The Dinner Party

My buddy's eyes crawled hungrily across my slave's virtually naked chest. I'd seen them flirting at the last party, seen his reaction when she'd sat upon his lap, seen where his hands had gone. I'd spoken with her about it afterwards, and I knew that she had as much sexual interest in him as he in her. Hence why I'd arranged this little dinner party, a motivation that she had initially expected; when I'd chosen the completely sheer off-shoulder black lace top for her wardrobe on this night, combined with her shortest form-fitting black miniskirt, an item which didn't fully descend below the bottom curve of her buttocks, she'd known without a doubt what I had planned this evening. Her bare ass had been quite effectively exposed as we'd watched her finish dinner preparations that evening and serve us, and her creamy breasts with their lovingly molded and painstakingly shaped, jutting raspberry nipples had been swaying before his eyes beneath their barely-existent covering all evening. The food had done little to sate his growing hunger, and the wine that followed dinner had loosened his inhibitions to the point that he no longer even tried to conceal his appreciative gaze.

Now, why would I arrange an evening such as this one was destined to be, you might ask? You see, there are few pleasures as rarefied as requiring one's lover to go utterly against her own grain. That submission which is truly savored is an unwilling submission, for anyone can submit to something that they independently desire to do. It is in requiring someone to do that which they would never choose that one tastes the most delicate flavors of submission. My slave was an utterly modest woman, which allowed me to derive great joy from forcing her to dress in a shamelessly exhibitionistic manner in public at all times, allowing me to feast constantly upon the spectacle of her struggle to cope with her near-nakedness. Similarly, she was sexually conservative and would never dream of what she knew was in store for her on this evening, never dream of being reduced to a slutty sexual dessert, a rutting party-favor. Hence, she would be a sexual service slut on this night, and that knowledge had dripped from her eyes and run down her inner thigh all evening. (She might not like what I had in mind, but the depth of her submission reduced her to a puddle.)

I was relishing the act of stretching the evening out, allowing the anticipation to maintain the flush of her cheeks; nervous anticipation is a special spice. It gave her time to think about what might lie ahead, gave the difficulty of submission the opportunity to grow, allowed her struggle to deepen, allowed me to drink the process from her eyes as dinner was slowly completed and we adjourned to the living room, full wine glasses in our hands.

I directed her to lead the way as we traversed the length of the apartment, with Bob right behind her. It was what was known as a "railroad", meaning that the rooms were laid out linearly, one after the other, with a continuous corridor from one end to the other. I'd instructed her not to adjust her skirt unless told to do so by me, which meant that it was riding very high on her ample ass by this time, pretty much to her expansive hips, leaving her white, shining ass largely uncovered and swaying in front of him as we made the transit. I knew that he couldn't help but to be responding to the sight, with plenty of time to look.

On our arrival in the living room, I directed Bob and my slave to take a seat on the couch while I put some blues on the computer. My slave, much as she was dreading what she knew to be coming, knew her place well and motioned him to sit at one end, taking her place in the middle of the couch. As I turned from the computer, I noted with satisfaction that her clinging stretch miniskirt had pretty much continued its inexorable march towards her waist when she had sat down, leaving her shaved ivory loins and ruby cleft clearly visible between her parted legs (I require her to keep her knees no less than 12 inches apart at all times when seated). Her jutting, mist-covered raspberry nipples and the glistening cream descending from that crimson cleft and sparkling down her inner thighs betrayed her, showing me that, though her mind may be struggling with the events of this night, her body was responding as expected.

I relished the small-talk which followed as we drank a couple more glasses apiece of wine and talked about the music, dinner, politics, and the myriad subjects of normalcy as we sat within that prurient tableau. Jean struggled for normalcy as Bob became increasingly comfortable, allowing his eyes to roam with less and less restraint upon her virtually-naked form. The large, thick couch/floor-pillows at either end of our futon made the fit for three people rather intimate, and the spread of Jean's knees made it even more so, especially as I made no effort to conserve space at my end; it wasn't long before his hand was firmly ensconced upon the thigh which pressed against him as we talked. I stretched the moment, drinking in the flush of my slave's cheeks and the palpable, anxious anticipation that was radiating from her face and her loins, spreading in a dark puddle upon the fabric beneath her.

Bob's eyes followed me as I changed the CD, and I could tell that he was looking for guidance. I smiled to myself as I lingered over the act, taking more time than really necessary to decide upon the CD I'd had planned all the time, pausing twice to let my smiling gaze flow across my slave's exposed body and the hand upon its thigh for Bob's benefit. No reason to be shy, my gaze said. It, I decided as the blues began to ripple anew across the room, was time.

As I returned to my seat, I instructed my slave, my wife, to fetch and open for us another bottle of wine from the kitchen. I knew without looking, as I watched her depart, that Bob's eyes were pulled as if by a magnet by her bouncing buttocks as she went upon her way, her skirt having completed its migration and quite pleasingly bunched about her waist by now. "How're you doing?" I asked, turning to him with a smile.

