps than the average staircase. I marveled in disbelief at the perfection of the wood railing. There wasn't a single scuff or scrape, the wood polish still glistening in the soft light of the chandelier. If this staircase was used often, they surely never touched the railing.

The upper level was just as immaculate, the walls lined in antique-finished wallpaper and more art. It was eclectic, yet refined. I wondered how many generations of belongings lined this one hall. Some of the art was quite old, while other pieces were obviously modern additions to a collection. It was stunning.

As I was admiring an oil painting of a woman in green lace, her eyes a soft yet confident blue, I heard the click of a door. "Shall we see what's inside?" you asked, with a hint of adventure in your typically serious voice.

"We really shouldn't be invading his privacy like this."

"Come on. Just a peek."

As I walked into the room, I was happy to see it appeared to be a storage space. Furniture that didn't quite match was lazily arranged. Art leaned against the wall in a haphazard collection, rather than being perfectly hung. A stack of papers and open envelopes balanced on a simple barstool in a dusty corner.

"Well, this is interesting but we really aught to-..."

"No. There's just one more thing I want to do."

Before I could think what you might mean, your hand pinned me to the wall by my throat, your lips colliding against mine. They felt hot and hungry as your hands graced and groped my curves, stopping momentarily to pinch my hardening nipples through the thin fabric of my dress.

You withdrew your lips, returning your strong hand to my throat. Your eyes glared into mine with a fierce but playful countenance. "Be a good girl and take off that dress. Then join me in the closet. Oh. And keep the heels."

I moaned in excited disbelief at the proposition. I wanted to protest, but you'd already made your way to the large closet, closing the door behind you.

The air was cold and unfamiliar as I disrobed, but there was also an electricity bubbling around me. You'd always had a playful streak, but public play was a boundary we hadn't pushed. I said a little prayer that nobody else at the party would want a break from the crowd, and turned the brass knob of the heavy wooden door.

You were still fully clothed, to my surprise, but you'd managed to find a dark red leather belt in the time it took me to undress.

"Hands up here, by the hangers." You were firm, pointing to the spot you wanted me to stand.

Doing as I was told, I placed both hands near the bar of the closet. You were swift to lace the belt around my wrists, locking me to the bar with a leather figure-eight.

"Spread your legs. Daddy is going to make you cum. Then we can get back to the people." Your voice sent goosebumps up my spine, and I couldn't stop the heat from surging between my thighs.

"Yes, Sir." I opened my legs wider, pressing my backside out for your taking.

"Goood girl" you coaxed, tracing your thumb from my temple to my lips.

"Suck it."

I wrapped my lips around your finger, giving it a quick lick before taking it deeper.

"God, Daddy is going to enjoy this," you teased, your free hand brushing a few loose strands of hair behind my ear.

With your thumb still down my throat, your other hand quickly found its way down my stomach and to my most sensitive spot.

"My god, you're already wet. What a good little slut. You know that's all mine, right? I was going to get you all warmed up, but..."

Three fingers finished your sentence by violently invading my wetness. Before I had time to stifle my moan, a fourth joined in the delightful assault. You had me completely stretched and aching. I loved it.

"That's my girl." Your pace quickened and I could feel the heat of my nectar pooling at my upper thighs. Your fingers found the inner spot that drives me wild, sending wave after wave of pleasure through my core. Just as I thought I couldn't take any more, your other hand left my mouth and reached between my legs, gently teasing my clit. The soft sensation paired with your rough fingers in my pussy drove me insane. I wanted more, subconsciously grinding against your hand.

"In time, Baby. In time. I want you to work for it."

Your pace quickened a touch, but I still needed more. "Please, Daddy!" was all I could muster through the elation and frustration.

"I know, Baby. You'll get what you want. I promise." Your fingers continued their ecstatic torture for what felt like hours. You alternated between slow, teasing strokes and powerful thrusts, sometimes stopping entirely as I begged for more. I was going mad with lust.

"Fuck, Daddy! I need to cum. Please!?"

"I guess you have been a good girl." Your pace quickened inside of me as two fingers rubbed firmer circles around my clit. Each stroke matched your tugs on my g-spot. I was in heaven, and you knew it.

"Is my girl getting close?"

I choked out an "mmhmm" and tried to hold it off, but your touch was too overwhelming. I was already over the edge.

"It's okay. Cum for me."

The release was beautifully violent as your hands sent fire and ice through every nerve. My walls throbbed around your thick fingers, each contraction more pleasurable than the last. You kept your rhythm until the sensations subsided, and the removal of your fingers left a feeling of emptiness inside of me.

"Good girl. Now, let's get you dressed. But I have one more demand."

I strained my neck to glance behind me, just in time to see you pull a large red egg out of your pocket. A small remote was in the other hand.

"You're going to wear this for me. We're going to go back to the party, and I want you to meet my friends. I know it'll be hard, Baby Girl, but try not to make a scene." You slid the egg into my still aching wetness and undid the belt from my wrists, leaning down to toss me my now wrinkled dress.

You grinned and pressed the button. The egg began to buzz. I jumped at the sensation of warmth spreading back into my most sensitive parts. I tried to cross my legs and shift my weight, but there was no escaping the erotic vibrations. Your toy rested perfectly on my g-spot.

Your hand found my throat once more as you peered into my eyes, your face so close that your salt and pepper beard teased my lips. "One more thing, Baby Girl. This time, you don't cum until I say so."