A Fetish Party In The City Pt 02

The party doesn't really get going until a couple of hours later, when even more people arrive and someone breaks open a few bottles of champagne. Everywhere she looks, Francesca can see people chatting and smoking, drinking champagne and flirting. Exposed breasts, exposed pussies, erect penises protruding through half-open zips. People snogging while fondling each other under the clothes. People being spanked, flogged, whipped over the spanking benches. People crawling on the floor, led on a leash. Francesca herself is on a leash but Master holds the leash in his hand and she walks a step behind him, enchanted by the bacchanalia all around her.

Some people wear masks but most are happy to show their faces as well as their bodies. There's an atmosphere of trust, and also of experience. Most of the people have done this kind of party before.

In the room with the two-sided mirror, Master sits down on a faux-leather sofa and motions to Francesca to get down on the floor in front of him. She kneels, as instructed.

'You're going to suck me now,' he says, 'and I want you to lift the back of your skirt up, so that anyone who comes in to watch us can see your pussy.'

Francesca nods and gets in position. Kneeling, she leans forward towards his crotch, in expectation of his penis. She spreads her legs a little and lifts up her skirt over the back of her waist, exposing her beautifully curvy yet firm bottom. Master often tells her it's one of her best features, this bottom that's made for spanking and grabbing and biting into and fucking, on occasion.

Master puts down his champagne glass onto a coffee table and then leans back into the sofa, relaxing. He unzips and pulls out his cock, which is hard and ready for action. Francesca smiles. She loves penises of all shapes and sizes, belonging to all sorts of men, but there's no penis she loves like her Master's. It's the perfect size, neither so big that it hurts nor so small that you can't feel it, and a beautiful shape, straight with a few veins running down the shaft and with a gorgeous, thick, bulbous head she loves to put inside her mouth and her pussy. She looks at it now, erect and standing to attention, and then gives it a long lick, from the balls all the way up the shaft, finishing on the head, which she then wraps her lips around. Her Master moans. Slowly, she starts to suck him, pulling inwards, feeling the warm and velvety skin of his cock on her tongue, tasting him and the precum that's already starting to gather at the tip. She takes his cock in deeper, as far down towards her throat as she can manage. Master has closed his eyes and growls in pleasure.

Behind her, she can hear shuffling, small movements. At one point, she looks over her shoulder and realises there's a bunch of men gathered in the doorway and the entrance to the room, watching.

Master opens his eyes, looks at them and says: 'We have an audience. Good. I want them to watch. I want them to see how beautiful you look with a big cock in your mouth. Maybe in a while, you can suck all of their cocks too.'

She stops what she's doing and looks up at him. 'Will I be allowed to do that, Sir?'

'We'll see,' he says. 'If you're very good, maybe.'

After a while they stop their little performance, and the Master hasn't cum but Francesca is struggling with a desperate yearning between her legs. Giving her Master oral sex while being watched by a group of men, all of whom could see her naked pussy and backside, was unbelievably exciting. She remembers a situation when she was very young, with her first high-school boyfriend. They'd gone to spend a weekend with a friend of his, and there was a group of them, with Francesca being the only girl. When the night came, the whole group got ready to sleep in the same room. Respectfully, they gave the one big bed to Francesca and her boyfriend, while all the other boys spread around the floor in their sleeping bags. Soon after the lights had gone out, her boyfriend indicated that he wanted to fuck her. Under the covers, he took off her underwear and then mounted her, not very discreetly. Although the room was very quiet, as though everyone was asleep, Francesca felt that in fact the other boys were listening to them having sex. Today she's gripped by the same feeling of crazy excitement, of doing something deeply transgressive and taboo, of being exposed in erotic vulnerability for the benefit of everyone present.

For a change of scenery, they soon go for a walk around the house to see what the other people are doing. On the first floor landing they bump into one of the men who'd watched them during the fellatio in the room downstairs. He's dressed in black leather and has a goaty beard which is carefully trimmed. He is short but stocky and Francesca finds herself wondering what his cock is like and whether his stocky stature possibly indicates a thick, stocky penis too.

Can I play with your sub, the man asks. Master turns Francesca to face the man, then lifts up her top to expose her ample breasts. The man stares, transfixed. Then he puts one hand on Francesca's throat and with the other hand he pinches her nipple hard, until she moans in pain and pleasure. For a few minutes, they stand like that, on the landing by the stairs where people keep coming and going. Francesca leans backwards into her Master's body, which is supporting her. Her knees feel a little shaky, she's a little uncertain on her feet but whether from the champagne or her nipples being played with by this stranger, she's not sure.

The group of men who'd watched them downstairs now reassemble in this new location. They all watch, like hypnotised, as Francesca stands there with her top lifted, exposing her breast and stomach, and the man whose name she doesn't know rubs and squeezes her breasts, pinches her nipples and rubs her some more.

She is desperate for him -- for someone, anyone -- to touch her between the legs. She knows she is wet and she thinks if only she could just have someone's hand, just one finger -- just one finger inserted inside her, or if she is really lucky then someone to play with her clit for just a minute or two -- she knows she would cum in a beautiful release that would be lovely for them to watch, and would bring her back to sanity. But her Master doesn't want her to cum yet, so he doesn't invite anyone to play with her more intimately.

