The Longest Night of the Year

"Of course," she said. Her owner would see Amelia join the group and would therefore know she was alone. She found a spot against the wall and leaned back. She swayed a bit to move the chain and the ornament against her cunt, clenching and unclenching her ass around the plug. Being decorated in this way, trimmed like a tree, was incredibly arousing. Her eyes half closed, she drifted a little.

But she snapped to attention at a voice close by and a hand on her upper arm. It was Alan again. "Are you in a better mood now?" he asked, sounding inebriated already.

"My mood is none of your business," she snapped. "And take your hand off me."

"Whoa," he said loudly, laughing and pulling her a little off balance. "Somebody's got an attitude!" He reached for her ass.

She pushed him. "Take your hands off me this second!" she said in a ringing voice. "Get the hell away from me." Heads turned, and he let her go, stepping back. Two men in ill-fitting suits started heading their way. "Oh, fuck off," he said, and turned. One of the two men took him by the arm while the other asked the slave, "Are you OK?"

"Yes, thank you. I'm fine," she said.

"He's being escorted out," the security man said. "I'm sorry about that. Is there anything we can get you?"

"No, thanks," she said. He left to accompany his partner to the door with the lout between them.

She wasn't actually fine. She was shaken. She'd thought she was in a safe space, but she'd just come rather close to having a stranger — a rude, misogynistic stranger — discover what was, and wasn't, under her clothes.

She shifted her shawl from her shoulders to her left arm, and held it front of her, concealing her hand as she held the ornament through the fabric of her skirt. She walked quickly to where her owner was standing.

"Robert," she said. He turned, surprised. She turned her right hand palm upward in a distress sign. "Can I talk to you?"

"Of course," he said, turning to her and drawing her away from the group. "What's wrong?"

"Alan," she spit. "That creep grabbed me and tried to get his hands on my ass. Security got rid of him, but can we please leave?" Her tone was anything but submissive, but in situations like this she was allowed to do whatever was necessary, and the distress gesture was essentially a situational safeword.

"Give me a moment," he said. "Amelia?" The executive stepped over to them. "Please find out who 'Alan' is, and if he works for us, open an HR case for harassment." Amelia's eyebrows rose. "What happened? Are you all right?" she asked, noticing the slave's change in tone and demeanor.

"She's fine, but he basically assaulted her," said her owner. "Ask security — they removed him — but we need to leave." Amelia nodded, considering how to handle the investor. "No problem," she said. "I'll handle it. I'll call you tomorrow."

He nodded, and took his slave by the arm. "Let's walk quickly," he said, so she continued holding the ornament as they went to get their coats. She let it drop back to hang between her legs as he helped her on with her coat, and feeling more comfortable and protected, began to relax into her owner's control. They left the club, now walking slowly as she carefully managed the decoration between her legs.

It was cold, and he held her against him, shielding her from the wind, as they waited for the car. When it arrived, she got in smoothly — she was getting better at this. He got in, and took her in his arms. "I am so sorry, love," he said. "I did not expect that."

"It's not your fault," she said, again disregarding proper form, but knowing her owner would understand. "Thank you for taking care of me. Please just hold me."

He did, stroking her hair as she lay her head in his lap. She was turned so that the ball dangled sideways from the chain, and she kept her hips placed so as not to crush it between them. Focusing on this kind of slave duty helped her feel safe and centered, calming her. He continued to hold her as her breath slowed.

"Master, I realize that my tone and behavior earlier were not what you expect from your slave," she said.

"You did exactly the right thing," he said. "You're my slave, not a mindless plaything. I trust your submission because I know what you're capable of and know that you can handle yourself. I'm actually very proud of you."

Their dinner reservation wasn't for another couple of hours. He knew that she had a soft spot for Christmas pageantry, so he asked, "How about we go up to Rockefeller Center?"

"Oh, yes," she said delightedly. "Thank you, Master." She raised her head and sat back, lifting her skirt and coat properly and sitting on the fresh cloth, spreading her legs.

He stroked them, raising her skirt. She lifted to him and started to grow very wet again. He fondled the chain, pulled it gently, circled her clit with his fingers. She moaned.

