Tawny and the Trade Show

I had been wondering why Damon himself was doing all this stuff for Garvey. It seemed like the sort of thing a CEO would delegate. But as he stood there staring down at my wide-open pussy, his expression told me he'd probably be fucking me himself after Garvey left. Why delegate when you can watch all the kinky stuff being done, get nice and excited, and then get to fuck me?

Garvey looked over at Damon and said, "You still got that ball-gag?"

Damon did, and very shortly I had it back in my mouth.

"You thought I was kidding about the beer bottle, didn't you, bitch?"

I shook my head "no", but I don't think he really cared if I though he was kidding or not.

"Hope you're wet."

With his thumb and forefinger, he spread my pussy lips, and pressed the bottom of that cold bottle against my opening. I made an involuntary squeak -- the bottle was painfully cold!

Holding it by the neck, he angled it to one side, so that the bottom edge could poke into me like a wedge. He rubbed it up and down between my lips a little, moving the coldness to a new spot every couple of seconds. He was steadily pushing it harder against me, and starting to focus on the entrance to my pussy. He stopped sliding it around, and increased the pressure. As I'd done earlier tonight with my ass, I was now trying to relax my pussy.

"Yeah, there you go, let it in."

He spun it a little as he worked it into me. The bottom of the bottle wasn't totally smooth, it had little bumps or ridges, and I could feel each one as they rubbed against the sensitive opening. I felt my pussy being stretched open, and as Garvey pushed a little harder, the entire bottom of the bottle slid into me.

"Ok, bitch, looks like your twat is wide enough. Let's see if it's deep enough."

He pushed it in another inch or two, and I gasped at the chilling sensation. First my tits and now my pussy -- what was it with this guy and cold? He kept pushing, and I moaned into my ball-gag as the hard, icy bottle invaded the depths of my soft opening. The metal walls of the bottle were doing a great job of conveying the cold into my wet, and previously warm, pussy.

He stopped with the wide part of the bottle about half-way in, then pulled it all the way out. I gasped at the sudden emptiness, and lack of the coldness I had just been getting used to. He wasn't done, though, just teasing me I guess, because a few seconds later he worked it back in. It was easier this time, as I was still stretched, but the expression on his face made it clear he was enjoying inserting it into me again.

This time he didn't stop at the half-way point. Slow and steady, he kept pushing it in until my pussy held the entire length of the wide section. I felt the cold radiating through my pelvis, stinging at first and then slowly becoming a little numb.

"I think you can take more," he said. He was breathing fast, and his dick looked rock-hard. Once again he took the time to give it a few strokes with his other hand. He resumed pushing, and didn't stop until I screamed into the ball-gag as the bottle encountered what had to be noticeable resistance to further progress.

"Look at that." He motioned Damon over for a closer look. There was pride in his voice as he said, "Got it in there far enough her pussy can close around the neck of this beer."

He looked at me, and said, "You want to see it sticking out of your slutty cunt?"

He didn't wait for an answer, as he let go of the bottle and came around to where he could grab a handful of my hair, and use it to roughly tilt my head up off the bed. I looked down, and could just barely see the short length of the neck of the bottle that still protruded from my pussy. It did look and even feel like the entrance to my pussy had contracted down to grip the bottle's narrow neck.

"Hey, I only had a few swigs -- she's got more beer in her than I do in me." He laughed like he'd told the best joke ever, and Damon responded with a laugh that was clearly just out of politeness.

He let go of my hair, and I lay my head back down on the bed. Garvey grabbed the neck of the bottle, and moved it around in circles, churning the body of the bottle around in my pussy. It was an interesting sensation, and maybe it was just because I was feeling pretty damned slutty, but the little bit of pain and discomfort just made me even more excited. I wondered if he was going to at least fuck me with it a little bit, or was just going to wiggle it around in me.

Apparently just stuffing it up me was enough for him, because after a few more slow circles with the top of the bottle, he pulled it out. At least he did it slowly.

The beer bottle was just the warmup -- although it had been far from warm -- and as I'd feared, he was anxious to move on to the champagne bottle.

The beer bottle had actually gotten me excited enough, and loosened me up enough that I was kind of curious to see how far my wet pussy would let him get, even though I knew it wasn't going to fit. Yes, I'm aware that when sexy pain get's me into "slut mode", it just makes me want more sexy pain. That's one of the reasons Eric was concerned that I have some good pre-defined rules that applied to my parties.

