Getting Experience

"The whole weekend?" I ask Mr. Smith. Clarification is crucial because my dad would probably be suspicious of any job that makes me miss church on Sunday--at least while I'm still living under their roof.

"Just Friday through Saturday. We'll share a room at the mansion, and I'll drive you back home in time for dinner." His hands softly caress my outer thigh. My legs are resting in his lap while we cuddle on his office couch at the end of another fun day on the job.

We haven't focused as much on his business-type work in a while and I haven't brought it up. He keeps surprising me with more companion duties. We've had sex every day for the last two weeks, ever since he had me for the first time in his bed after coffee--my very first time. The next day he took me again and along with my twin sister! I'm starting to wonder if there's anything else I won't do for him. I can say "No" two more times or I'll be let go.

Now he wants me to go away with him to a dinner party with his friends to perform a "Party Service." I remember that from the contract--providing my body as a surface and service to his friends during a dinner party. I didn't realize it would be for so long.

"Can you tell me more details? I have so many questions," I admit, curious and eager to participate but still not entirely understanding the concept.

He tells me it's easier to understand when you see it. He promises to sign me up for an easy task and let me see the rest of the girls, the servers, in their positions before he blindfolds me and places me among them.

"Blindfold?!"

"Oh, yes!" He grips my bare ass under my miniskirt and holds me closer to his strong body. "It helps so you stay in character and not react to what or who you see around you--so you can stay...inanimate."

My pussy lips tingle when his fingertips graze my sensitive inner thigh. "And how many of your friends?" I melt in his lap, making a puddle on his couch.

"There will be six of us there," he says as his hand slides along my slippery slit.

"Six!" I breathe closing my eyes. I imagine six cocks around me and realize I have three holes. "Will you all have sex with me? That seems like a lot." I look him in the eye as his finger enters my already used pussy.

"No, I don't think so. Not all of us." He presses my clit and I agree to accompany him tomorrow before planting a kiss on his mouth as he brings me to orgasm.

----

On the two-hour car ride to the mansion, Mr. Smith keeps his hand on my inner thigh, barely touching my bald pussy. He insisted on getting me waxed this morning before we left and he hasn't been able to keep his hands away ever since. Something about my role tonight required no body hair so the technician who came to his house set fire to my pussy, anus, and legs.

At stoplights he tells me to lift my skirt and rolls down my tinted window. The chance that a stranger might peep into the car and see my bare pussy excites me. He delights in my lackluster protests combined with nervousness laughter. His car seat is definitely going to have a stain on it.

Just before reaching the highway entrance a semi stops next to us at the light. Mr. Smith tells me to make eye contact with the driver and touch myself.

"I can't do that, Sir!" I exclaim but I don't make a move to put my skirt back down.

He looks at me and narrows his eyes, "Is that a 'no' I hear coming from you young lady?"

His stern tone snaps my fingers to my clit and I look up at the driver who is fixed on the light. I nearly fall out of the window when Mr. Smith honks his horn. He plays mad at the light for the driver and looks away.

The driver's attention is caught and I mark circles with my fingers while biting my bottom lip. His eyes enlarge as he stares at me masturbating my smooth pussy. The sun's reflection hits my eyes from his phone. He must be taking pictures or recording me.

I jam two fingers into my sopping pussy and buck in my seat. Electricity shoots through me in waves and I feel the car thrust forward. A chorus of horns sounds behind us and I see the semi still at the light in the side mirror.

"Good girl. Suck your fingers clean now." I obey and he pets my wet pussy the rest of the way.

When we get stuck in traffic, he has me give him a blow job. It's tricky with the steering wheel, but I manage to swallow his entire load before we start moving again.

We arrive at the mansion in the late afternoon. Mr. Smith walks me through the high-ceiling-foyer of the mansion where tonight's dinner party is being held. After we get settled in our room, it's almost evening and the sun is setting over the view of the mountains from the living room.

There are a handful of naked women posing as furniture in an elaborate sitting room with a piano, walls of bookcases, and a fireplace. There's a foot stool on hands and knees before a high-backed chair. Her breasts dangle heavily between her steady arms. And her ass is lusciously round even without arching her back--she probably needs to have a straight spine to hold up someone's feet tonight.

