Her Birthday

He was nervous. They had spent the day together, doing the things that she always bugged him about. First was out shopping down at the local nursery, hunting down the last bag of a certain peat moss, loading up stones for a new back patio, picking out seeds for the window boxes. After dropping them off in the garage, they went to the nail salon, where he waited, reading a magazine, as she got a manicure and pedicure, saying yes to anything they offered her. Lunch was at a sidewalk café, one of her favorites. They enjoyed a chick flick at the cinema, and he tried his best not to nod off during the long, drawn out plot, but the ending was good, so he wasn't too disappointed.

They had come home, changed clothes, and had worked on sorting out the things they had bought from the nursery. It mostly consisted of her pointing things out as he lugged the bags of soil around, stacked the stones to the side, and cleaned out each of the window boxes, because she didn't want to ruin her new nails.

But now the day was winding down, and night was growing outside. After returning to the house, she kicked him out of their bedroom. Handing him a garment bag, she shoved him away from the door.

"You get to use the guest shower." She added his toiletry bag, tossing it through the crack in the door as she closed it. Looking down at the bags in his hand, he frowned and looked back up at the closed door. Reluctantly, he shrugged and walked downstairs to the bathroom that led off the guest's room.

It wasn't a bad bathroom, but it was smaller then their shared one. Besides, she obviously had something special planned for dinner. She had mentioned something about dancing, but knowing her, that could mean almost anything. He also thought back to what happened on his birthday, six months ago. He smiled to himself as he hung up the garment bag on the door, put down his toiletries, and turned on the shower. What a night that had been. He thought about what had happened, and his smile grew wilder. As he washed, he began to get slightly concerned. She said the next day that her birthday was going to be fun, but he knew what she thought of as fun.

He got out, toweled him self dry, and went to the sink. Shaving close, he put on some cologne and then went to the garment bag. Opening it wide, he saw the solid black of a brand new tuxedo. Smiling as he pulled the suit out of the bag, piece-by-piece, something thunked lightly on the tile. Kneeling down, he picked up a small, hard rubber circle, smiling at it. He had seen them before, and had talked to her about them, but they had never actually used a cock ring before.

Colored green, it was in the shape of the 'Omega' symbol, with two hard balls almost touching each other at the ends. The point of the device was to tighten the base of his cock. This allowed blood to flow into it, but barely let enough out for circulation. It got him hard as hell, and didn't let him go down until it was taken off. The little balls pressed directly against his urethra, preventing him from climaxing too.

He swallowed hard. What had he gotten himself into? "Oh, well," he thought. "It'll be fun." He tried not to notice the hesitation in the voice in his head. Putting on the toy first, he found it to be tight, but not quite uncomfortable. He next found the underwear at the bottom of the bag, placed on a plastic bag containing dress shoes, and wrapped around dress socks. Unrolling them, he found that they were black bikini briefs, but not only that; Velcro attached the sides.

Smiling, he slid them on, and then looked at himself in the mirror. Flexing his arms, he had to admit that although he wouldn't win any awards, he looked pretty good. He didn't have much of a gut, and his arms went well with his broad shoulders.

Getting the rest of the stuff out of the bag, he put on the white tank top undershirt, then put on the dress shirt. Looking through the bag again, he put on the bow tie and the cuff links. It looked good. Socks, then pants, and then after touching up his hair, he sat and put on his shoes. They were comfortable and slick, with not a lot of fancy detail. Grabbing the jacket, he slung it over his forearm and went to the base of the stairs.

Standing at the base of the stairs, he leaned against the rail post, waiting patiently. Finally, after half an hour, he heard the bedroom door close. Looking up, he was stunned. His wife was stepping down the stairs like a model. Her blonde hair was up in a tight bun, black opera gloves came up almost to the tops of her arms, and her stiletto heels were at least four inches tall if not more. Instead of a seam, the back of her black stockings, he could see in glances, trailed paw prints up the back of her legs and thighs, almost reaching her short dress, which ended above mid-thigh. As she stepped down, he could see the tops of her stockings peek from underneath, showing the beginnings of the straps of a black garter belt.