When Master tells the man that it's enough for now, the man and the group move on, but she feels their gaze linger on her as they walk on to the other rooms to see what other people are doing. From one of the rooms, they hear a voice that Master seems to recognise, as he changes direction and heads towards it. At the door, they're greeted by a bulky, tall man with an Eastern European accent and a slightly darker tan, like someone who spends a lot of time in the sun. Francesca remembers him suddenly: he's a guy who, earlier in the evening, was pleasuring -- or should she say torturing -- a group of women who'd lined up to join him on the bed. He seemed extremely rough and aggressive, and Francesca winced at some of the things he was doing to the women, things which looked like they definitely would be painful and not in a good way. But the women seemed to like it, and in the time Francesca and Master were watching, a few more joined the queue. Francesca remembers that afterwards Master laughed and said the man must be some kind of local BDSM celebrity, who every sub wanted to experience.

That same man is now standing in the doorway of one of the rooms, and behind him Francesca can see a woman on her back on the bed, with three men kneeling around her, with their cocks out. She shivers.

'Can I play with her?' the man asks her Master, but he's not looking at him -- his eyes are on her.

Master looks at Francesca for an answer. She's confused: do they know each other? Where from? Still, the man seemed so rough. She's not in the mood for being manhandled like that. She shakes her head.

'Sorry, bud,' Master says and the man shrugs, but not in an unfriendly way. 'Maybe a little later,' Master adds, but Francesca is already thinking no way.

The evenings rolls on. As it gets later, every room becomes darker, candles replacing overhead lights, fires being stoked in those rooms which have a fireplace. It's warm, and smells of frankincense and lavender from the incense sticks burning in little ceramic pots left around the house. The music is soft, jazzy, interspersed with the sound of laughter, chatting, women crying out in powerful vibrator-induced orgasms, men growling while releasing sperm into willing mouths, gasps and -- sometimes -- even screams of those being whipped or belted.

We're not in Kansas anymore, Francesca says to herself.

Eventually Master and she settle in one of the cosy, barely lit rooms off the main foyer on the ground floor. The room has a working fireplace and red velvet furniture -- a trio of armchairs arranged around a low coffee table -- and in the corner, a kingsize bed covered with a red velvet throw.

Master settles in one of the armchairs and motions to Francesca to stretch out over his knee, on her stomach, so that her bottom becomes accessible to him for spanking. She could cry with relief. Master never spanks her without making her cum. Finally, she is going to receive her reward, her throbbing pussy begging for someone to notice it.

The strikes on her backside are soft at first, and then gradually become sharper. She loves it, as she always does, as her Master knows exactly where to hit her cheeks so that he connects with those nerves that run all the way into her clit. When he first showed her that this direct connection exists, she couldn't believe it.

'Is this why women love spanking?' she asked him, and he said yes, but explained that most men didn't know the right spot. 'They hit too high on the buttocks,' he said, 'where there's nothing but the sting. But if you hit lower and more inwards, it's a mix of pain and real sexual pleasure, and some women can even cum from it.'

Francesca felt gutted that she could never cum from spanking alone. It seemed like it would be a delicious way to reach a climax, stretched out over Master's lap and melting under the alternate strikes and strokes of his big, strong hand.

As he always does, Master starts to play with her pussy. He strokes her clit in soft, gliding movements, running his fingertips up and down the clit and her lips, everything swollen with desire, wet and open for his hand and his cock or any other implement he feels like putting in there. Francesca realises she doesn't even know if they've brought any dildos with them. Perhaps there's something left in the bag in the cloakroom.

When he's pushed his fingers inside her, Francesca starts to visibly grind her hips against his hand. 'Please, Sir,' she whispers, but he doesn't make his movements any quicker. Her pleasure is intense but refuses to build up towards a climax.

Then the door opens and she can hear the sound of people entering the room, but very quietly, almost with reverence -- almost like when you go inside a church.

Master laughs quietly so only she can hear him. 'It's your fan group,' he says. 'They've been following us all night. Wherever we've been, they've shortly followed. I think it's time we give them a reward for their loyalty.'

A man approaches them and asks, in a whisper, if they would mind if he played with himself. Master tells him to go ahead, and from her position laid out on her stomach, while Master is still pushing inside her pussy and playing with her throbbing clit, she can see the man take out his penis and start to pull on it in rhythmic movements.

'They're all doing it,' Master tells her, as if he knows that she's bewitched by the sight of the man who's masturbating while watching her being spanked. 'There's a room full of men who are watching your naked ass and pussy and who are playing with their cocks. Do you know what they'd do to you if I wasn't here to protect you?'

Francesca shivers. Yes, the way he puts it sounds scary, but he's only saying it that way because he knows she enjoys a sliver of fear now and then. Nothing would happen to her at the party, not really. Everyone here is safe, vouched for, vetted. But if the Master was to give them permission, invite them to come forward and use her? Well, that would be a different story.