At least it's not cold, I thought, as he pressed the wide bottom edge of the bottle between my pussy lips, just the way he had started with the beer bottle. He rubbed it up and down before centering it on the opening between my lips.

Damon said, "Here, at least add some lube." He handed a bottle of lube to Garvey, as he rolled his eyes, which I saw but Garvey didn't. I couldn't decide if I appreciated him making sure things were plenty slippery, or if I was annoyed that he was prolonging things by humoring the guy.

Garvey squirted lube on my pussy, and on the bottom of the bottle, then replaced the bottle between my legs and got back to trying to work it into me. He wasn't a complete idiot, so he realized that if it had any chance of working, he needed to give my pussy time to relax and stretch. He maintained a constant pressure, not hard enough to actually hurt, but firm enough to let my hoo ha know that something was trying to fit inside, and it should do its expanding thing.

After a minute or two, he actually had what felt like almost half of the circumference of the bottle's bottom wedged inside me. Getting impatient, he started pulling on the opposite pussy lip, and pressing a little harder. I yelled into the ball-gag, which startled him, and he let up for second, but quickly resumed with possibly even more effort.

This sequence repeated a few more times over the next couple of minutes, with him pulling and prying, me yelling when he pulled or pushed too hard, and a disappointing amount of progress being made, judging by the expression on his face.

Damon said, "Uh, Garvey, that's just not going to fit."

Garvey set his jaw, and maintained, "I've seen pictures."

"Ok, yeah, I'm sure you have. But Tawny here has a nice tight little pussy. I'm surprised you were able fit that beer bottle up her. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that the girl who can take a champagne bottle in her snatch, and the girl who can squeeze your dick with it are two different girls."

Yeah, and I'm the second kind, asshole! I'm freaking religious in my devotion to doing my Kegels, and it's paid off. Even guys with smaller than average cocks find me plenty tight. Sure, even a well-toned vagina can expand, but not this much. At least mine doesn't.

Garvey frowned, shook his head in resignation, and set down the bottle of champagne. He glanced over at the wine bottles on bar, which, while smaller than the champagne bottle, were still noticeable bigger than that beer bottle. For a minute, I thought he'd set his sights on that lesser goal, but then he looked away and admitted defeat.

"Well," he said, "I wanted to fuck her anyway."

Now that made sense. His dick had been hard the entire time he'd been sticking, and trying to stick, bottles in me. Let's use my pussy for what it's good at.

He climbed on top of me, and said, "Always wanted to fuck a tied-up girl."

He thrust into my well-lubricated pussy in one easy thrust.

"Damn, feels like warm velvet."

His cock was nice and hard, and I loved having something soft -- at least relative to a beer bottle -- and warm in me, and I closed my eyes and relished the feeling of him sliding his cock in and out, fast and hard. As excited as he clearly was, I didn't expect him to last long enough to get me to my orgasm, and sadly I was correct. I'd barely started down that road when he groaned, pressed hard into me, and I felt his cock pulsing as he came in me. He collapsed on top of me, and lay there letting his cock get soft, before he pulled out and got off the bed. He seemed like the type of guy who lost all interest in sex moments after they come, not even sparing a glance at the hot, naked, tied down, and just-fucked girl as he quickly got dressed.

Damon at least waited until the guy had his pants zipped up before he said, "So, can we count on you using Roped Up as your sole supplier?"

"Oh, yes," said Garvey enthusiastically. "I really had fun, she's an amazing little slut."

"That's great," said Damon. "I'm very glad our little bonus here helped you make your decision."

"Yeah. But still a lot of things I didn't have a chance to do with her," he said, a note of disappointment in his voice.

Garvey continued, "I'd like to talk to you about that." His eyes quickly darted to me, back to Damon, and then he nodded towards the suite's living room. Damon nodded in understanding, and together they walked out of the bedroom. I could hear them talking quietly, but only caught a few words here and there, like "clamps", "senior staff", and "this wide".

❖ ❖ ❖

I heard the door close, and Damon strode back in to the bedroom. I looked at him quizzically.