He leaned her forward to remove her coat, then put the cushion on the floor. "Kneel," he said. She complied, glad to be able to relax further into his ownership. He unbuttoned her blouse and removed it. "Take off your bra," he said. She reached behind her to unclasp it and handed it to him. He pulled her face to his crotch without opening his pants, and she nuzzled his cock as he stroked her hair and her breasts.

Finally the traffic eased a bit, and she lost her balance momentarily when the car stopped sharply, avoiding a taxi cutting into lane. He told her to sit up and get back in her seat. He buckled their belts, spread her legs wider, and played with her until the fresh towel was almost as wet as the last one. "You are not to come," he reminded her.

"Yes, Master," she said. "That feels so good, sir. Just this. Thank you." She lay her head back, closed her eyes, spread herself wider, and let his fingers take her mind away.

IV

The car finally pulled up on the side street near the giant Christmas tree. "We're here," he said, and she opened her eyes, roused from her dozing and drifting on the pleasure that had never built to orgasm.

"On your knees," he said, and she obeyed. "Spread your legs wider and hold up your skirt." She did so, and he used the cloth to wipe her juices. "We'll need to get you some water soon," he said.

"Yes, sir, thank you," she replied. He held her blouse and she put it back on. He buttoned it up just barely enough to cover her naked breasts. Her bra remained on the seat next to him. He helped her on with her coat, then opened his door and came around to her side, helping her out.

The night was still cold, and she was wearing even less than she had been earlier. They stood and looked at the tree for a while, and he embraced her, his hand sliding under her coat, raising her skirt, and tapping her holiday decoration. "You're a lot more beautiful than the tree," he said, removing his hand and pulling her skirt back down.

"Oh, Master," she sighed. But she was starting to shiver. Her wetness was giving her a chill, and the metal between her legs and in her ass was beginning to transmit the cold. He felt her trembling and guided her inside to the cafe, where he sat her down and ordered hot chocolate. He brought her a bottle of water as well, telling her to drink it all before having any of the chocolate.

For the first time this evening, she was sitting on her skirt. Her owner would not permit her to expose herself in public or sit her bare ass on a cafe seat. She was quite wet, and glad for the slip and the lining in the skirt. He held her hand as they watched the skaters and drank their chocolate.

"I made a bad call with the party," he said after a while. "I should have known that people who are annoying in the office can get downright dangerous in a bar. When I saw that Amelia had left you I should have done something right away."

"I thought I was safe," she said. "I figured Amelia knew what she was doing."

"I'll talk to her about that, but the bottom line is that you were left in a dangerous situation while I was doing business. I won't let that happen again."

"Thank you, Master," she said. "I wish it hadn't happened, but Sir, I trust you. I knew I could come to you, and you did exactly the right thing. I was upset and angry but I still knew that I was your property. I still knew that your slave would be your first priority. I always know that. I always know I'm your slave, and I always know what that means. Thank you."

He kissed her deeply in response.

On the way to the restaurant, she was bent over on her knees on the facing seat, her skirt raised to her waist to expose her ass. He stroked her legs, played with the chain, tugging it so that her clit hood stretched a little. He penetrated her cunt, then removed her plug and inserted his fingers into her ass. He worked her ass thoroughly, then inserted his thumb into her vagina and squeezed. He continued tugging on the plug he held in his hand, moving the chain against her cunt. She was moaning and gasping.

"Master, may I come?" she asked.

"No, pet," he said, removing his fingers. He reached for the bottle of lube in one of the drink holders and squeezed some onto the plug, and inserted it back into her ass. "Sit back up here," he said. "We're almost there. You'll be on strict rules until I say otherwise." She lowered her eyes. He held his fingers to her mouth and she licked them clean, and he wiped them on a cloth.

At the restaurant, he led her inside to the coat check and then to their table. She saw very little of her surroundings, trusting her owner to guide her. He spread a cloth on her seat, and knowing what that meant, she raised her skirt and sat, trusting that her owner was sure no one could see her briefly expose herself.

Her Master ordered still water, filled her glass and ordered her to drink it all. She kept her eyes down as the waiter came to the table and explained the specials. Her owner ordered for the both of them, then took her hand. "How are you feeling?" he asked gently. "Calmer," she said, eyes still down. "This quiet feels good, Master." He held her hand until the food came.

