An Afternoon in Paris

I could feel the curious eyes of every person on the street upon me, as he led me out the door by my leash. The light breeze carried the heady scent of sex I wore with every step I made. The two nameless voyeurs, my Master pointed out, were still standing across the street, as if they knew we would only be a short while in the hotel. They had waited just to see me, and had perhaps even considered propositioning for the chance to share me.

"You know," he said, stopping suddenly in the middle of the block, "it's rather impolite for you to just walk away after teasing them so relentlessly."

Following the tug of the long leather strap, I crossed the street behind him. No words were spoken in his negotiation. I simply carried on, down the short block into a dark alley, and dropped to my knees.

I reached out to unzip the first man. With my head bowed in my submission, I had no idea what he looked like, aside from the blurry view I caught of them during my spanking.

Clamping my lips over the huge head of his cock, I sucked him deep into my mouth, pulling him toward the back of my throat with my lips and tongue. A pair of hands closed around my head, guiding me along the thick, heated rod, and I could only guess by the force of the pressure against my scalp that it wasn't my Master's fingers that were entwined in my tosseled hair.

Balls pressed against my chin, the stranger pumped his cock, increasing his speed with each thrust. I could feel the crush of his pubic hair against my face, suffocating me as I continued to suck.

As I clutched the man's knees to support myself and draw him as deeply as I could into my throat, my back arched, then stiffened, succombing to the wave of ecstasy that began its crest through my cunt. Just knowing that my Master kept a very close eye on every movement I made pleasured me into a state of blinding bliss.

Without warning, I felt a hot rush spill down my throat, coating me with the delicious taste of his cum. As his pace slowed and his arousal softened in his release, I slowly eased my lips away to lick away the last drops of his load.

Before I had the chance to catch my breath, the second man rammed his short phallus between my open lips. His rhythm was much more intense, and he pounded fiercly, prodding my mouth with quick, awkward jabs. As my head bobbed ever quicker to keep up with his pace, I felt a finger pressing tightly against my clit.

Sucking ever so earnestly, I waited for the second man to erupt. My mouth moved in time with my hips, grinding against the finger that stroked me. Nipples pressed against the rough denim-covered thighs, I thought I might collapse from the over-stimulation of the entire afternoon.

Wave after wave of electric shock streamed through my cunt, and I guzzled the salty liquid from the head of his cock like a woman who had been stranded in the dessert for a month. Then, just as quickly as he came, he drew back from my mouth and zipped his pants.

I could hear the echo of their footsteps grow distant, while I dropped to the cold concrete. The tremors of my orgasm still continued to rattle, as I felt his gentle hands under my arms, lifting me to stand against him.

Still, he didn't say a word. He simply led me down the alley and back to the street as if nothing had happened.

Strolling ever so slowly, he swung my leash to and fro, accentuating my role in his life to every person who crossed our path. I had no idea where he planned to take me next. For all I knew, he had planned to drop me at my hotel, forcing me to return to my room wearing the details of our time together.

He turned sharply, taking me with him, and placed my hand on the railing which lined the stairs into the metro station. Mindful of the heels I wore, he warned me to watch my steps, as I sluggishly moved along behind him.

Closing my fingers around the entry ticket, he gave my hand a gentle squeeze. He permitted me to look up, but not into his eyes, as I passed through the turnstile, then released my hand and continued on, swaying the leather strip attached to my collar.

While the train pulled into the station, he assured me that we had to transfer only once, then stood behind me to brace my weary frame as I climbed into the car. As I settled into a seat near the window, I could sense once again that all eyes were on me.

After a short ride of two stops, he squeezed my shoulder, signaling me to stand. As he sauntered through the maze of tunnels, making each turn with a sense of direction comprable to a native Parisian, I clomped along clumsily, too tired to return to my consideration for the rest of the afternoon. My clit was still swollen, waiting for his touch, and my breasts ached to feel the clench of his pinch again.

When at last we found the appropirate platform, he took my head in his hands. "We're almost there."