"That was nothing you need to worry about," Damon said, replying to my unspoken question. "Suffice it to say that he told me he wanted to do a lot more with you than he got to do tonight, and have some of his even more-imaginative cohorts join in. He also seemed to feel limited by not having any, quote, 'proper toys' available this time."

I squinted at him, trying to look as skeptical as a girl can look with a ball-gag in her mouth.

"Oh, I told him I'd think about it," he said with a wry grin. "Never tell the customer 'no'."

"But," he assured me, "he is not getting his wish. Even just a few of the things he mentioned wanting to do would make tonight's little stunts seem like nothing more than practice."

He frowned, and added, "I know your rules, and we've had too much fun with you at our parties, and are going to get too much new business due to your talents, to jeopardize our relationship."

I would have liked it if his refusal to let Garvey have a second go at me was based on, you know, caring about me as an actual person, rather than a financial calculation. But hey, he was a CEO, and the correlation between CEOs and sociopaths is rather high.

But either way, I was glad he was respecting my rules. Although, as always, there was a part of me that was curious about just what kinky stuff ole Garvey had in mind. And, a part that was a little excited. I was confident that Eric would shake his head and look at me sideways when I told him about Garvey, and my fascinated speculation about what Damon didn't even want to tell me he wanted to do. Eric thinks I get too carried away sometimes with my fantasies, that I'm maybe just a little too willing to explore my limits. I have to admit, sometimes he's not wrong, and I probably count on him more than I should to rein me in.

Damon began unbuttoning his dress shirt, and said,"Speaking of fun with you..."

He took his time undressing. I lay there, still tied down with Garvey's cum pooled under my ass, waiting to be fucked again. Sort of anxiously waiting. While Garvey had gotten me warmed up, I was far from satisfied.

The Roped Up CEO was tall, six-foot-five at least. I vaguely recalled hearing that he'd played basketball in college, at a good school, and seeing him naked I could believe it. The years as a prosperous businessman had added a few pounds, but he was in surprisingly good shape. And, in addition to a higher percentage of sociopaths for CEOs versus the general population, they also tend to be taller than average.

He didn't untie me, but he did take the time to remove my ball-gag before climbing on top of me and plunging his cock into my waiting pussy. Once in, he began fucking me hard and fast. His cock was bigger than Garvey's, and he truly knew how to use it on a girl. He was fucking me like he couldn't wait to get to the finish line, and I was making loud "uhhh, uhhh" noises of pleasure each time he'd drive into me.

The seeming urgency of his fucking turned out, happily, to be an illusion. After a few minutes of the energetic fucking he was giving me, he was breathing hard, but hadn't slowed down one iota. While Garvey had barely gotten me off the starting line by the time he came, Damon had managed to get me from zero to sixty in a couple of minutes. I felt the tingling warmth of a building orgasm, and was confident I'd get there this time.

Damon was working up toward his orgasm as well. He'd been holding himself above me, in a push-up pose the whole time, but now he shifted to hold himself up with just one arm. This left his other hand free to play with my tits. He started by just pulling on my nipples, and rolling them between his finger tips. It felt good, but he knew he was just teasing me.

"Pull those nipples," I moaned. I truly love having my tits pulled when I'm being fucked. He gave them a few decent tugs, but for a guy who was very happy to see me used and abused for his business purposes, he seemed pretty content with just a straight fuck.

He gave them a few good squeezes though, and that was all it took for me. I squealed and made other orgasm-ey sounds as I came, my legs and arms pulling against the ropes. I expected my spasming pussy to push him over the edge, but he just kept thrusting away. He did return to his push-up position, and sped up a little, but it was at least another minute before he quietly growled, and his thrusts got slow and deliberate, each one pumping another jet of cum into my pussy. He let himself collapse onto me and we lay there, each of us coming down from our orgasms.

"Can't believe how tight your pussy is even after all that stuff Garvey did with those bottles," he mumbled. His breathing slowed, and for a second I though he was going to fall asleep on top of me, but he only lay there a little longer before suddenly climbing off of me, and out of the bed.

He took the time to untie me before he himself went to wash up. I'd have taken that for a kind gesture from most guys, but for Damon I suspected it was more akin to taking proper care of a valuable horse when returning it to the stables after a good hard ride.

