By Paris Waterman & Guess
While continuing with polite responses to Michael's predictable dialogue, Leigh was soon lost in her 'fantasy scenario' of what would transpire with this fascinating couple later in the evening while continuing with polite responses to Michael's predictable dialogue.
The extended white limousine rolled silently along the socially prominent Upper East Side. Passing gloved doormen hailing cabs in front of opulent hotels; they drove by Madison Avenue's toniest shopping precinct until pulling to the curb in front of a nondescript building on 92nd Street that happened to be the most private club in the city.
The chauffeur quickly opened the door and the "Mystery Man" and his beautiful companion stepped out of the limousine and walked briskly to the entrance of the club. The door opened automatically, and they entered. A short, pudgy, but elegant man in his fifties greeted them.
"Good evening, Mr. Banning, Miss von Stade."
'He knows my name,' Marion thought, 'what kind of arrangement has Banning made for this evening?'
"Henry," Mr. Banning nodded. "Do you have my case?"
"Yes, Mr. Banning," Henry said and strode to an overstuffed chair, picked up a briefcase and quickly returned to the couple, handing it to Banning.
"Thank you Henry, your efficiency is always appreciated."
"Oh, you're very welcome sir. We hope you enjoy your stay with us."
"I'm sure we will. Its room 313 isn't it?"
"Right sir, 313 as usual, sir."
Banning accepted the key card and he and Miss von Stade left the lobby that was not a lobby, and headed to their playpen rendezvous.
Moments later, hidden from view behind the tall mahogany doors of the luxury suite, Banning sat in a comfortable overstuffed chair watching and waiting as Marion emptied the briefcase's contents on the bed. A melange of sexual toys poured out onto the bedspread. Banning crossed his legs and nodded. Marion von Stade smiled and began to follow the first of her Master's explicit instructions, after placing a CD in the player and turning it on, she moved to the center of the room, removing her garments slowly to a choreographed dance. She teasingly peeled the apparel from her magnificent body.
Languidly swaying in front of him, Marion manipulated her body, using the erotic bumps and grinds of a stripper and that of a belly dancer. Marion was soon nude, but continued dancing, gradually arching her body like a bow so as to present her shaven pussy for him to view. Banning nodded again and Marion dropped to her hands and knees, holding her ass high, inviting his further inspection. She adhered to a long established routine and backed toward him, silently praying for his approval. Marion knew failure to gain his approval meant harsh punishment for her and while she "enjoyed" the pain to some degree, his harsh punishments were to be dreaded.
Marion recalled the last time, when he'd said, "This will hurt me more than it does you, my sweet pet," in the saddest possible voice. Her body trembled. She reminded herself once again that he was a most loving Dom who believed that pain should never be a form of punishment. "It is the way," he would say, before flogging her.
But to Marion, the worst punishment consisted of those words followed by his denial of any contact between them for three consecutive days. Long, drawn out days that left her with an emptiness and a heavy heart that she found excruciating. Marion much preferred physical punishment, regardless of the pain inflicted on her simply because it was over quickly.
But tonight would bring no punishment, Marion reassured herself. Tonight would only bring joy. She felt secure with the inspection that was about to begin as she had a waxing earlier in the day. There was no telltale stubble to irritate him. 'Go ahead,' she thought to herself, 'look at me. Touch me. You can't help but be pleased with me. And I will pleasure you my Master.'
Thoughts of giving him pleasure always aroused her. She existed simply to please him, for she worshiped and obeyed him in any and all ways that he could conjure up as challenges to her. She loved and trusted him implicitly. He was her shining star.
Marion came back to reality with a jolt. Banning had bent forward and leaned in towards her, examining her closely. He was spreading her ass cheeks wide apart so that her pinkish brown pucker beckoned to him. An enema taken earlier had left her fresh as a budding blossom, and the oil she'd massaged into her pliant buttocks would fill his nostrils with an airy scent of jasmine.
"Clean as a whistle," he said, playfully slapping her ass.