And her dress! Oh god, he had never seen it before, and, as he watched her, his pants immediately became tight. He could feel the ring pressing around him, and his manhood throbbed at every heartbeat, matched by her steps as she descended. The black dress came off her shoulders, running down over her ample breasts, and 'V'ed down her flat stomach, coming to a point that highlighted her little belly button. Within the 'V', both sides were connected at a few points with silk strings, giving it the look of an old fashioned bustier. As low as it went, it was obvious that she had to shave completely to wear that dress, and not just her legs. Her small purse was on a spaghetti strap, and did nothing to hide her cleavage as it hung off her shoulder to rest by her hip.

As she came to the last step, he held out his hand to help her. Smiling, his grin was shot down cold as she gave him an evil look. Walking straight up to him, nose to nose, she glared at him. Without saying a word, her hand whipped out and slapped across his cheek. His own hand immediately reached for his aching face, his eyes staring at her in more surprise then in pain. The hit wasn't hard, but it wasn't expected either. Her eyes still drilled holes into his own, and he slowly lowered his hand back to his side.

"You know the rules," she said in a hard but quiet tone. "Tonight, you are mine. You will do what I want, when I want it, and nothing more. If I catch you leering..." (She stretched the word in an exaggerated way and with a completely false sense of disgust) "...at me again, then there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

He looked at her, slowly nodding as his mind caught up. As he stared into her eyes, he could see the lie behind it. She had liked his reaction to her appearance, no matter what she said. This was a matter of control, and it was her birthday, so tonight, it was all hers.

She looked down at his pants, the crotch of which was now sticking out a good distance, straining the material. Roughly, she grabbed at the bulge and pulled, disregarding his grunt of surprise, maneuvering him over to the stairs. When he was a couple of steps above her, she looked up at him.

"Do you want me to help you with this?" she asked in a sickly sweet voice. He nodded again, and obeyed her when she told him, "Well then, put your hands behind your back. Slowly, she unbuckled, unbuttoned, and unzipped his pants, then pulled gently on his skimpy underwear. His cock stood at attention, rock hard and pointing straight. She grasped it gently with her right hand, holding onto his pants with the left.

Bending over, she brought her lips down, almost touching the head. He felt her warm breath as she hovered there, and it took a lot of will power to hold himself back from grabbing her hair, thrusting forward, something. "God," he thought, "her breath was hot." It drove him absolutely nuts.

With a quick set of movements, she pulled up his underwear, snapping the waistband onto his shaft, then buckled and zipped his pants over it also, making sure that his shirt was tucked in properly over it. As it was sandwiched between himself and his waistband, his dick wasn't noticeable, just a natural, irrelevant bump that could be hidden by just the normal draping of his clothes. He stiffened slightly, frustrated at the refusal of sexual favors, but he knew the night was young, and he was willing to wait.

Getting a few steps ahead of him, she went straight out the front door, him trailing behind as he hurriedly locked it and jogged to catch up. Sitting in the street, parked at the curb, sat a glossy black, stretched limo. Next to the rear door, holding it open, was a smartly dressed young man, standing stiffly and quietly, waiting for the couple.

She gave him a quick nod as she stepped into the vehicle, and he left the door to jog back to the driver's side. As the driver entered, her husband reached the still open door. The car started and had already begun to move as he shut the door behind him.

"Don't lag behind," she said, in a cold, contracted voice. She didn't even look at him, but instead stared intently at the world as it went by.

The limousine traveled down the road, slowly making its way through the busy night traffic. He was sitting, facing the rear of the car, and watching her as she sat across from him. She ignored him, staring intently out the window. He took fleeting looks at her body and the way her dressed accentuated it. The way her legs were crossed rode the hem up slightly, showing that she was not wearing a garter belt, but two individual garters. How antique they were, how retro.

How downright sexy they were. Even just sitting there was tight and uncomfortable for him.

He had to keep his eyes moving, for even though she was looking out the window, he got the impression that if he 'ogled' her again, he would have to pay.

He sat quietly, his hands in his lap, looking around the back seat. After a while, he opened his mouth to ask where they were going.