"Just fine," was his somewhat embarrassed reply. I could tell that he wasn't sure what the appropriate response might be.

"I do love that outfit and what it does," I said, breaking the ice explicitly for the first time. "It rides up so nicely."

There was a tangible release of tension as he replied. "I definitely approve. It's very sexy. You don't mind ...?"

"Not at all. That's what it's for. If I minded, I wouldn't have picked it out. I know you're attracted to her. That was clear at my birthday party."

We sat in silence until her return. The vision was even better from this side. Her skirt had ridden into a wide belt of midnight about her waist, leaving her obscenely naked and inviting from the waist down. From the waist up, the ethereal black mist of her top left her almost more naked than naked, and the swollen peaks of her large, manicured, erect nipples were at prominent attention.

I rose as she entered, offering her my empty wineglass to fill. As she straightened from filling Bob's glass, I leaned into her ear. "Undress," was all I whispered.

She acted as if she hadn't heard me and sat down. Raising one eyebrow, I followed. I took a sip of my wine before reacting. Bob's hand was already upon her upper thigh as I placed my lips against her ear and insisted. "Stand up and undress now. Put your clothes across the back of the chair by your desk. You will already be punished tomorrow for hesitating. Don't make it worse." The stiffening of her body showed that she understood the situation. I knew her. She would try to push any situation, even though - or maybe because of it - she would lose respect if she could get away with it. She'd been testing her limits, and tomorrow's punishment would settle the issue. She knew it would be severe, because she knew that disobedience of a direct order was not permitted. In the back of my mind, I suspected that she wanted the punishment, and that its expectation made her obedience at this moment easier. She needed to feel her unfreedom, her inability to choose or to refuse.

The short, full alabaster form rose from the futon, somewhat unsteadily from the wine (my slave didn't have much tolerance for alcohol, and I knew that she was nearing her limit). Showing that she understood full well my intent, she faced Bob as she pulled her skirt down across porcelain hips and thighs to access its zipper. Without hesitation, her shining eyes locked on his, she drew it down and worked the glistening fabric down her thighs. Stepping out of the now-useless fabric, she carried it across the room to lay it across the chair before returning to stand once again before him as she pulled the stretching lace of her top above her head, freeing her swaying, creamy breasts with the ruby tips that stretched insistently towards him. Bob was entranced as he watched the naked, raven-tressed nymph carry the tiny scrap of lace over to her chair and then return, swaying, glistening, dressed for only one purpose.

Smiling anxiously, she sat again between us. I lost no time breaking the ice as I spread her legs and buried two fingers into the burning, dripping cleft between them, pumping them slowly in and out for his benefit as she instantly began to moan. Bob turned himself toward her, taking her left breast in his right hand as his mouth descended upon hers. Her juices were a river coating my hand as he began to play with her nipple, though far more gently than she was used to. I buried a third finger in my slave's drenched hole and began to probe and massage the tender tissues within with my hand, grasping at her burning liquid walls. She began to buck upon my hand, seeking desperately to fuck herself upon the digits that had ceased to pump into her. Bob drew back from her face to feast for a smiling moment upon the lusting vision she had become, before dropping his mouth upon her right nipple and sucking hard upon it as he continued to knead the purplish nub upon her left breast.

Jean's face was glowing, visible now above Bob's head, arched backwards, her unseeing eyes fixed upon the ceiling, her mouth slack and open as she alternated between moans and grunts. Bob's right hand began to crawl slowly down her torso, its moist destination clear, so I relinquished my soft, fluid prize and redirected my attentions to the now-lonely nipple as his digits buried themselves within her molten tunnel.

Bob's face shifted as he felt me begin to pull upon her left breast. He couldn't look away as I silently showed him the capacity of the swollen red flesh upon that breast. I took the nipple rough and tight between my thumb and the side of my index finger, pinching tight and rolling at the same time, forcing a long, low guttural moan from my slave's lips. There was no mistaking, as the flesh spread beneath my grip, that I was holding nothing back, placing all of my thumb-strength into it. Then, his eyes still locked upon my hand, I stretched the purple flesh high towards the ceiling, pulling her chest with me, lifting her chest into an arc as she struggled to yield to the merciless levitation of that fleshy handle that I loved to torment. The anguished moan of pleasure that rolled from her thrown-back mouth told Bob precisely what it was that she loved. A sharp gasp followed as I released the nipple with a snap.

Free of my pinioning hand, Jean pivoted herself upon Bob's probing fingers, rolling to her right and coming to rest straddling his lap. He took the now massively-awoken left nipple in his mouth and sucked it as hard as he could as I renewed my demonstration upon her right nipple, wet with his suckling. His eyes were wide as he watched me pinch, twist, and stretch that flesh without mercy, as he heard the moans of pleasure-pain and saw her purposely pull against the clamp my hand had become, purposely increasing her own torment. Finally, he removed his mouth from her breast to speak. "Do you like that?"