He arranged his napkin and picked up his silverware, but she kept he hands in her lap until he said, "You may begin." She picked up her utensils to eat, keeping her eyes on her plate, speaking only when spoken to. This was the kind of public display of her slavery that her Master enjoyed. Nothing explicit or shocking, just a level of submissiveness that had probably gotten a second glance from the waiter. That thought made her wetter.

After five minutes or so, her owner lifted her chin, releasing the restrictions on her behavior. She smiled at him and looked around. They were at a corner table in the back of a dark restaurant. No one was sitting near them. She felt his hand on her knee and opened her legs wider, so that her legs were almost straddling the seat.

They talked as they ate, his hands occasionally slipping under the table and up her skirt. She was very wet and glad for the cloth under her naked cunt. She could also feel the latest application of lube squeezing out of her ass around the plug. She drank another full glass of water at her owner's instruction and asked permission to use the bathroom again.

"Yes, you may," he said. "No touching except for the tissue, and make sure to hold the ornament out of the way."

"Yes, sir," she said. She walked slowly to the bathroom, raised her skirt and held the ornament as her water flowed. She cleaned herself, obediently not touching herself, washed her hands, and returned to the table.

They concluded their meal, and left the restaurant, this time with her allowed to look around. He again draped her coat over her shoulders, and, with his coat over his arm, they left the restaurant and got back into the car to head to his house upstate.

While the car crawled through holiday traffic, she was on her knees facing him. He unzipped and removed her skirt, leaving her in only the thin blouse and her slip. He unzipped his own pants and she sucked him while he removed the subtle collar and replaced it with the leather collar with the heavy rings. He fondled her nipples through her blouse as she sucked, but chose not to come, instead lifting her head as they neared the highway.

From a compartment in the door, he removed a large ring gag. She opened her mouth without being told, and he inserted it carefully. It was leather or vinyl or something else with a little give, thankfully, because it pressed hard against her lips and spread her mouth wide. He pulled her head down again; this gag was large so that he could continue using her mouth. She was no longer able to give him a proper blowjob, so he fucked her mouth, gently, until he came. His come spilled out of the gag — she could not control that — but he scooped it up with his fingers and spread it on her face, then inserted his fingers into her mouth for her to lick.

They were almost at the highway. "Back up on the seat," he said, and she sat down for him to buckle her in. He took her hands, clipped her watchband and bracelet together, and attached them to something above her head. He then reached down and clipped the straps on her boots to something on the front of the seat. She was restrained and spread wide, her hands above her head, as the car swung onto the highway. He must trust this driver.

Drool flowed down her chin onto her breasts and her blouse. His fingers went into her cunt, into her mouth, pulled her nipples, played with her clit. He took a dildo out of the side pocket and fucked her alternately in her cunt and mouth until she was screaming. She looked at him but he shook his head. "Not yet," he said. He pushed the dildo in and out of her cunt, then turned a switch on the back. It was a vibrator. He slowly turned it up, looking her in the eyes. She begged wordlessly through the gag. He turned it back down. She begged harder, crying. He withdrew it and teased her clit with it on the lowest setting. Her moaning was continuous.

"Keep begging, slut," he said, moving the tip of the vibrator along her cunt lips. Her wordless pleas became more urgent and she kept trying to raise her cunt to the vibrator.

Finally he plunged it back into her, hard enough to hurt. She screamed, and he turned it up. "Now you can come, slut," he said. "Come for me." She let herself go, screaming and thrashing and lifting her hips so that she was almost lying straight out. The fingers of his other hand began pushing on her plug in her ass and that triggered a second, more violent, wave.

"Good girl," he said, as she relaxed back down onto the seat. She panted, and attempted to say "Thank you, Master" through the gag. Her shirt was completely soaked. Her wrists were scraped and sore from the metal restraints that were much less forgiving than her usual leather cuffs. Her face was running with tears, snot and drool.