Next to her, a body beneath a slab of glass lays face up on a short coffee table providing a surface for cups and ash trays. Her nipples, areola, and breasts spread like pressed flowers and her bush is flattened against the glass. Nose, lips, and forehead daintily hold the sheet of glass level.

A trio standing back to back with raised arms reaching out as a coat rack by the door are being manipulated by a stern looking woman in a maid's uniform. None of them are blindfolded yet and all seem to know Mr. Smith by the way their eyes twinkle when we walk by. Nobody speaks except for the clothed woman.

We enter a bathroom just off the human furniture sitting room. The walls and floors are white marble. It's massive with all-glass multi-stalled showers and a jetted tub that could fit at least three people. On the other side is a line of four urinals between each sits a naked woman on her feet, hands behind her back. These women have their blindfolds already.

Instead of telling me about this room, Mr. Smith ushers me in front of the closest human urinal and cozies up behind me. He lifts my tight skirt over my my ass up on my hips, exposing my bare pussy to this blindfolded woman.

I gasp when I feel his semi-hard penis slip between my legs. Resting between my parted lips, I can see his cock head poking out as if I have the tiniest dick in the world. Giggling, I grab hold.

Before I can aim, he says, "That was a long drive," and lets loose a stream of clear piss hitting her bare breasts, splashing back onto me. "Quick. Try for her mouth," Mr. Smith instructs. I didn't realize she'd opened her mouth, but I get his last few squirts right on target and she swallows as soon as he stops. She doesn't move, speak, or grimace sitting all wet in a puddle of his piss--that same piss sliding warm into her belly.

It's an exhilarating feeling to essentially pee on someone using Mr. Smith's cock. Someone willing and who just let me do whatever I pleased. No wonder Mr. Smith likes it so much when I follow his orders and submit. And I am grateful Mr. Smith didn't sign me up for this task!

I wonder what exactly I am doing tonight if I wasn't furniture or a urinal.

My questions are answered in the next room--the dining room. "This is where you will be," Mr. Smith informs me. Apparently, I am special and will be the only server in this room. My role is to be the platter for their dinner and dessert.

"We'll be eating various foods off of you. Between the three different courses you'll be wiped clean with warm cloths." The thought of a bunch of men touching me, licking me, maybe poking me with forks while I am blindfolded makes my clit quiver.

He slowly unbuttons my dress for me--starting between my breasts.

"It's imperative that you remain still and quiet, so you don't disturb our meal. If you do break character, don't worry, just do your best." He reaches the last button just below my pussy and swipes his hand along my moist crevice before brushing the dress off my shoulders. I stand in front of him in the empty room while he drinks in my naked form. Gesturing toward the gleaming dark wood table with one hand, he pulls a black silk blindfold from his back pocket with the other.

"How do I know when I can talk and move again, Sir?" I ask hopping onto the clean, cool surface. I hold my knees to my chest.

His smile is crooked and his eyes narrow. "After you are cleaned, we'll leave you in the tub to soak back in the bathroom I showed you. When we leave the room, you can remove your blindfold and move and behave as you normally would. And when you're ready, you can join me in our room."

My stomach is flip-flopping like a giant moth is crash landing against my insides. Mr. Smith strokes my face softly and kisses me with closed lips.

"You're going to be great. You're such a good girl and everyone will love you." I bite my lip as he carefully tightens the blindfold around my head. His hand holds mine and I untuck my knees. He lays me down on my back and places a small pillow beneath the base of my head. My body begins to shake as adrenaline courses through me from head to toe.

I sit up and rush to remove my blindfold, but Mr. Smith stops me holding my wrists in his hand. He hugs me and offers me something that will calm me down. I nod in agreement, then ask, "What is it?"

His only answer is, "Open up." I feel a cup against my lips and water rushes into my mouth. I gulp down quickly as he pours it all down my throat a bit quickly. I cough a little and ease my way back into a laying position.

"Good girl." He positions my arms away from my body at 45 degree angles and spreads my ankles apart as wide as the table.

The next sound is the door closing behind him. I lay naked and exposed--my nipples as crisp as the air around me and a puddle already forming under my pussy.

I think I'm alone until I feel the warm cloths Mr. Smith told me about. It's soothing and sensual as they run heat and softness over my cold skin--being sure to pay extra care to my sopping pussy.

