Her Birthday

The waitress placed the items on the table, arranging the three shot glasses in front of the women, while the large glass of what turned out to be water was set in front of him.

"Designated driver, right?" she said to him, smiling. She patted his shoulder, and then moved away. Turning back to the table, he saw all three once again staring at him, and the Blonde nodded to the table. He picked up the bottle, uncorked it, and filled the three glasses. Each of the women licked their own wrists, sprinkled salt on them, and then, pausing only a moment to smile at each other, all three licked the salt of their wrists, downed the shot, slammed the glasses back down onto the small table, and then grabbed a slice of lime out of the bowl, biting in to them. They giggled to themselves as they did this, smiling to each other, but ignoring him as if he wasn't even there.

The night progressed, and the women took shots, shared an order of nachos, and had a good time, and all he could do was sit there, sipping his glass of water. Occasionally, a man would come by and invite one of the women to dance, and they would accept or decline, but they would always come back to the table. Even his wife got up and danced a couple of the more energetic songs. He did notice, however, that she always stared at him as she moved, snake-like, on the dance floor.

And all he could do was sit there, watch, and drink his water.

He also saw that she didn't drink nearly as much as the other two, keeping her seriousness and sober. One time, while he was alone, a cute, tanned woman came up to him and asked him to dance. Before he could reply, his wife appeared, grabbing his arm and pulling him up. She looked over at the woman, smiling, but in the way that women smile when they are meeting a potential enemy and competition. Keeping the smile, her eyes grew deadly, and her head moved back and forth just once, almost imperceptable, giving the intruder a definite and steely, 'No. He's mine,' look.

Dragging him onto the dance floor, she centered him, standing him straight. Her eyebrows flickered up, in a 'watch this' move, and then she gently placed her two fingers into her mouth, letting out a piercing whistle.

The pounding music stopped, and the silence that reigned in the club was deafening. The other dancers looked around at the quietness questioningly, wondering what was going on, and, when the room went dark and a single spotlight shot down upon him, they slowly backed away to the perimeter of the dance floor.

There he stood, unsure as to what was going on, in the middle of an almost empty space, with a crowd of strangers staring at him, wondering what was happening. It was almost empty, except for the exquisite Blonde that was staring at him like a hunter stalking prey. Then, out darkness, stepped Brunette and Redhead, surrounding him, Brunette walking with confidence behind him to his left, Redhead matching each step but moving to the right.

As soon as they took their positions, it was like time froze. He wasn't allowed to move, and the world was watching. He stood there, almost scared, but still, wondering what was about to happen. Softly, almost quietly, the first few notes of the song rolled over the crowd, and it took him a moment to recognize it.

"Por Una Cabeza" was their song, and it was a good one. A tango that had been made famous by many movies, it was most prominently featured in "Scent of a Woman". Playful and romantic, it held a seductive quality, giving it a fast and sensual feeling.

As the song played, Blonde moved at the edge of the light, slowly at first, taking deliberate steps, first to the left, then to the right, stepping towards him like she was stalking him. He heard steps behind him on both sides, and knew that the other two were matching her, step-by-step, 120 degrees apart.

He couldn't take his eyes off of her. He was a deer caught in the headlights. The music took him in, and she had caught him completely. He was quivering, standing in the middle, and not able to move even if he wanted to.

She stalked him, moving slowly and smoothly, once again slithering around with a look on her face like a hunting snake. She moved to his left, walking around him about five feet away, pacing a circle around him. As she left his sight, from the right stepped Redhead, and then Brunette, both trying to match the step and the look of Blonde, and even coming close, but neither had the eyes.

As they moved behind him, Blonde shot into his view. She was no longer at a distance, but was nose-to-nose and chest-to-chest with him. Her eyes burned holed into his skull, flaming with desire and sexuality, and slowly, ever so slowly, she began to move, rocking her body with the movement of the music. The other two women stepped in front of him again, but he wasn't paying attention as they faded back into the crowd, leaving him and his woman alone in the light.