"Oh, yes, very much!" was her gasped response, precisely what I had been trying to force her to reveal to my friend. "I love it!"

I turned the care of her savaged, yearning nipple over to Bob's left hand, now, and rose from the couch to take my stand behind the ass which was pumping with total abandon of modesty, decency, or inhibition upon the digits buried within her pussy, smiling at the puddle of dripping fluids forming slowly on the floor beneath that flaming cleft. "Aahhh!" burst from her as I began spanking those jiggling alabaster buttocks. Her bucking intensified as the red welts of my fingers spread across her flesh, shockingly bright in contrast to her paleness.

"Oh, yes, please, harder," she begged. I didn't know if she was talking to me or to Bob, but I redoubled my efforts until both cheeks were fully covered with glowing crimson.

Moving to her side, I could see that Bob had his mouth once again upon her right nipple, this time biting at it and stretching it long and hard between clasping teeth. I reached my right hand around her loins, sliding it into her crotch and beginning to agitate her swollen clit with my middle finger as he continued to pump into her. With my left hand, I continued to beat her hot, burning red ass as I slowly teased her into climax with my ministrations to her clit.

A long, slow scream emerged from her throat as a face long hung-forward over Bob's head, hidden beneath a curtain of long, dark hair, surged back and gave voice to her orgasm. End of phase one, I thought, as I stepped away from my handiwork and gave her my dripping finger to clean with her mouth and tongue.

I took a moment to sip my wine and admired the now-still tableau as my wife slumped upon Bob, her body still trembling from exertion and orgasm, my handiwork blazing upon her ass. I waited as they exchanged a long, deep kiss. I saw her hand descend to the bulge between his legs and I heard the metallic grind of a zipper.

She looked at me, lust dripping from her eyes like the juices glistening upon the floor beneath her. "Get on your hands and knees on the couch, your ass towards me," I instructed. Unhesitatingly, she did as instructed, any inhibition now long, long gone. Her movement revealed the swollen pillar of flesh that she had released from Bob's pants, now open wide at the waist. The position I had directed her to assume put her head directly above the furious pole emerging from his pants, and she instantly understood my intent; her hungry mouth descended upon his cock as he watched, slack-jawed and entranced.

Taking my position behind her, I pushed her legs apart and slid my long-erect cock finally into the moist, dark cavern of her pussy, thrusting deep and hard to bury myself with one brutal thrust, which her hips slammed backwards to meet. Her mouth sunk deeper, devouring the root of Bob's erection as I began to impale her groin in long, slamming thrusts. The sound of moans choked back into my slave's throat reached back to me, and I was determined to bring her to full, screaming abandon.

I removed my thrusting cock from her dripping hole for a moment, burying two fingers of my right hand and rotating them to coat them well with her plentiful lubricant. Slamming my cock back into her, I buried those fingers without ceremony or warning all the way within her brown, puckered asshole. Finger-fucking her ass as my cock slammed her pussy, I reached around her torso with my right hand and took her left nipple cruelly in my left hand. I stretched her nipple as hard and taut towards her waist as I could, pinioning it so that each brutal thrust of my cock, each slam of my body into hers, brutally forced her body to surge against her imprisoned nipple, pounding her nipple as I pounded her ass and pussy.

I could from Bob's face and hear from his gasping grunts that he was coming close to orgasm. Removing my fingers from the dark tunnel of my slave's ass, I reached around her with my right hand and began to massage the swollen nub within her inflamed slit. Bob's hands shoved Jean's mouth into his crotch, impaling her mouth as he furiously shot his load into her throat with a roar. I redoubled the intensity of my attack upon her clit and her pussy, twisting the stretched and agonized nipple at the same time. Just as Bob released the back her head, Jean's mouth came off his cock, still dripping his come from her lips as she screamed a long, loud, bestial orgasm into the air of the room. The animal roar with which she came showed that I had achieved my goal on this night, had successfully reduced her to a fucking, pure sexual animal without restraint or inhibition, without pride or shame.

A long period ensued during which Bob and I sandwiched a shaking, creature of lust between us, holding her as her trembling ceased and rational consciousness returned, holding her as tears of ecstasy coursed down her cheeks and she thanked us both over and over. "She's yours to do with as you choose any time you want. You see how she likes it.," were my only words during that time.

One final glass of wine finally concluded the evening. As Bob prepared to leave, I drove home one last time to my slave the way in which her life had changed on this night. "You understand that you are Bob's to use as he wishes, anytime and anyplace, from now on, don't you?"

"Yes, Master, I do. However, whenever, wherever he wants," she replied, sitting on the couch with her legs spread wide, her loins glistening and inflamed, his come still glistening on her cheek and hanging upon her neck and chest.

It had been a great night, and it was just the beginning.