After a brief moment to dry, cool textures are laid on my stomach, breasts, chest, and thighs. Metal and glass clinking against the table followed by the sound of liquid filling vessels around the table are the only sounds going on around me.

The doors open again, pouring boisterous laughs of male voices into the room sending goosebumps across my food-covered landscape. Innuendos and unveiled comments about how delicious I look are repeated with only slight variations among the group. Mr. Smith thanks the men for all the compliments he gets on his new addition to the party ware.

The chairs shuffle as the men find their seats. I determinedly breathe slowly and silently. I will be the best platter they've ever seen.

There is no hesitation from the men. A piece of food is removed from my stomach and slurped into someone's mouth. Another is eaten directly off my breast by a different mouth on the other side of the table. The one who took the first bite licks at my bare stomach where his morsel had been moments ago.

Conversation turns to the taste of the food and my flesh as hands grab my thighs, a tongue digs into my navel, and teeth graze my nipples. Someone asks for extra sauce and I feel something warm oozing down my mound water-falling over the hood of my clit. Before the drip can make it to my opening, a tongue and mouth seize my entire pussy and lap at me like I am an ice cream sandwich about to drip on the hot cement.

I feel an orgasm building but it doesn't release. I'm surprised at how still I'm able to be. I'm not trying to move but I have a feeling that I couldn't even if I wanted to. And every touch they give me feels amplified. I wish they'd all be lick me at once--everywhere.

My fantasy is realized in sensation only when those warm cloths come wiping off the first course. Every inch of me is steaming hot under the cloths and quickly cooled by the chill air against damp skin.

The second course is warm. I can smell meat and feel stinging hot fat sizzle down my sides as strips of steak are laid over my belly. Warm, buttery smelling mashed potatoes are spread over my breasts and delicate rolls are balanced on my thighs. More meat is draped over my throat and additional potatoes are smeared onto my belly.

When service is complete with a full-body drizzle of warm gravy, glasses clink in cheers as the smell of whiskey overpowers the hot meat. Then teeth. They chew on my naked skin and poke me with forks after grabbing the meat off. they gnaw and slobber on my ribs, as if the juices are coming from me and not the dead animal they just removed from that spot.

It's ticklish and slightly painful sometimes. I can feel that my body wants to jerk and react to the poking and nibbling, but I am a perfectly still platter. Whatever Mr. Smith gave me really made me feel comfortable, horny,...and immobilized.

"Hey, we're missing some vegetables here," someone near my legs shouts. "Get me a nice big cucumber would you?" Moments later there is pressure at my pussy entrance. There is no care taken in shoving this phallic vegetable into my body. It goes in easily because I'm so turned on but it feels so stiff, cold, and unyielding. My body has to work harder to accommodate this than it does Mr. Smith's cock. If he doesn't stop shoving this thing inside me soon I think it might poke out of my belly!

The cucumber is left inside me, untouched while they finish their main course. Every lap of a tongue ridding my surface of the mashed potatoes and gravy sends me to the edge. I can feel my clit pounding with every beat of my heart. I wish someone would touch my clit so I can cum already. Every sensation brought on by their devouring of me sends electricity through my system.

It's almost too much until I feel that warm cloth run over me again. The cucumber is removed swiftly and fingers enter my pussy, pumping in and out roughly before leaving me vacant again.

For the third course, dessert, luscious smelling chocolate is drizzled haphazardly all over me. I can imagine that I'm nearly drenched in chocolate sauce. Next, I hear the unmistakable rush of whipped cream bursting from canisters as I feel the tickle of a spiral being sprayed from my nipple to my armpits, a triable over my pussy, and I'm basically given whipped cream socks over my feet.

My mouth is manipulated open and the cream is sprayed directly inside. I try to jerk away but I can't move at all. My body wants to panic but I just lay there and put all my concentration on not swallowing, or breathing, this sweet goodness in my mouth.

It's a frenzy when dessert is ready. All tongues, all over me. Someone by my head dips his tongue in my mouth and pulls out some cream. He laps at me like a kitten until it is all gone and he's just licking my tongue, teeth, and lips before moving on to lick the rest of my face.

