Apt 9 Dinner And A Show

Tags: Fsub, Fdom, Mdom, Reluctant, Edging, Denial

Dinner that evening was a glazed, roasted pork belly, coated in a reduced hoisin sauce, and garnished with spring onions and sesame seeds. Served on a bed of pilau rice, and with a lime juice dressed leafy salad on the side. Cristina has a knack for Asian-inspired dishes.

These dinner exchanges had started as a simple, one-off invitation - a way of us thanking Cristina for her support while I've been renovating our apartment. Raul's been working and staying overnight in Barcelona several days each week, so recently it's mostly been me doing it. She's been invaluable company and distraction for me.

That first dinner evolved into a friendly culinary competition between Raul and Cristina. They're very similar people - good cooks, obviously, but also more than a little competitive. Both are around the same age, a decade older than me. Both professionally successful. They're both quite bossy, and used to being in charge.

I can't cook, at least not to their standard, and I was not about to embarrass myself by competing with them, so I played my part by serving and clearing the food and drinks. After a couple of dinners together, and initially as a joke, I'd worn my "waitress outfit" (that's Raul's name for it now). A plain black, knee-length skirt; a short black apron; a plain white blouse and a narrow black tie.

Cristina gave me and my outfit a curious smile and very slowly and deliberately looked me up and down. She didn't comment, but I saw her smile and raise an eyebrow to Raul, who returned the same look to her.

We sat together and we ate, and we drank, and we chatted the evening away. The only lull in the conversation was as I took the plates away to the kitchen. I returned with the coffee pot, and went around the table to pour for everyone.

"Elena, you've spilled sauce on your skirt!". Cristina, being always immaculate, was bound to be the one who noticed.

"Has she always been a little clumsy?"

Raul gave a half-laugh and a "Yes" before he could stop himself.

Mildly annoyed at my own mistake I twisted around to find the offending stain.

"Turn around, conejito, let me see."

I turned on the spot, with my back to him.

"Wow. You're covered in it, Elena! How did you do that? Don't you get that on Cristina's furniture!"

The thought of staining her chairs or couch had me wide-eyed immediately. I doubt either Christina or I would ever get over that.

"Oh, it'll be fine. Just slip your skirt off before you mark my chair, girl." That wasn't a question or an invitation, it was an instruction.

Raul sat impassively as I looked to him for salvation. He gave the smallest of shrugs, and looked back at me. The atmosphere had changed. They were both now silently watching me, waiting to see what I'd do. I felt guilty, and awkward, and under scrutiny from the two of them. I searched for any sign of them about to burst into laughter at a prank well played, but after several seconds they both simply sat motionless. Watching me.

This wasn't our apartment. I had no change of clothes, and Cristina made no move to offer any. I should go back to ours and change.

I turned towards the doorway and Raul stopped me.

"Where are you going, conejito?"

"To change...? At ours."

Cristina laughed, "Oh no. Don't be so foolish. It's only us here, and you have your apron anyway."

"Don't be silly. Just take it off and sit with us."

Raul with the instruction. His commanding voice. He'd used it before, but not with company, if you see what I mean.

They were right though. It was just us. And I did have the apron. But even so... The atmosphere had shifted.

I cautiously unzipped the skirt at the back, and shuffled it over my hips, trying to ensure the apron kept me covered as much as it ever would. I didn't let the skirt fall to the floor, but folded it neatly inside out and placed it under my chair. Minutes later we were all sat around the table again, with the skirt already forgotten.

"Is there any more coffee, Elena?"

"Oh for me too, please."

This hadn't occurred to me. My apron only covered my front. I'd have to walk to Cristina's kitchen with my knickers on display. I was being silly, it is only the three of us after all. I gathered the empty coffee pot and milk jug and walked to the kitchen, only slightly faster than I might otherwise have done.

On my return Raul was standing beside Cristina, and they were looking at something on her phone. Both looked up in unison, and smiled.

I brought the coffee around the table to them, catching a fleeting glimpse of a black and white photo on the phone screen, before Cristina swiped it away. Refilling Raul's cup, and then stepping in front of him to refill Cristina's. Raul's arm bumped me, and his coffee slopped down the length of the sleeve of my blouse. Hot coffee. I let out a yelp that startled him.

"I'm so sorry! That's quite hot. Are you OK?"

I pulled the sleeve away from my skin and wafted it to cool it down.

"Oh my dear. Are you OK? That blouse will be ruined, Raul." She seemed agitated, and standing up to act. "Take the blouse off before it burns you, and I'll put it in water to soak."

I'm not flat chested, but let's say that my chest doesn't need significant support, so it's fairly normal for me to go bra-less nowadays. Today was one such day. I looked at Raul with near panic in my eyes, looking for him to realise and help me out of this situation.

Raul smiled. He just smiled.

"Come on, little one. Slip the blouse off so we can get it clean."

I stammered something to the effect that I had no bra on.

"It's OK, conejito. Take it off." His commanding voice again. Another instruction. I paused.

"Take it off, little one."

I hesitated, yes, but I did as I was told. I could feel the situation twisting around me and already out of my control it seemed. No skirt was one thing, but essentially being topless was something else entirely.