She grinded against his rigid body, moving and massaging her own body against him, rubbing him here, caressing him there, all while he just stood there, shaking. She turned her body, facing away from him, and pressed her back up against him. Grabbing his hands, she ran them down her sides and over her hips as she gyrated, pulling them around her, so that they held her in a deep hug. Pushing her ass into his groin, she slowly forced him to sway with her, his hips matching hers, the music swelling and growing. He thought he heard a couple of gasps and "Ohs" from the crowd outside the light, but he wasn't paying attention.

She leaned her head back on his shoulder, reaching up with one hand and pulling his head down next to her ear. Closing her eyes, she let out a slight groan as she felt his hot breath on her shoulder.

With a flourish, she spun away from him, leaving one hand on his shoulder. She stepped around him, trailing her fingers over his shoulder and across the width of his back, and, as the last bits of the music slowly came to an end, she came to face him in front and, very graciously, spread her arms slightly, and femininely bowed to him.

The crowd was silent for a second before a roar of cheering and whistles erupted. The lights came back on, but before he could regain his sight, she grabbed his hand and led him to the door. She strode with purpose, but not hurriedly, and as they passed through the applauding clubbers, he heard "Good job," and "Beautiful" coming at him. A couple of men even clapped him on the shoulder. Looking back, wondering about the other two, he noticed that both were at the table they had left, enthusiastically making out with a couple of men. "They can get their own ride home," he thought.

The limo pulled up and he opened the door. She stepped in, taking her place as he sat across from her. As they sat, even though she sat sipping a glass of champagne and looked out the window without any major interest, her face was flushed, her cheeks rosy. She kept her demeanor, neither smiling nor breathing hard, and pretended to ignore him. He as across from her, hands in his lap, watching the world go by.

The car winded through the busy nighttime streets of the city, white and red lights flashing by the window. The compartment was silent, with just the slight tinkling of the champagne as it bubbled in the half empty bottle.

Soon the automobile slowed, pulling into the horseshoe driveway of a large, elegant hotel. He opened the door, holding it as always, and assisting Blonde to her feet. She walked past him towards the front doors, which were held opened in turn by classically dressed doormen.

Looking around, he faltered in his step. He had a bad feeling about this. This was the same hotel that they had spent the night of his birthday. Swallowing hard, he continued along behind the beauty.

She went towards the rear of the lobby, but, as she passed the check-in desk, the lady behind the counter came out and handed her a small square box. She took it without slowing down, and then continued on to the elevators. She entered one quickly and quietly, him having to half jog, half shuffle to enter before the doors closed.

The elevator attendant glanced at the guests that had just entered, lightly moving from the man to the woman. As he saw the woman's face, his jaw dropped, and all color left from his face. Turning, he stared directly at the front of the car, his knuckles white on the handle of the mechanism.

With difficulty, he cleared his throat. "Ahem. Which..." his voice squeaked slightly. "Which floor, please?"

The man stood against the back wall, wondering what was going on, but Blonde had a look of recognition come over her. Striding up behind the man, she whispered into his ear, a sly grin on her face.

"Top floor." As the words came out, the attendant jumped slightly, trying to keep his calm.

'What was bothering him?' the slave wondered.

"Weren't you working this elevator a few months ago?" the Blonde asked, still next to his ear.

The man didn't say a word, but his head nodded vigorously.

"Good," she purred. Opening her small purse, Blonde pulled out a bill, rolled it up into a small tube, and laid it on his shoulder.

"Then, you know the rules, right?"

He nodded again, quietly reached up, plucked the money out of her hand, and tucked it into his pocket, never saying a word and keeping his eyes, like daggers, stuck to the doors ahead of him.

Turning back to her husband, Blonde's face immediately went hard. She walked up to him, coming within inches of him and looking him dead in the eyes. She stared at him for a moment, watching for any reaction. He didn't flinch, but he was nervous. He didn't know what she was going to do.

As suddenly as she started it, she broke away, striding around the small space. She stopped about four feet away, turning to face him again.