"You're such a slut, aren't you?" he said. "Yes Master, I am," she mumbled through the gag. "You want more, don't you?" She nodded and tried to say "Please, Master." He smiled. "Perhaps I'll allow you a clit orgasm." He released her hands from the overhead hook, keeping them cuffed together, and placed them in her lap. Her slip was up around her waist, her legs spread, and her hands a few inches a way from her soaking, aching cunt. But she knew better than to touch herself.

She pleaded with her eyes, mumbled "Please" through her gag, raised and clasped her hands in the prayer-like begging gesture. He lowered her hands back to her lap, but held the chain between them. "You may play with your clit, and only your clit," he said. She nodded, "Yes Master, yes, yes." He released the chain and she let her fingers began to circle her clit. The chain was both an obstacle and a stimulation. She could rub it directly on her clit, move it aside and push her clit into it, or squeeze from both sides. She closed her eyes, began to moan. Her fingers moved faster, she lifted her hips and shuddered, and fell back. "One," she said.

"Good girl," her Master said. She held her hands still, and looked at him. "You can keep going, slut," he said. Her attempt to thank him turned into a moan as her fingers began moving again. This one was quicker but less intense. She twisted and groaned, and said "Two."

"Very nice," he said. She was just touching her clit lightly. Carefully and slowly through the gag, she asked, "Master. May. I. Touch. My. Lips?" He looked at her, and she raised her hands again to beg. He grasped the inside of her thigh tightly, right in her crotch. The side of his hand was against her cunt, his fingers digging into her thigh next to where the ornament rested. "Go ahead," he said, "but stay away from your opening. Do not touch my fingertips."

With a wordless moan of thanks, she spread her lips and began running her fingers along them, brushing against his hand but staying carefully above his fingertips. Her lips were so wet, so slick, so soft, and the metal chain between them magnified everything. She stroked them and circled her clit, pressed down harder, and then her hips bucked and she screamed "Three." Her hands moved up and down faster and she kept thrashing and thrusting her hips. "Four," she panted, and fell back. "Maybe five. I'm not sure."

He kissed her deeply and tightened her seatbelt. "What an amazing slut you are," he said. He leaned back, his hand still on her thigh, and she continued to play, gently and slowly, exploring the chain, moving the ring in her piercing up and down, never going down too low. She was in a daze, her head to the side, looking out the window, a string of drool running down her chin.

She shuddered softly a few times, and he suspected that might have been six or seven, but she probably didn't know either and that was just fine. Her fingers slowed and she napped. Occasionally her fingers would move again and a soft cry would escape her lips, but soon she was sleeping for real.

Her eyes opened when the car stopped at the bottom of the exit ramp. She looked at her Master and made a questioning noise through her gag. "No," he said. "We still have at least an hour to go. She looked at the cushion and he shook his head. "These are country roads." She nodded.

He took her hands away from her cunt and clipped the chain to her collar. Her wrists were raw, so she clasped her collar with her hands to take the weight off. She looked at him because this was normally not allowed, but he kissed her forehead. He laid his head back and closed his eyes.

She watched the trees go by, swaying as the car rounded curves, the ornament rolling back and forth between her legs, moving the chain, tantalizing her. Her hands were locked, her legs held open, and the seatbelt held her firmly in place. She had nothing to do but look out the window and drool.

They stopped at a light in a small town, and in the glare of a gas station's gigantic sign, he unbuckled her seat belt. "Lift up," he said, and reached beneath her. It turned out that there was more than one cloth beneath her. On top of the usual towel-sized cloth, there was a smaller, softer cloth, almost like a large handkerchief, soaking wet. He pulled this away, and rebuckled her seat belt. "Head back," he said, and balled the cloth up and squeezed it over her face. Drips of herself ran down her cheeks, and then he slowly fed the cloth through the hole in her gag until no more would fit.

The taste and scent of her filled her mouth. There was a faint taste of lube that had leaked out of her ass. There was a hint of urine, so she must have let some go at some point. There was sweat. But most of all there was her cunt, her juices now not just wiped there, but stuffed in until her cheeks bulged.

He unlocked her hands from her collar and she lay back, her hands in her lap again. She was too spent to play with herself, but instead gently stroked and rolled the ornament between her legs. It moved on its chain and she thought of the beautiful ornaments hanging from the Rockefeller Center tree. Hers wasn't as big, but she was very proud of it.