The second ride was a lengthy one, and drowsiness began to consume me. I placed my head against the cold window, hoping the chill would keep me awake. Behind me I could hear the whispers of a group of teenagers who were discussing my leash and the apparent string of cum that had dried in my hair. Living in Paris during my junior year of college taught me all sorts of sordid phrases, and I could understand every descriptive word that colored their conversation of my appearance.

He recounted each stare -- every bawdy comment and sinister snicker -- as he walked me out of the station, reminding me again of my willfull disregard for his orders. I would never, I promised, neglect to bring my toys again, even if it meant a lenghty conversation with airport security. I would simply explain that my Master insisted I bring my various items of sexual paraphenalia with me, and face whatever consequences befell me.

When we reached the top step, I could clearly see the Arc de Triomphe, and I knew without question that he planned to walk me down the Champs Elysees, which was perhaps the most densely crowded boulevards in Paris. On that particular spring afternoon, it seemed as if half of the population of the world had decided to walk that very street.

I lost count of the flashes that seemed to illuminate from every corner, and I knew without doubt that someone -- from somewhere -- had likely caught my image, albeit unintentionally, on film. However, I simply lost the concern to care. My feet were hurting, nearing numbness in the three-inch heels, and my ass was so sore that the swoop of my skirt heightened my discomfort. Covered in cum, I continued along, thankful that he allowed me to bow my head from the countless watchful eyes and lustful stares.

Yet I trudged on, following the leash for several blocks. My sense of the surroundings I knew so well dissipated in the spring air.

All the while, he marked our path, telling me which landmarks we had passed. I noted that his pace seemed to slacken when we walked in front of the American Embassy. I could only imagine the thoughts that might have been rolling through the minds of my fellow countrymen as they passed through the doors, and for a moment I wondered if that was perhaps where he planned to take me.

However, he tugged me along, and as we crossed Place de la Concord, my feet dragged against the stones that filled the vast, old square. More people. More cameras. The spotlight was totally on me -- or at least so I thought in my weakening state.

Then, he stopped again in front of the elegant facade of what appeared to have once been a palace, and said, "You may lift your head now."

As we stepped into the exquisite marble lobby, which was crowded with women donning fine Chanel suits and hordes of coifed businessmen from around the world, he whispered in my ear, "Good girl."

I had never been so acutely aware of my surroundings, as I scuffed over the polished floors, commanding the looks of repulsion from piercing eyes. My nipples were extended, poking vividly through the sheer white blouse. The dew of my desire continued to gush beneath my skirt, and the stench from my cunt blatantly revealed to everyone in the lobby how I'd spent the day.

In the empty elevator, he looked into my eyes. "Have you learned your lesson?"

"Yes, I have."

"Good. Now you'll call your friends, and tell them that they'll have dinner without you this evening -- that you met up with a captivating man in your exploration of the city today."

He didn't release my leash until we stopped in front of the door to his room, and once inside. The contrast of the fine eighteenth century furnishings to my sordid state comforted me. Yet my guilt in my disobedience still continued to weigh heavily upon my soul. I didn't deserve to be here now -- to revel in such luxury with such a caring man.

I began to think about the afternoon, with scene after scene rolling vividly though my mind. I envisioned what I might have looked like, standing high above the city and convulsing with orgasm as he gripped my nipple in his arousing clutch. Then I remembered the men. It was almost as if I had chosen them myself, having so brazenly performed for them from the open window of that sordid hotel. I could still feel their cocks in my mouth, could still taste the cum upon my lips.

Then, I felt the appeasing touch of hands upon me, assuaging my guilt and assuring me that my misbehavior -- while not forgotten -- was just another distant memory of the afternoon.

Methodically, his fingers worked over each button of my blouse. After he slipped the garment frm my shoulders, I turned instinctively to allow him access to the zipper of my skirt.

Looping my waist with his arm, he helped me into the bedroom, turned down the comforter and eased me down to the sheets. He stroked my hair, telling me to rest, then left the room quietly.

Only moments had passed before he returned, but it seemed as if he had been gone for hours. "Just relax," he murmured, rubbing a handful of lotion into the welts on my ass. "That's a good girl. I'll wake you in time to dress for dinner, but for now, go to sleep."

Beneath his hands, which sothed away the sting of his spanking, I fell into deep, peaceful slumber, knowing that I would awaken in his bed.