"It's my birthday, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"You are to do what I say, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I can do whatever I want, correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

She paused; look at him as if she was making a decision. Glancing back at the attendant, she returned her look at her, took a deep breath, and then brought the box she had received in the lobby out, holding it in front of her. She walked up to him, holding it out.

"Hold this," she said, and he took it. It was about eight inches, square, two inches high, and was wrapped in glossy black paper. She had him hold the bottom as she removed the lid. Looking down, he saw a thick black dog collar, studded with chrome buttons, with a silver medallion hanging from one side. It was engraved with the letter 'P'. Taking the collar, she pulled the box and let it drop the floor.

"Take off your jacket and shirt," she said, in the same tone, neither demanding nor questioning. He shrugged his coat off, draping it over his arm, and then started to unbutton his shirt, his undershirt soon following.

She stepped up, fastening the collar around his neck, the medallion cold against his collarbone. She stepped back, admiring her work, but then frowned.

"Something's missing." She dug into her small black purse. Inside was a long black ribbon, and on the end was a small latch. He looked at it as she approached him, recognizing it as the one he had put on her on his birthday. She came up to him, the latch ready, and with one deft movement, attached it to the medallion, then let the ribbon lay against him. Stepping back, she stood, admiring her submissive man.

"Close your eyes," she said, quietly. The words were almost whispered, but there was no sense of request in them. He shut his eyes tight, starting to enjoy the unknown. He felt her grab the long ribbon that draped down his chest, and she gently wrapped it around his head, covering his eyes, but not tying it in the back.

He felt more then heard her move back to where she had stood, and he heard her take another deep breath, and then there was a shuffling of cloth. Listening as hard as he could, he almost jumped at the sound of her voice.

"Put your arm out." He did as he was told, and he felt her drape something across his arm. "Hold on to that."

He brought his arm against himself; holding whatever it was like a waiter would hold a towel. He heard her purse open, and something jangled slightly. He heard something else, which he couldn't identify, and then the purse snapped shut.

She put her hands on his chest, running her palms up to his shoulders and then up to the ribbon. Slowly she unwound the long piece of silk, and he felt her hold on to the end.

"How does my lipstick look?" she asked in a sweet, almost normal voice. His eyes fluttered open, a split second of blindness from the harsh light before his eyes focused on her. He almost had a heart attack right then and there.

Standing before him was a sight beyond what he had ordered on his own birthday. His eyes goggled as his eyes traveled down his sexy wife. Her hair was still in a tight bun on the top of her head, but she had added a necklace. It registered in his head that it was the tight, pearled, choker that he had given her for his birthday, still with the small silver medallion with the initial, 'K', centered on it.

Her garters were at her upper thighs, and the black ribbons from them descended a couple of inches to meet her stockings, which, with their paw prints, traveled down her toned, well formed legs until they met the high heels.

Between those was nothing but her. Her nude body looked inviting and irresistible as she stood, one hand on her hip as she waited for his answer. She had taken off her dress, donned the necklace, and added a deep red lipstick.

She stood there, appropriately in her birthday suit, waiting for him, but his brain refused to work. She stepped up to him, reached around, and slapped him against the cheek.

"What have I told you about ogling?" she asked, pointing her finger in his face. It didn't even register to him that he had gotten hit again. Turning, she looked at the attendant. Raising her voice slightly, she called to him in her sickeningly sweet voice.

"Excuse me. Mister elevator man? Is my lipstick ok?"

The man, very slowly, turned his head around to face her, almost hesitantly. His eyes froze in his head as he saw her, and he whipped his head back around towards the front of the elevator. His head started slowly, but he nodded quickly, almost like it was vibrating on his neck. Sweat was running off of his face.

"Thank you," she said, and then turned back to her husband. What her pet saw, that Blonde didn't, was the attendant quickly making the sign of the cross on his chest, his hand shaking badly.

She watched her pet, keeping her haughty and dominant gaze on him, until the elevator slowed and stopped.

The doors opened wide, and with a hoarse voice, almost too quiet to hear, the attendant said, "Top floor."