Discretely, Marion breathed a sigh of relief.
"Very good my little pet." he said in a flat monotone voice, "You've managed to please me. Now present your pussy to me."
Her forearms slid slowly forward, her forehead coming to rest on the thick carpeting as she thrust her ass higher. His soft hands slid down her satiny twin globes. The very tip of his nose traversed her secret crevice down to her dampened slit. His breath left a hot, dry trail of glowing red coals that seared her skin. Pausing at her labia, Banning pulled back for a better view. Using his thumbs, he parted the naked petals before him and smiled at the wet pinkness that greeted him. A thin white lube was now oozing from her and her womanly scent was evident. Banning told himself that she was his most precious gift.
Marion shivered under his fingers as his hands casually glided down the silkiness of her inner thighs to her calves and back up again. Laughing to himself, Banning bit Marion's ass hard --- then licked soothingly.
She moaned loudly.
"What a good girl you are," he breathed close to her ear as his fingers dug in her flesh, kneading and raking. His groomed nails left a track of red lines, designating his signature of satisfaction.
"Ohhhhh, master . . . . ."
*****
Leigh was suddenly jolted back to reality. Michael's words had stopped droning in her ears. By the skin of her teeth, she had barely managed to stay abreast with the conversation. She nodded her head between bites of the seafood dish that had just been served, threw in a few words here and there; but once again found her eyes straying in the direction of that mesmerizing couple at the nearby table, as Michael sampled her plate.
Leigh hadn't noticed the woman leave the table. She wondered what her name was, and decided then and there to call her by her imagined name, Marion. Seconds later, she had second thoughts about the absurdity of naming the woman, and chastised herself for such a thought. 'Then again,' she told herself, 'it is my own little fantasy, however bizarre.'
While pondering this line of thought, Leigh reached for her wineglass, took a sip, and almost spit it out, as she saw the woman going under the table. 'My God,' she thought, 'this is unbelievable!'
Sputtering, Leigh began choking on the small amount of wine, and sputtered when Michael concernedly asked, ""Leigh, darling, are you okay?"
She coughed twice more, with a hand held up, signaling that she would be all right in a moment. When she stopped coughing, she said, "Uh huh, just went down the wrong way, Michael," and coughed again while dabbing at her lips and chin.
Satisfied that she had returned to normal, he offered her a taste of his pheasant, but Leigh declined, using the excuse that she couldn't eat something that had been alive earlier.
Michael laughed at this, and countered with, "But you're eating seafood which came from the sea, and was, or had been a living thing."
"It's not the same thing," she replied.
"And you love hamburger."
"Michael!"
"All right, all right," he said. "Let's not spoil the evening."
He changed the subject, and resumed telling her about the agenda of his forthcoming seminar. Once again, only half listening, Leigh was drawn like a magnet back to the couple's arrogant display. The woman's long, red nails were running up and down his leg nearest the aisle. Leigh sat back and gawked as the woman slowly slid down below the table. 'Talk about chutzpah,' she thought, 'I've never seen anything close to this, even when I caught Wendy Zadanowitz blowing that football player back in high school.'
One thought led to the next, and it wasn't long before Leigh's mind's eye perceived the woman's full, pouty, red lips wrapped tightly around the "Mystery Man's" cock, sucking him off to sweet ecstasy. The competitive part of her personality wondered if the woman was as good as she at giving head.
'Naww, no way,' she quickly admonished herself. 'I give great head, because I love playing with and sucking a man's cock, pure and simple. And I drive poor Michael crazy when I do.' She searched her memory and recalled the three other men in her life that she had honored with her mouth and tongue. Yup, she concluded, all of them had told her that she was the greatest. And Leigh smiled a secret smile. Still, part of her wished her mouth was on the "Mystery Man" right now.
