Matthew had nothing but a close-up view of the shining steel heel of my stiletto. He was on the ground, chin to the floor, hoping for a token lick or maybe even the chance to start worshipping up my taut legs, now in fishnets. He was yearning, I know, to lick slowly up the back of my calves, following the seam, inching closer and closer up toward my thigh and eventually finding his head under my rubber skirt.
Nope, it wasn't going to happen. I left him there, not releasing him from that position, as I finished my hair and makeup. My favorite music was playing in the background, my girlfriends were soon to arrive, and Matthew had no idea what kind of a night I had planned for him.
All he knew was that I had spent 2 hours getting ready, was dressed in my tightest, sexiest fetish outfit and he was wearing nothing but a skin tight black latex pair of briefs. He probably knew that meant I was taking him to some sort of a fetish event, because he knew I liked to show off his body.
I was quite proud of Matthew, and all the other femdoms would stare at him. The male subs, often not nearly in the shape he was, would acknowledge him with a sense of envy and jealousy - not only for his own charisma, but for being on the end of my leash.
Matthew knew that if I had him dressed like a piece of slut property that meant I was going to take him somewhere on the edge, and the fact that I had a select group of friends meant he might be "shared" as the evening went on.
In addition, I had shaved his cock and balls freshly and had him in chastity for two weeks leading up to the evening of note. He was desperately hard in his CB-3000, especially after having to service me orally twice a day at the snap of my fingers. Matthew was suffering, indeed, and the mere sight of his pleading blue eyes served to make me even more wet.
When I heard the car in the driveway I leaned down with a gloved hand and fastened the leash onto Matthew's collar, prompting him to stand up. He towered over me, easily, most of the time, but this time I was in 6 inch heels and we were closer in height. I loved to see him this way; all the masculinity, all the machoness, all the cockiness, all the self-assured easy-goingness was gone from him.
He was like a nervous teenager all over again.
I tugged on his leash, smiled, and said, "The ladies are waiting. I must tell you, a good man is hard to find."
**
I let those words resonate with him for the entire drive to the secret party. I knew he would analyze them, wondering if there was some hidden meaning. Or, maybe, it was just a simple compliment.
Matthew was in his assigned position in the backseat - sprawled across the floor over our feet to keep our legs warm. It was uncomfortable for him because of his size, and we'd take turns slipping off our shoes and tickling him with our toes. I was positioned so that my feet were under his crotch, and I had long before mastered the ability to get him rock hard by masturbating him with my toes and feet. I could curl my soft, dainty soles around his cock and stroke up and down better than most women could give a hand job. It drove him crazy.
Carrie was sitting next to me, giggling, amused at him. She idly at times put her toes in his mouth and made him suck. Often she did this while we were in deep conversation. The two friends of mine in the front seat were chatting away with us also, and it was like four close girlfriends doing what they do best while Matthew was a side note, an object, just like a pet sprawled at the bottom of the car.
Except, he was being forced to suck toes and being masturbated by my feet. He knew his role, though, and that was to keep quiet.
The ladies and I talked as if he wasn't there. We talked about shopping, about shoes, about our latest office gossip, about our latest orgasms, about various sexual events. We didn't mind talking about our pussies in front of Matthew, our fantasies in front of Matthew, or even Matthew in front of Matthew. Quite often we talked all about Matthew.
