The Cocktail Party

"Take your time in the tub," my Master had ordered, when he called to inform me about the cocktail party.

He had the entire house custom built to suit his, now our, pleasures. Luxuriating in a deep whirlpool jet tub, big enough to seat at least four, maybe six if they wanted to get cozy, was just the beginning of the special treats, but definitely one of my favourites. Master knew that, and this command was clearly a gift to me. Like a good slave, I knew I would repay Master in time; in his time, more precisely.

I loved the tub so much that I was tempted to finger myself, but I knew that if I so much as caressed my erect nipples, my clit would ache so badly that I would orgasm. Master had not specified anything about that. I knew Master, and if he wanted me to release my sexual excitement, he would have said so. If I jilled myself off, and later claimed that I thought "take your time" was code, I might earn a solid slap across my face. As much as I loved Master's discipline, I did not want to incur true wrath.

Master had bought me a new little black dress for the cocktail party, and I took my time dressing. Just one look at the dress told me that if I tried to wear it with a bra, or even panties, the lines would show. Master knew my body so well, he had picked a dress which would fit just like a glove, with room to caress my abundant flesh, but no more. Cut low in back and front, a bra would be jarringly obvious and destroy the effect. Panties would be just as superfluous. It still took time to wriggle my hips and tits into the fabric, and to smooth the dress into place. When I examined myself in the mirror, I was pleased, and knew that Master would be even more so. The black silk flowed over my skin like I was wearing just a layer of paint, moulded to my curves. I am not a skinny girl - I have boobs, and hips, but exercise keeps my ass like a shelf. The dress adjusted nicely to the demands of my curves, but there was barely enough to cover my booty, let along my thighs.

What really took the time though was my hair and makeup. Since the dress looked flawless, the rest of me needed to as well. I like to believe Master when he says I'm a natural beauty, but I realized that this party required me to assist nature - the trick, as always, was doing just the right amount to enhance my looks, without overdoing it.

It then took me all the time I had available to select my shoes. I tried on the three-inch black heels, a classic match, but, I concluded, lacking in enough drama. The red cage stilettos went too much the opposite direction. The second I slid my toes into the six-inch pumps, I knew that I was ready for the cocktail party.

Master had sent a car and driver to collect me and deliver me to the party - he worked downtown, and could shower and change at his office. He had told me that he had booked the car so that he would arrive just before me, sparing me any uncertainty about being alone.

The car ride was brief, and uneventful. The air conditioning was on high, making my nipples tingle. I opened my knees slightly, allowing the cool air to bathe my clit, taking the edge off. Master books his drivers from the best livery service - not so much as a glance in the rear view mirror. I gripped my handbag tightly in both hands, to resist touching myself. Even the best driver might react if I started wriggling in the back seat.

I had never been to the house where the cocktail party was being held, so I took extra care navigating the flagstone walkway, and was pleased that my host was waiting at the door. The foyer was mirrored, and brightly lit. I realized that in the light, my large, dark nipples were clearly visible through the sheer fabric of the little black dress - I might as well be topless. The hardness of my nipples from the walk through the nippy evening air just accentuated the effect. I knew though, that Master would have anticipated this when he picked the dress, so I tossed my hair and threw my shoulders back with pride.

Glancing to the side as I walked, I also realized that the cut of the dress left most of the top half of my mounds exposed. Every step that I took made my jugs jiggle. I was not even inside the main room, and men were already ogling my cleavage. I knew that Master was using this display to make the others jealous of the woman he owned. I grinned triumphantly, proud to serve.

My smile widened even further when I saw my Master, halfway across the room, at the centre of a small conversation, looking cool and in control as always - the man all these other men wished they could be.

As I approached, our eyes met, then locked. Our relationship is that tight. I sensed rather than heard the string quartet playing the waltz as Master excused himself and stepped toward me, his arms ready not to embrace me, but to dance.

We immediately moved in time with the music, our hands clasped at shoulder height, and Master softly stroking the small of my back while I rested my arm around his waist. Only then did I appreciate how low the back of the little black dress dipped.

He led me skillfully out of the main room onto the open balcony. Then he leaned over and kissed my cheek just in front of my ear, trailing kisses down to my shoulder and upward again, finally nibbling on my earlobe. By this stage, our bodies were pressed tightly together, his hand holding my loins against his. I could barely breath. His hand slid up my back from my waist, the heat warming my flesh where the fabric ended. When his hand reached my shoulder blade, Master slid it across, caressing the side of my breast. I could not help myself, I had to sigh, express my passion. His fingers closed over my nipple, squeezing it hard as his teeth clamped down on my earlobe with greater force than earlier. That was all it took, after the long buildup, for me to have a tiny orgasm, my knees and clit trembling in the night air, lost in the music, safe in Master's arms.