"So, whe..." was all he was able to get out. Before he could utter another syllable, her right leg came off the other, shot out, and her high-heeled foot stopped a mere half an inch away from his groin. He sucked in his breath and tried to inhale his manhood away from her spiked shoe. Ever so slowly, her foot tilted forward, as if she was pressing on a gas pedal, and the flat ball of her shoe pressed against the head of his cock. Looking up at her, she saw her head leaning towards him, her eyes looking directly at him as if he was above her.

In the same sickly sweet voice, she asked him, "If no ogling is rule number one, what do you think rule number two is? I'll give you a hint. It's the same one that I followed on your birthday." His mouth opened, then closed, uncertainly. He looked at her with a questioning look on his face and she nodded for him to proceed.

"Um..." he said hesitantly, still fully aware of her foot as it pressed against him, "Do whatever you say. Don't do anything unless told to. No talking, especially."

Her foot pressed harder against him. She spoke again.

"Now, say 'Thank you, Ma'am, for correcting my mistake. It won't happen again."

"Thank you, Ma'am, for correcting my mistake. It won't happen again."

Her foot slowly lightened on his stomach, and it's leg returned to its spot on top of her left thigh. He breathed slightly easier.

Of course, they had a safe word, but, like her, he was going to be hard pressed to use it. In their everyday life, she was a shy woman. She worked at the local curio shop, helping out one of her friends. She was quiet, kind, and was usually very sedate.

But not always.

As the saying goes, it's always the quiet ones. She was usually quiet and calm, but when they played their games, she took to her role like a fish to water. If she was the Sub, she would take everything he would throw at her, loving every minute of it, knowing that she was at his mercy, devouring the idea that she was his plaything, his to do with as he pleased.

As the Dom, she loved it equally, slipping into the act, enjoying the power and command. It wasn't her normal attitude, but that was the point of the game, wasn't it, to become someone that you're not, even if it's just for a while. At this thought, he held in the grin before it spread across his face. It will definitely be an interesting night.

They rode in silence for a bit, both lost in their own thoughts on what was to come, but soon the limo took a turn into a neighborhood. He thought he recognized the area, and inside his own head, he groaned. As the car came to a halt at the curb of a house, he knew what was going to come. This was her friends' house.

Out of all the people in the world, she had become friends with two of the most bubbly women in the world. They had been best friends since elementary school, and his wife had joined the duo in high school. It wasn't that they were bad, or stupid even. It was the idea that they talked A LOT about the most inane things. They didn't laugh, they giggled. It was as if that when they got together, they both lost their adulthoods and turned into thirteen year old girls. His wife wasn't as bad as them, but they were enough, and the fact that they hung around a lot didn't help.

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves, wondering why she had to choose tonight to include her friends. Then it struck him. She did it because she could. She knew that he didn't like hanging around with them, and so she did it to get to him. She was devious, trying to get him to give up and use the safe word. Well, he could take it.

Then he noticed her looking at him, her foot bouncing impatiently. Looking around, he noticed that the driver hadn't gotten out yet. She was expecting him do handle the door. He leaned over and opened the door, crawling out and holding it open as he took her hand and helped her out. She stepped gracefully down the walk, snapping her fingers to get him to follow her. His ears heard her heels clicking as they stepped down the concrete path to the door, but his eyes were locked on the 'V' coming down the back of the dress, showing, with every step, the very top of her ass. He was hypnotized.

She stopped a foot away from the door and crossed her hands on top of her purse in front of her. He stepped up and rang the bell, and almost immediately the door slowly swung open. He closed his eyes in preparation of the bird-chatter that was imminent ...but it never came.

Opening his eyes slowly, his jaw hit the tops of his shiny shoes. As the two other women stepped out and joined his wife, there stood three stunning women, silent as a void, each one dressed to the nines.

The set was now complete: Brunette and Redhead now joined Blonde. The two friends were dressed in equally stunning black dresses, not exactly the same, but just as sexy.