I froze, but Raul just held my gaze.

I loosened the tie and unbuttoned the blouse, shrugging the latter off my shoulders. I handed Raul the shirt, and he adjusted the tie so that it was knotted nicely and hung directly between my naked breasts. He smiled at me then, held my eyes with his, and in that moment he looked at me with such deep pride. My nervousness melted away. This had really pleased him, and I stood there exposed but with a warm glow spreading over me.

And then, once again, just moments later we were all sat around the table deep in conversation. After a time we'd moved to the armchairs in the salon. I could almost forget that I was barely clothed at all, while these two elegant people sat fully dressed and chatted without a care.

Cristina held out her empty coffee cup, while facing and talking to Raul, and without a word I got up and took it from her. I saw Raul smile as I did so, and I took his cup too. Walking to the dining room to re-fill them. Their talk stopped as I walked away, and I could feel their eyes on me. I was shaking a little as I filled the cups and turned to take them back. Both of them were looking my way. Both of them studying me closely - mostly my bare chest. But I felt no embarrassment right then.

I lent forward to hand Cristina her cup, but she didn't immediately reach to take it. She looked me in the eyes, but spoke to Raul.

"She really is quite beautiful. Especially like this." It wasn't a question, just an observation.

"Indeed she is."

She was openly admiring my breasts, with no attempt at all to hide it. I looked across to him, and saw again that proud smile, as Cristina reached out and took her cup.

I walked to Raul's seat, and leaned forward more than I really needed to, to give him his cup. He gave me a long look up and down, and patted his knee. He didn't take his cup. Again, a pat on his own knee, calling for me to sit. And I did just that - turning around to perch upright on his knee, still holding his coffee.

It struck me afterwards that what I was feeling was "prized". They were both admiring me, enjoying my body, my nudity, my vulnerability. There was a tension in the air, but the feeling was one of being appreciated, the way someone might appreciate artwork or a sunset.

Raul and Cristina picked up their conversation again, and though I tried to follow along I found myself just sitting in the moment.

As they talked on and on his hand had moved from my hip to my side. Then higher, and then onto my chest. Slow deliberate movements, not teasing. He cupped a breast in his palm and Cristina stopped talking. Just stopped, mid sentence. Neither of them spoke now. His hand squeezed my breast, and I could feel my nipples stiffening. He lifted the breast, pulling it away from me as though offering it to Cristina. I caught my breath in a sudden gasp and leaned slightly back. She looked at me, smiled her warm smile, and lowered her eyes again to watch him running his thumb over the nipple. Nobody spoke, not a sound.

His hand moved, and she watched, and I arched my back. The coffee cup rattled alarmingly in my hands when he slowly pulled me further back towards him. His knee slid between my legs as I was pulled into his chest. And his hand returned to my breast. Circling, squeezing, pulling in a constant, firm movement.

Cristina put her cup down beside her and leaned in towards us. Her eyes locked on mine, and her hand touched my knee. I couldn't speak, but I wouldn't have known what to say anyway. Raul's hand swept up my chest, under the tie, and towards my throat. He wrapped his hand loosely across my throat and my breath stopped momentarily. My eyes closed of their own accord. His hand explored me, back down to my chest, over my breast, down over my belly. Cristina's smile grew as my eyes opened wide. I'm pretty sure she licked her lips. And his hand descended to the top of my knickers, running along the edge, back and forth.

I let out a very soft moan as his hand slipped under the fabric. He delved deeper until his hand was covering me inside my knickers. Holding me, controlling my core, possessing me. And I bucked a little as his finger swept through me. We could both feel the moisture. She was watching so closely, witnessing every reaction to every touch. And his touch was relentless. Ever moving. Sweeping. Curling through me, and spreading me. He paused briefly at my entrance several times, applying a little pressure but not pressing inwards.

She reached up to my breasts. The very tips of her fingertips brushing my skin, drawing a raspy intake of breath from me. Both her hands trailing over me, so incredibly lightly. Stroking down across the tops of my breasts, to circle the nipple, and then run underneath. Back up again, only barely touching me. Such gentle touch it was almost painful.

His fingertips were on my most sensitive spot. One finger on either side, moving firmly backwards and forwards. Alternating with a long, leisurely swipe through the centre of me. Arriving back at my clit and pressing just the weight of one finger to me. Circling me to match the pace of her fingertips on my nipples.

My hips were twitching, pushing forward in search of more. The pressure was building so quickly now. The coffee cup clattering in it's saucer. Without a spoken word they both increased their pressure and pace at the same time. They worked my body faster. The same movements, but more urgent, more driven. Demanding. Over and over they worked me, until I could barely hear him above the sound of my own panting breath.

"Ask Cristina for permission, conejito."

She raised her eyebrows at me, and gave me the widest smile. She was almost child-like in her anticipation - this was a gift to her. His gift to her.

"Ask her for permission."

"Please, Cristina?"

"Please what, girl?" And she tugged firmly on my nipples, which almost sent me crashing.

"Oh please."

"Please what, girl. Tell me what you want."

"Please may I cum?"

"No, girl. Not yet."

She tugged hard on my nipples, and he circled my clit. They weren't stopping, and I didn't know how long I could hold on.