Getting an invite to an exclusive party is one thing; getting an invite to a glamour model party is a scenario that occupies most guys' fantasies.
Champagne glasses adorned the marble worktop in the kitchen, and the area usually reserved for dining sat at the other side of this open space, carpeted and furnished with red and gold. I was surprised to see how few people were there; I had known Harriett for less than two weeks, and our meeting had only been through her serving me drinks at the local bar. I had been flattered and surprised when she had invited me to her place for a party, and imagining her dressed up for a night out had teased me mercilessly ever since.
Harriett's accent gave me the impression that her family were wealthy, but she didn't give off a sense of elitism; her dyed blond hair gave her a Scandinavian look, and her features were strong and womanly. Her frame was confident and elegant; she was at least six foot tall, but I had never seen her venture beyond the bar, not even to collect glasses. Aside from the beauty of her face, her most discernible feature was her shapely cleavage, which heaved in her thin-strapped tops and teased with a flash of her lacy bras. Like most barmaids, she knew exactly what she was doing- she would have been foolish not to exploit her mesmerising cleavage for tips, but her modesty allowed her to joke and tease with the clientele. Her modelling career clearly hadn't taken off yet, but I could see the look in the eyes of men in the bar and it was clear that she could entice anyone she chose if she wanted.
Looking around the room, there were four girls and four guys talking, mostly one-to-one. The guys had all put shirts on and aimed to play it cool, but the girls were dressed outrageously; one girl with clearly-fake breasts was wearing a thin, white tee-shirt and no bra- her nipples were obvious through the thin fabric. She wore skin-tight leggings with a grey criss-cross pattern, and the thin string of her thong stretched above her hips at each side.
Another girl, petite but stunningly beautiful, with bronze, flawless skin and delicate, pixie-like features, wore a tartan pleated skirt so short that it was easy to see her underwear from behind, even when she was standing up straight. She wore no top, just a bra slightly too small so that it accentuated her breasts, and suspenders that met sheen tights, stretching down to her shiny black shoes.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to see Harriett as I had never seen her before: she was wearing black heels, which put her about an inch taller than me, and a black skirt with buckles at the side; chic, but more like lingerie than something you could wear out. Her legs seemed impossibly long; her shimmering thighs led to knee high, white socks. On her top half, she wore only a grey, button-up sweater, but only one button was done up, revealing half of her rounded breasts, up to and barely covering her nipples.
Her smile was modest, but knowing. She had seen herself in the mirror before coming down- of course she had- and she would have imagined my face. She would have pictured my pupils dilating, a moment when my heart filled and pumped a little harder than a moment before. She would have imagined the pause between my lips separating to let out a stunned sigh and my tongue involuntarily wetting my lips- an unconscious action signalling my overwhelming sexual desire. She may even have premeditated the surge that went through my cock; not a twitch, but a bold movement that turned the thrill of seeing the other girls into a full blown erection at witnessing Harriett in this way. I tucked my hard cock into my waist band to cover it with my belt, but the action was obvious and revealed what Harriett already knew- I was anything she wanted me to be.
She looked straight into my eyes, then down, and as she slowly raised her eyes again, she said "Hi" in a gentle, girlish tone and bit her bottom lip. In that moment, it was all I could do to control myself. I said "hi" back in the most natural tone I could muster and offered to pour her a drink.
The girls excused themselves minutes later, leaving five of us, all incredulous to the fortunate scenario in which we had found ourselves. They joked about their favourites and hinted at what they would do to tem in typically alpha posturing, but I saw through them- they were as helpless as I was, and I sensed that we had been led here for more than a party.
The girls came back out with sly looks on their faces, and a strong-looking brunette announced the reason for our invitations:
"You have been invited here by the girl you will represent in these games. There are forfeits for the losers, but the overall winner will get the full sex they desire, with whomever they desire. Those who come second and third will not get full sex, but may achieve orgasm- be warned now that this is not a guarantee. Third place is at the mercy of the girl who invited him - she may reward or deny him as she wishes. Those who come fifth and sixth will be subjected to one of two things- fifth place will be denied any orgasm and put in chastity for a week, whereby they will have to return to the girl who invited them here and ask to be freed from the device. The guy who comes in last place will be humiliated in a variety of demeaning and emasculating ways. If you want no further part in this, you are free to leave now."
We looked at each other, shocked and tantalised in equal measure, but no one left, and we were consigned to being the competitors in their games.
The first game was purely for the enjoyment of the girls; it was like a hen party game, and I began to get the impression that we were incidental in these games- playthings, rather than participants.
The first game was called "short straw"- the girls had to pick the guy they thought had the biggest cock, and points would be distributed based on the comparative size of the guy each girl picked.