Then the same man who was pinching her nipples on the landing comes over and asks if he can spank Francesca. 'If now's a good time,' he adds, as if he's asking if he can come over for a cup of tea.

Master agrees and the man swaps with him on the armchair. When he's settled in, Francesca gives him a good look, as if to say don't try anything funny. But his face looks open and honest and very -- very -- pleased. It's clear he's been waiting for this moment all night. Francesca wonders if he's been playing with other women or if he's just been counting minutes until some unspoken but socially acceptable moment to ask if he can play with her again.

She positions herself over the man's lap, the way she was earlier over her Master's. She thinks she can almost sense the excitement of the other men in the room, watching, playing with themselves -- she can almost hear a collective gasp, when this man -- a stranger -- starts to spank her. She has become available now. The spanking by the stranger has signalled that she is here to be used, and her Master will let them use her. Francesca feels the slick wetness between her legs and wonders how long it'll take before something really happens.

After he's been spanking her for a few minutes -- not very expertly, she had to admit; he's got small hands and is just slapping her butt cheeks without much success, never fully connecting to create that deeper impact where true pleasure lies -- he asks her Master quietly, 'May I?' She doesn't know what he means by that but a moment later she realises, when the men's fingers enter her vagina from behind. He pushes in suddenly and hard, and she flinches as it hurts and she wasn't expecting it.

'Sorry,' the man says quickly. 'I didn't mean to hurt you. Are you happy to continue?'

Francesca consents. The man enters her again, this time slower, more smoothly. She holds her breath until his fingers are fully inside her then, realising he is more settled now, she tries to relax. He starts to push them in and pull them out, just two fingers, but she feels quite full from this, quite stretched. Soon, her arousal comes back, having been interrupted by the brief pain. After a while, he increases the intensity and starts fucking her faster with his fingers. Francesca hears panting, a woman's voice, quite breathless. She realises it's her own voice, but everything feels so far, so surreal.

Then she hears her Master's voice.

'That's enough now,' he says to the man. 'Sub,' he continues, addressing her, 'I want you to get up off there and go and lie down on that bed. But first I want you to take the rest of your clothes off. I want you to be completely naked. Remove your shoes, too.'

Francesca is wearing a pair of stiletto platforms with a 6-inch heel, like a stripper in a gentleman's club. She doesn't really want to take the shoes off, but she knows why her Master is asking for it: the heel is unusually spiky and could really hurt someone, in the middle of a tangle.

'What we're going to do then,' Master continues, always in control, not just of her but of all the men in the room waiting with bated breath to see what this Alpha male will let them do to his submissive, 'what we're going to do is we're going to reward these gentlemen for their patience tonight. They've been waiting for hours for something concrete to happen, and now we're going to give it to them,' he says. 'Or rather, sub, you are going to give it to them.'

As instructed, Francesca stands up and smooths down her clothes, then remembers that she's supposed to take everything off. Standing, a little awkwardly, in the middle of the room, with all eyes on her, she takes off her see-through top, her schoolgirl skirt, shoes and then finally stockings and suspenders. She straightens up, fully naked, completely exposed to their eyes and soon, their hands and cocks. She is trembling, from desire and fear and excitement and delicious humiliation of being just an object, not belonging to herself anymore, but belonging to them -- all of them -- to use for the rest of the night, if they so wish.

'But,' says her Master, in a sudden change of tone, sounding amused and pleased with himself, 'you boys are not going to fuck her. Not yet, in any case. We'll see about later. For now, I'm happy for you all to join her on the bed, you can finger her and play with her pussy as much as you want, you can masturbate and cum over her, but I don't want your cocks anywhere inside her. Not her mout

h, not her cunt. Only your fingers. Do you understand?'

The men all nod and murmur under their breath.

Francesca walks over to the bed, climbs on and then slowly lies down on her back, stretching her limbs, getting comfortable, getting ready for what comes.

And what comes is every bit as gorgeous as she'd thought it would be.

The men surround her, with unzipped trousers half pulled down their thighs, cocks pointed at her. They run their hands up and down her body, almost with a desperation, not allowed to do the one thing they really want, to ravish her and impale her on their penises until they've all offloaded their cum into her sweet, tight pussy, but they're not allowed -- her Master did not give the green light. So instead, they push fingers into her, they fuck her with their fingers mercilessly and roughly, pulling her legs apart and holding her legs up by her ankles until she's spread wide open and then pushing in fingers hard and deep and fucking furiously, as if to take revenge for what hasn't been allowed to them. Francesca cums once, twice, three times, eventually she loses count of her orgasms. The men cum too, sprays of cum all over her belly, her thighs, on her pussy, on her breasts and nipples. The men stroke her and spread the cum over her skin and make her lick their hands, pushing their fingers into her mouth, then more fingers into her pussy, into her anus, pushing and stretching until she comes again, and again, and again.

She doesn't know if she can say it to her Master but, it's probably the best night of her life.

But then, why should she be shy to tell him? Isn't this all his doing in the first place?