My nipples are bitten and sucked on hard before all the cream is even gone. I feel my vocal cords protest, but no sounds come out. The man by my toes is sucking so hard on my big toe I hope he moves onto my clit soon. He digs between my toes with his pointed tongue and I'm almost there again. The man at my crotch is just teasing me, flicking my clit lightly with the tip of his tongue.

When all of the sweets are replaced by the saliva of these six men they exit the room, complementing themselves on a well cleaned platter. The door closes behind them and I feel the familiar warm cloths wiping away anything they may have missed.

I'm not sure how much time passes as I lay there, relaxed and horny. I wonder when I'll get to take that bath. My mind is spinning, and I'm so turned on and ready to cum I can barely think straight. When I hear the doors open again, Mr. Smith says, "Fine, have your second dessert. But be quick about it."

The doors close, and I hear clothing shuffle. Hands are on my breasts as he hoists himself up onto the table with me.

He lays directly on top of me, his whole-body weight crushing me against the wood supporting us. His hard cock is giving my clit just the right pressure I need to cum. He wiggles around and shoves his tongue in my mouth. My body shakes uncontrollably, and I feel myself get wet and slick for his cock as my orgasm finally rips through me. I'm floating on waves of ecstasy when he growls and grunts in my ear, "I love it when they don't move." His voice is a hoarse whisper that I don't remember hearing at dinner.

My mind is whirling more than before and I feel like maybe I am slipping in and out of consciousness after that climax. His cock is inside me before I know it and he humps me quickly but not hard--his prick doesn't penetrate very deeply. I can feel his wide head going in and out of my pussy entrance keeping me stretched and full of pressure.

He mutters against my lips, "--perfect breasts." His tongue jabs at my mouth. "...like my daughters. Oh, fuck." Thrusting to the hilt three times he penetrates me deeply before puling out. He grunts as I silently feel his jizz land on my belly, my pelvis, and finally my clit. He circles his head around my clit, smearing his baby juice all over my vulva. He even pokes in a few more times as he deflates. His panting is feverish as he makes his way off the table. Before he leaves, he scoops some of his cum from my belly and puts his sticky fingers in my mouth, making sure to rub his semen over my tongue so I can taste how salty and musky it is. I gag at his taste and touch.

The door opens and Mr. Smith announces, "Looks like it's time to clean the filthy platter!" Their feet shuffle about and I feel hands all over me--arms, ass, legs, back, head. I'm lifted from the table and carried by all of them out of the dining room like a hog ready for the fire. I'm carefully placed on a freezing cold floor, and I know it's the bathroom because of the overwhelming smell of urine.

"We better clean her crevices first, don't you think?" one man suggests. The men murmur in agreement and unzip their flies. Clothing shuffles close to my face and I feel my mouth being opened. A warm, hard cock rests on my tongue and hangs out the corner of my mouth. The flood of urine is overwhelming as I involuntarily sputter and choke on the salty, bitter liquid.

To my delight the men laugh. That means they aren't disappointed, so I'm glad to know that I didn't screw up. While I regain my platter-perfect breathing, I feel another cock inserted into my pussy. But this time the prick doesn't fuck me. Instead, I feel a faint pressure and tingling as my abdomen warms slowly and urges my own bladder to open up.

I'm not sure what the rule is about platters and urinating, but I can't really help it. I pee all over his cock while my womb fills with his piss.

"Check it out guys! This thing has a water feature." They laugh at his joke. When he talks about me like I'm a thing I feel both offended and turned on. Why does it make me feel so sexy to be used like this? I must be a pervert like them.

They moan and groan and probably wank their cocks staring at me with a cock up my cooter. Mr. Smith gathers the men around me. "Circle up gents. Let's give my new platter a good cleaning now."

Moans of relief fill my ears as I'm showered in warm, pungent pee from four different directions. The streams splatter over my soft belly, firm tits, and long hair. My mouth opens in surprise when one gets my face. I close it immediately but then he aims for my nose, and I can't breathe. I leave it open and successfully guzzle down his sour fluid as fast as I can.

When they have nothing left in them, one of them says, "Alright. I guess we can put her in the wash now."

They all pick me up again and set me in what must be the tub. The surface is hard and slick, and running water warms over my feet. When they close the door, I'm glad my arm obeys when I move to take off my blindfold. Slowly and groggily, I look around.