Leigh discovered she was shocked at the thought. She had never cheated on Michael. In fact, she'd never entertained the thought before. There were times, she admitted to herself, she had looked at various men, even wondered how good they were in bed; and several times she'd masturbated using one of them to inspire her fantasy to its conclusion. But she'd never actually lusted after one of them. Leigh reinforced this recollection with the memory of Tom Hutchinson, a handsome enough guy, who'd groped her at a cocktail party and how she'd slapped his face in front of everyone. 'Naww, she didn't really want to ....'
Shoving her self-denials aside, Leigh's eye roamed back to her Mr. Banning. He looked rather cool, calm and collected considering the circumstances. Leigh emptied her wineglass and made an innocuous reply to Michael, then glanced back at "him."
Just then "he" surprised her, for Leigh had thought Mr. Banning had everything under control, now she noticed his right hand. Its fingers tightly clutched the tall shot glass of tequila sitting before him. He was squeezing it so hard Leigh wondered if the glass would shatter beneath the whiteness of his knuckles. A moment later, his eyes rolled back under fluttering lids. His teeth bit on his bottom lip.
'God,' Leigh thought, 'the look on his face was incredible. What an orgasm he must be having.' Her mind was racing. 'Jesus, how did he taste? Was his musk heady? Was he clean, without any sexually transmitted disease? Did he have a curved cock or a straight one? Was he cut or uncut?' Leigh felt herself growing wet and hoped she wouldn't spot the chair she was sitting in, or worse, her dress. Thank God it was black. 'Michael,' she thought, 'God, what was Michael up to?'
A surge of relief surged through her as she grasped the fact that Michael was still caught up in his forthcoming seminar and still talking to her. She paid attention to him for a moment just to keep up the conversational flow, nodded at the appropriate part and said something totally innocuous, before returning her attention to the other couple.
Mr. Banning's dreamy eyes opened and met Leigh's. His lips parted. It seemed to Leigh that he could read her thoughts. He stuck his tongue out and wiggled it at her. Leigh formed a vivid image of its softness on her clit. She flushed and became even warmer. She averted her eyes, realizing that she was embarrassed, mesmerized and desperately wanted him. 'What's wrong with me?' She wondered, fighting not to panic by the emotions running riot through her body. For the first time in her marriage she found herself desiring another man.
She risked another look in his direction. As if by magic, the woman was sitting at his side. Leigh noted that while her hair was a bit messed, not a speck of lipstick was out of place, and bit her lip as she wondered what brand she used.
The other woman ... Leigh caught herself ... 'I'm calling her the other woman. Now that's a joke.' She felt her composure returning and used it to make several mundane remarks to her husband.
When she was satisfied Michael was unaware of her voyeuristic activities, Leigh returned her attention to the couple. The woman sat there, feigning a coy, demure, smile, looking sweet and rather innocent. Leigh noted that the woman's eyes never left his. When, with a dainty pinkie, she brushed across her lips wiping at the corner of her mouth, Leigh's mouth went dry, 'Was she tasting the last remains of his seed?'
With a tremor in her hand, Leigh reached for her wineglass, and finding it empty, put it back down. 'Now I've done it,' she told herself. 'I'm thinking with my pussy.' Indeed her pussy was tingling with excitement, and Leigh experienced difficulty stifling a gasp as she felt the wetness seeping into the crotch of her panties. She was grateful that she had decided to wear them; even so she realized she might well leave a telltale sign behind.
Recovering her composure somewhat, Leigh found herself smiling as she watched her Mr. Banning lift his rump up and lean back in his seat. Both his hands disappeared under the table for a brief moment. Then he straightened up just as their smiling waitress appeared with two coffees and a dish of flan. Evidently the bitch must have forgotten to zip his fly. 'Oh, did I just refer to her as a bitch?' Leigh asked herself.
Michael's voice penetrated her consciousness. "You know," he said with a loving smile, "I've been monopolizing the conversation all evening my dear. You must have something to say, so I'll shut up for a while." That said, he poured the last of the wine into her glass and leaned back in his chair.
Leigh managed to focus her entire attention on him. "It's been fifteen years," she said, looking at him fondly.
He hoisted his glass to her. "Glorious years, my darling."