I saw that I no longer had an affiliation with Harriett, since she picked a tall guy with a dark complexion. I was chosen third by the brunette who had announced proceedings, and she winked at me as I submissively walked over to her. The game had an incredible ability to make you submissive, partly because, in a way, you belonged to the girl who had chosen you.
I seethed with jealousy as Harriet stripped her chosen man, knelt in front of him and stroked his cock, joking to the other girls that she was making sure he was as competitive as possible. She held a ruler on top of his shaft and gushed "Seven point two" in a voice revealing that she was impressed, and sloped her head to the side, shooting a devilish smile first at him, then at me. I could see that his dick was bigger than mine, but I was sure I wouldn't be last.
After two more humiliating measurements, I was up. The brunette gave my balls a cheeky squeeze and drew the ruler to my cock. "Six point four" she stated for the others, "Third so far".
The final guy was skinny and looked nervous at the prospect of being measured; he had been chosen by the girl in the tartan skirt, and I saw her circle him coquettishly, approaching him in a way that made me imagine her sultry dominance in bed. She squeezed his ass cheek and peered around his shoulder, asking in a soft voice if he was ready for her. As she slowly unbuttoned his black jeans, I realised that he wasn't hard- it was an assumed prerequisite for this game that the contestant would be hard just by having five gorgeous women within touching distance, but he was paralysed by the intensity of the situation.
He now stood naked, his cock soft and helpless, and two of the girls gave an unforgiving laugh to one-another, joking that they had found fifth place in this game.
The girl in the tartan skirt was unfazed; she stood beside him, kissing his neck and running her tongue along his chest, whilst cupping his balls and massaging the shaft of his now gradually rising dick. After one minute, his member stood as firm as it ever had, and the girl cupping his balls even had the temerity to whisper "good boy" as she measured him. He was five point seven, and I had come third in the first round.
We were allowed our underwear, but we would have to do without the rest of our clothes for the rest of the competition, according to the girls.
The next event was a test of strength; we were challenged to do as many push ups as we could in one minute. I was second in this event to the only very muscular guy out of us all.
The third event was more focused on endurance; we would be blindfolded, but we would have to maintain an erection for as long as possible, with only the dirty talk of the girl of our choice to help us keep it up. There would be a metal ring placed loosely around the dick of the guy competing, and when it fell off his time was up. This time, we got to choose the girl.
I wanted Harriett, as she had the accent and flirtation that made me dream of her touch but, currently being second in the competition and therefore having fourth choice, I figured I wouldn't have the option. To my surprise, every guy chose the girl who had invited him, and I began to see how their flirtations had had such a powerful effect on the men they had lured into their games.
With the deprivation of sight and touch, it proved more difficult to say hard for those who went before me than I had originally thought. The dirty talk was incredibly hot, but without the touch it became empty and unfounded, and some of the girls found it difficult not to be repetitive as the timer got to four or five minutes.
When it got to my turn, Harriett was wearing a wicked smile that promised mischief. Of the three who had gone before us, only one had made it beyond five minutes, but the ring had fallen off before six minutes had elapsed.
I pulled down my briefs to reveal my erection, standing ready for Harriett to do anything she wanted with. The competition was incessant in teasing my cock, and I could barely hear over my heart throbbing in my ears, pumping the blood to my permanently hard dick.
Harriett put the blindfold on me and whispered "this is going to be too easy..."
At no point was she more than two inches from my ear. I felt her breath and smelled the delicate, flowery fragrance of her perfume, and it reminded me of the bar and her curvaceous breasts, her soft pink lips, the flow of her thick blond hair. She told me of the times she had seen me look at her behind the bar, and she teased me about what I might be thinking about. She told me she wore lacy bras in the hope that I would go home at night and masturbate to the thought of her.
"Do you think of me when you masturbate?"
I let out a stifled, strangled sigh. "Y... Yes" I admitted.
"Do you want to win this competition? Because if you win, then you can fuck me..."
"I'd do anything" I groaned.
"Tell me your deepest fantasy; the one you wouldn't ever tell anyone in normal circumstances... That way I can keep you hard for a long time..."
My mind flashed from my longing to have her to the doubt I had at sharing something that she would definitely use against me, to manipulate me, but I saw that I belonged to her anyway; I was panting, imagining the taste of her lips, picturing her face, which I had pictured many times before.
My cock began waning, and I could tell I would have to divulge my fantasy to get her to talk dirty to me some more. I would do anything to have her, and this moment proved it, to her and to me.
"I like to be dominated..."
She giggled, a condescending, feminine giggle that instantly forced my cock straight up into the air. I had never trusted a girlfriend enough to tell them of my fetish for being dominated, and yet here I was, exposing this intimate truth to someone who I was desperate to fuck.