We both got cleaned up and dressed, and he bid me a good night, reminding me to be at the Roped Up booth well before the show floor opened tomorrow morning.

Booth Babe

The trade-show's exhibition floor didn't open for another half-hour, but the "Exhibitor"pass that Damon had given me allowed me to get through the door. I walked through the empty aisles, amazed by just how many companies there apparently were that sold rope, and thinking about how quiet it was now, and how bustling it would shortly become. At least, it would if it was anything like the trade shows I'd attended as part of my "day job" at the newspaper.

I made my way over to the surprisingly large Roped Up booth, where I was greeted by Damon and two of his employees. They were setting up things, putting out literature, samples, and various show schwag. I pulled up a chair and watched as they finished their preparations. It was about five minutes before the doors would open and let the attendees pour in when Damon finally turned his attention towards me.

"Alright Tawny, please take off your clothes."

I'd worn some cute pink shorts, and a sheer tank-top that was easy to get out of, so within seconds I was standing there wearing just my lacy bra, panties, and fuck-me pumps.

Damon looked me up and down, and said, "Very nice. But keep going, please."

I had assumed I'd be standing around the booth in a bikini, or at a minimum, some revealing lingerie. Heck, maybe even a rope-bra or something. And by "standing around" I meant tied up. But naked?

"Uh, Damon, you can't have a naked girl in your booth," I pointed out.

"Au contraire, my dear. Not only can, but will. Since this trade-show is by paid-admittance only, the laws on this island do not consider you to be 'in public', so full nudity is perfectly fine. They only draw the line at actual sexual acts. So no blowjobs, penetration, or even touching." He made a show of shaking his head sadly, then grinned and added, "At least on the show floor, that is."

Well, this was going to make my time as a booth-babe more interesting! I felt myself flush. Not out of embarrassment, but with excitement. Getting to indulge my strong streak of exhibitionism by being naked at an event like this was the kind of thing I fantasized about. Eric had told me there would be more than one surprise that I'd enjoy on this trip. This was definitely one of them.

I had just stripped out of my underwear and shoes, when a few more booth personnel arrived. They included an actual fully dressed woman, and fairly large individual called, I kid you not, "Knuckles", and whose job it was to make sure that the no-touching rule was respected. And more importantly, that no photos were taken of me. I was very glad that Damon was taking that last one so seriously. Being so far from home satisfied my concerns about being recognized by any of the attendees, but photos... well, photos were another story in today's global social-media world.

❖ ❖ ❖

Damon led me over the the big wooden frame that was obviously meant for me. It stood in the front of the booth, right on the aisle. Big and square, about seven feet on each side, it was painted a bright red, and was deep enough to be stable and not be at risk of tipping forwards or backwards. It had to have been made here, I thought. Shipping something like that, even broken down, would have been crazy expensive.

Near each of the inside corners was a big, sturdy looking metal eye-bolt. Attached to each of these eye-bolts were lengths of bright blue, slick-looking rope with wide nylon cuffs at their ends.

I stepped into it, and Damon and the other guys wasted no time in securing the cuffs around my wrists and ankles. They drew the ankle ropes tight, not stopping until my legs were spread wide. Not uncomfortable, but just barely. Then they pulled the ropes attached to my wrists taut, then pulled a little more and actually took some of my weight off my feet. I wasn't suspended by my arms, by any means, but I was certainly pulled up a little. The wide cuffs were comfortable, and ensured that there was no undue pressure on any nerves in my wrist -- always something to be aware of with bondage, especially any that supports some of your weight.

I saw some of the exhibit hall staff making their way towards the doors, preparing to let in the waiting throngs, and I thought it was nice that Damon had waited until the last minute to tie me up.

Damon took a little "No Touching" sign, set it on the frame between my legs, and then he picked up the ball gag from the table next to me. I opened my mouth obligingly to let him insert it. He buckled it loosely, since it was basically just for show -- I didn't expect to be moaning and yelling into it here on the show floor.

Just as he finished securing my ball-gag, they opened the doors, and I saw that my estimate of "throngs" might have been a bit optimistic for the Biennial Rope & Cable Manufacturer's Trade Show. Still, there was a reasonably steady flow of people coming in, so maybe my expectations had been warped by Comic-Con, and this was what a normal conference exhibit hall looked like when the doors opened.