Mz Rainbow Meets a Couple

The cocktail bar is on the second floor of the hotel, quiet and dim with only a few couples dotted about. You're probably early because you were so nervous and started getting ready hours ago. You head to the bar and order a drink, conscious you've barely eaten and that nailing your way through a massive gin would not be the best way to start the evening.

Eventually, it comes and you perch on a barstool, trying to check out everybody there and not be caught checking out everybody there. You catch a few folks looking and blush a little. You know you look good, better than good, great, but sitting alone at the bar for too long will only attract the wrong sort of attention.

Somebody comes to stand next to you at the bar, just a little too close. You can smell her perfume and after she orders a pair of drinks, you dare to speak up.

"Excuse me, but are you waiting for somebody?" You sound so much more timid than you expect. Your voice is almost trembling.

She turns to you and removes her oversized sunglasses and you recognise her from their profile. Relief clearly shows on your face and she smiles.

"We're not waiting for somebody, we're waiting for you dear"

She sounds so posh, like a high-class pixie. She's cute as fuck, and knows it.

She takes her drinks and starts to walk back to a table, pausing and looking over her shoulder she says, "Well hurry up there, don't keep us waiting", and then strides away. You scramble to catch up, heading for the same table.

He rises to meet you both, tall and stocky to her short and curvy, and steps out from behind the table, looking like a man who owns the world, and guides you into the bench seat, siding in next to you. She slips in on the other side, trapping you between them, handing him his drink. You've left yours at the bar, and start to rise and say something, but he places a hand on your thigh and holds you down to the seat. "Leave it" you're told, and you melt back into the bench, legs almost trembling.

They go back to their conversation, talking oast you, not attempting to engage. You open your mouth to chip in and she puts a finger to your lips and shushes you. His hand goes to your thigh under the table and slides up it, finding the edge of your stockings and dipping her finger under them. She smiles, letting you know that she knows you followed their instructions.

"We didn't come to chat and make friends dear" you are informed. "Be patient and we'll get round to you ".

This carries on for as long as their drinks. At one point he places your hand on his bulge and you grind a little, feeling him get hard. He takes your hand away.

Later still, she turns to him across you, and with her body as cover slips a hand under your jacket and under your boob, squeezing and rubbing, her thumb finding your nipple. She never breaks conversion.

Eventually, their glasses are empty and you're squirming on the spot, almost visibly panting when finally he starts to make a move.

"Time to take you upstairs and bully you I think, we'll lead the way," he says, moving so you can step past.

"Don't forget your clutch, you did pack as we asked didn't you", she says passing your bag. You nod, not trusting yourself to speak, terrified that they will open the bag here in the bar.

They lead the way to the lift, calling it and waiting. When it arrives it's empty.

"Oh goodie, she says, pushing you forward, following up, and husting you in. He steps in and presses the buttons, the doors closing behind him, but the lift not moving.

"Show me your collar" she demands. You open the bag and fumble out the wide leather band and lead, they only just fit in the bag. "SLUTWIFE" is marked out in rhinestones around it, incredibly trashy, achingly hot.

"Well put it on!" She sternly tells you, her demeanor changing. Gone is the posh pixie, she's got a school marm tone and look, and you fasten it in place as quickly as you can, struggling was the buckle behind your neck.

"Allow me," he says, turning you by your shoulders to face away from him, hands coming up to your neck and quickly tightening it one notch further than you had and closing the buckle. There's a sudden click, and you look into the mirrored wall surprised.

"Our lock, she has the key"

She's holding it out on a slim necklace you'd not noticed before, a smirk across her face you'll not forget in a long time.

Before you're used to the idea that you're collared until she's happy, he draws your hands behind your back and the ripping noise of a wide cable tie announces that they are secured. You wiggle, but they're tightly bound.

The lift reaches the top and just as the door starts to open he steps in front of you, pinning your arms to your sides and she works your dress over your hips, exposing your stocking tops and arse. It's clearly a practiced move, because before you have a chance to do anything he's striding out of the lift, pulling you along on your lead and she's following. You hear her snigger but there's nothing you can do, the dress is too fitted for you to be able to wiggle it down and he's moving too fast for you to even try.

The corridor seems to go in forever and you're terrified somebody will open a door or come round the corner to see you being dragged along on lead, your bum on show, and your collar making it very obvious what is happening.

Their room is the last door, facing the corridor, clearly a large corner room. He has the door open and she pushes you in, taking the lead and marching you into the large room.

"I need to text to say everything is ok" You finally manage to get out, now that the nightmare of the corridor is behind you.

"How very sensible, let's send a selfie shall we," he says, hand on your shoulder, pushing you to your knees, facing a large mirror.

And there you are, flushed, ruffled, down in your knees, between the two of them, both elegantly dressed in black, his hand in your hair holding your face to the mirror and slightly up as if you're worshiping them. She holds your lead in a short grip, the chain wound around her small hand, the collar clearly digging in and tight, the word Slutwife for all to see.

You hear the phone click a couple of times and he uses both hands to text, letting go of your hair, whilst she drags you up to your feet.

"Sent!" He decrees, "Hubby knows you're safe and sound, I told him we'd send you home in the morning".

He unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of the loops and doubling it over.

"Now dear, should we beat her or fuck her first?" he asks her, whilst she bites her lip and makes fists we rh the hands.

"Let's fuck her up," she says, delightedly.