Turning, Blonde stepped out of the elevator, pulling the leash, and her slave, behind her. As he stepped over the threshold, she stopped and turned, walking back to the elevator attendant. Stepping in front of him, she looked at him. He seemed to be vibrating, nervous and scared of the uncomfortable situation he found himself in.

Leaning close, she whispered to him, "Thank you for the ride," and leaned in, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. Pulling back slightly, her eyebrows bunched up, and she frowned.

"Do you know what?" she asked the attendant. When he shook his head, quickly and uncertainly, she continued, "I don't think I ever got to thank you for last time, either."

Without a word, she stepped into him, running her fingers around his head through his thinning hair, and kissed him full on the lips, long and sensually, her nude body pressing against his uniform. She moaned quietly, pulling him into her, until finally, she pulled back, sucking his bottom lip as she did so.

Straightening up, she sighed deeply, smiled sweetly and turned. With a tug, her man was pulled away down the hall by the leash.

As soon as the elevator's doors closed, there was a loud thump that was heard coming from its direction.

On the top floor of the hotel, there were eight master suites, all connected by a main hallway that circled an indoor patio area like a square. She strutted down the length of the hallway, for there was no other word for it. She strode down the hallway in no particular hurry. Her toes were pointed with every step, and she strode in complete control, full-length strides, totally cool and utterly confidant, and mistress of her domain. She looked like she owned a world in which all life was for her, insignificant unless she deemed them worthy to be noticed. She stepped like a cock-on-the-walk, wiggling her ass and putting one foot elegantly in front of the other, proud as can be, but totally straight-faced, completely calm. She strutted.

Up ahead, a well-to-do old couple rounded the corner. They were dressed up, she wearing furs, while he was draped in an old-style cloak. As soon as they set eyes on his wife, a couple of things happened. The gentleman's jaw hit the floor. He stopped in mid step, and he would have jerked his wife to a stop if she hadn't stopped along with him, stunned by the sight of a woman striding down the hallway, virtually nude, with a shirtless man on a leash in tow.

As they passed, the slave saw his wife nod to the couple, nothing extravagant, but a minimal nod, as if she was royalty, favoring a peasant with the honor of acknowledgement.

Tearing her eyes away from the mistress, the woman looked at her husband. The slave glanced back and saw a look of disgust appear on her face, and he almost felt it when the lady swung her handbag around, connecting with the old man's temple. He didn't look like he even felt it.

As they rounded the same corner, the leashed man noticed a single man, dressed in the hotel's uniform, standing guard next to the door of a suite. Without batting an eye, he watched the approaching couple without any comment or even any apparent notice of anything out of the ordinary. As the mistress strode up to him, he flipped out a keycard from his breast pocket, and opened the door.

She walked past him into the suite, and he spoke. "The room is as you requested ma'am. Everything is ready. She stopped just inside the doorway and looked silently around the room with a critical gaze. After a moment, she gave one silent nod, and then, without even turning around, absently waved her hand in the general direction of her slave. The guard held the keycard out to the slave and then, with only a returning nod, he turned and walked briskly back towards the elevators.

The husband stepped inside of the doorway, shutting it behind him, and then waited. After a moment of looking around some more, Blonde let the leash slip from her fingers. Walking to the center of the main room, she ran her fingers over the counter of the bar that stood away from wall that held the front door.

A couch and two upholstered chairs made a U shape in the middle of the room, creating a conversation place in the middle of the main room. There was art on a couple of the walls, and a closed cabinet directly in front of the open U. Opposite of the bar was two doors, open, leading to what appeared to be a large bathroom and an even larger bedroom.

The entire wall opposite of the front door was a huge picture window, covered by thin, gauzy curtains. A sliding glass door on the left led to a balcony overlooking the busy city outside.

"Leave the dress on the counter and come," Blonde said, and walked over to the glass wall, pulling the curtains wide. Opening the door, she stepped out into the open night air, taking a deep breath and looking around. He did what she told him and then followed, watching her step gracefully around the patio, leaning over the balcony and looking down, turning and looking up at the building and the sky.