A moment later, I felt the wall behind me as Master forced me against it. His groin pressed against mine. He had already been semi-erect at the beginning of the dance. Now he was as hard as a rock. His left hand slid down my flesh, slowly caressing me, as if we had all night, ignoring the existence of the cocktail party five feet away on the other side of the wall. He slowed as he traversed the gentle curve of my belly, that little pillow he liked to rest his head on. It seemed like forever, though I doubt that it was actually more than a minute before his fingertips found the hem of the little black dress and tugged it up over my thighs. As my dress rose, exposing my loins not only to the night air, but to anybody else who happened to be on the balcony, I leaned back against the wall, barely able to breathe. Then the tip of a single finger caressed my slit, easing its way inexorably upward to tease my clit.

"I love how wet you are," he breathed into my ear, the first words he had spoken to me at the cocktail party. "And I'm pleased that you knew not to wear panties."

His fingers never stopped working. He knew just how much pressure to apply so that I could just feel his fingers. I froze against the wall, unable to move even though I'm convinced that every molecule of my being was vibrating with excitement. He ran his fingers down along my labia, caressing me roughly. His long middle finger curled up and back, spreading my cheeks so that my anus gaped open in anticipation. I gasped with joy as he thrust up into my ass. I almost exploded into another climax, but held back, knowing that I should allow him to continue.

I was not disappointed. He spread his hand, fingers stretching my cunt wide, his thumb finding my clit, strumming it to the beat of the unseen quartet. He applied more pressure to my clit while thrusting his fingers deep inside my cunt. In slow circles, he rotated his thumb over my clit as he finger fucked me.

With his other hand, he found my heaving bosom, popping it free from the dress, tweaking the nipple with his fingers, and then lowering his teeth to it.

My hips started, once again, moving all on their own. I no longer knew nor cared whether every guest at the cocktail party had rushed out to check out the noise on the balcony. If they had formed a ring of admirers around me, I would not have been aware, nor cared. All I wanted was those three fingers to keep thrusting ever deeper into my womb. Each stroke built my anticipation, the waves of pleasure begging for release. I prayed for my orgasm to come quickly, yet never wanted this sex to stop.

My shoulders pinned against the brick, my back arched out as I groaned, unable to hold back my climax, flooding his fist with my juices.

Master held me like that, his hardness still encased in his pants, but pressed tight to my thigh, as I caught my breath. The music had started again, a loud number, as he stepped back. Master had given me an incredible gift, and I knew that it was my turn to return the pleasure. I dropped to my knees on the balcony, swiftly lowering his zipper. His hardness was so ready that it flopped right out as soon as the tension was relaxed.

I opened my mouth, relaxed my jaw and swallowed half of his cock in one motion, closing my lips around his shaft, my tongue and cheeks bathing his flesh hungrily. I had to hold his ass with both hands to make sure that I did not knock him over as I enthusiastically took his fullness deep into my throat.

Teasing the head gently, when I felt the familiar shiver run up his spine I began to lave the squishy head with my tongue, wetting it with my spit as I stroked it . Master groaned and I looked up at him, winking as my tongue teased his pee slit, tasting the precum leaking freely.

"Oh, you're so good at this," Master sighed, his fingers toying with my hair.

I flicked my tongue once more around his hole, and then closed my lips around his hardness, sucking the head into my mouth. Master rewarded me by spurting another taste of pre-cum into my mouth.

As always, I savoured this experience, never tiring of the glorious feeling of having Master's cock inside my mouth. Reaching inside his trousers, I found his balls and began to knead them. Time had vanished, I was locked into the narrow world of this blow-job, no longer hearing the quartet, no longer aware of my surroundings, no longer worried about the cocktail party, about who might be watching me. Thinking back on it, if I had known I had an audience, I would just have been pleased that I did my Master proud, displaying my talents to his cronies and their women, no doubt leaving them even more jealous of his superiority.

I could feel the wetness inside my mouth building as I began to slowly bob my head back and forth on his cock. I kept my tongue busy, rolling it around his flesh as I took more and more of his length inside my mouth. He watched me as I sucked him.

My fingers massaged his balls as I continued to suck him, now going from head to base, moving very slowly but very much on a mission. Then I slid a finger inside his boxers, reaching under his balls to his crack and rubbed his ass hole. His sphincter opened and I stimulated his prostate, just as he had trained me to do. He exploded and pumped his cum into my mouth. It was such a huge load that I almost passed out.

Pulling me to my feet, Master kissed me.Our tongues explored each other's mouths. We held each other closely, once again swaying, dancing to the music.

When we finally broke the kiss, Master grinned at me and said, "Thank you for making this a true cock tail party. Now let's go home and fuck. I need to fill your cunt and ass with my cum."

Magically, our driver was waiting at the gate. Master must have said our goodbyes, because I was swept away like a princess, though I barely had entered the party, not even having had a cocktail.

Yet, it was my favourite cocktail party ever.