Brunette had a low-cut neckline, not nearly as low as his wife's, but it accentuated her equally ample bosom just the same. Her hair hung around her ears, not in a bun, but the whole look of her face gave off the same severity that his wife's attitude did. She had on similarly severe stilettos, bringing her toes to a point, and she wore a pair of tight patterned fishnet stockings, with large holes cut strategically in places, held up with identical garter straps as his wife.

Redhead had a more conservative neckline, but the sides angled in as they came down, showing off the sides of her breasts. Her hair was put up, showing the natural curls of her hair, but keeping them off her shoulders. The hemline of the dress was lower then the other two, coming close to her knees, but the sides of the dress, he realized, were just folded over each other, never quite coming together in a seam. It was being held by a wide black belt around her waist, showing a peeking view as she walked of the side of her ass, her thighs, and the tops of her nylons. Her shoes had slim straps that wound up to mid thigh, embracing the looser patterned fishnets underneath, but stopping just before the stockings ended in the same kind of garter straps.

All three women had gotten together to try to drive him nuts.

He almost yelped in pain as blood shot into his cock, almost strangling itself against the ring. He was able to keep it to a small cringe, but the three pairs of keen eyes didn't miss this. One by one and without a single word, Blonde, Brunette, and Redhead, each reached up and slapped him across his cheek before turning, one after another, and walking towards the limo. He rubbed his cheek, trying to ease the sting of three opera gloves smacking against his newly shaven jaw, then jogged to beat the trio of sirens in order to open the door. It was difficult to do, jogging while being hampered by his hardness.

Opening the door, he held the hands of each of the three women, assisting them into the car, and then entering it himself. He sat back in his original seat in the center of the couch, facing the rear of the car. In front of him were all three women, staring straight at him in a bemused but controlled way. He settled himself into the seat, forcing himself to not be thrown off by the recent unexpected events.

Finally, his wife spoke. "I have invited my friends to join us. You will obey them. They are allowed to do anything they want, up to but not including..." She paused, trusting him to know where it was going to stop. She raised an eyebrow, and then continued. "Three glasses of champagne." That was it. It was a simple command, with no discourtesy, but there was no 'please', or any kind of request in it. He bent over, opening the small refrigerator that was set into the side of the luxury car. Inside was a bottle of Dom '79. He didn't know off hand how much it cost, but his wallet cringed at the site of it.

Not wanting to hesitate, he pulled it out and shut the door, opening the small cabinet next to it and retrieving three flutes. Setting them on the top of the cabinet, he undid the foil at the tip of the bottle, untied the small cage, and eased the cork out. It released with a small 'Pop', but he held the cork in his hand, preventing it from ricocheting around the small area. Carefully, he poured the champagne into the three glasses, handing the first to his wife, and then giving the other two to the guests. He replaced the bottle into the refrigerator, sitting back and watching the three women.

Brunette and Redhead raised their glasses, looking towards his wife. "Happy Birthday!" they both said in unison, clinking their glasses with her and sipping. All three smiled at this, savoring the taste of it. He could see them rolling the liquid around in their mouths, tasting every bit, analyzing and enjoying every bubble. He glanced around, not wanting to be caught staring, so he crossed his legs and looked out of the window.

He turned back as Brunette kicked his leg off of the other. Her shoe was off, and her stockinged foot slowly ran along his thigh. Traveling up his chest, it came to rest on his shoulder, where he could see straight down the outside of her leg, past the garters, to the bare curve of the butt as it wiggled slightly in the black leather seat. His eyes shot to his wife, who was smiling, and then back to Brunette, who had a questioning look in her eyes.

"Are my seams lined up?" she asked in a simple, Shirley Temple type voice.

He couldn't talk. He just barely was able to nod; not taking his eyes off her's in fear of reprisal.

"Are you sure?" she asked, still acting innocent. "You didn't even look." Her bottom lip stuck out in a sad, pitying way.

He glanced down at the leg, letting his eyes travel down the length. Again, his head made a quick series of nods, as if his neck was on a paint shaker. Her foot pressed down on his shoulder as she rolled away from him, her hand sliding up the hem of her skirt as if to show the rest of the stocking, but moving beyond and showing more of her ass as well.