Pushing Boundaries

Saanvi Rajput stepped onto the hotel elevator and hit the button for the seventh floor, admiring herself in the mirrored walls of the ornate box. Her hair was tied up into a fancy braid that she admittedly spent too long on, her light makeup perfectly blended. Red heels made her feel tall and sexy, her bare brown legs sure to please as they went up into the knee-length skirt of her fancy and tasteful lavender-colored dress. She pursed her shiny red lips at the mirror, practicing a sultry look. Only a hint of cleavage was showing, but it was surely enough to conjure images in the minds of bypassers.

Despite the confidence her well-manicured image brought her, she was a bit nervous; she was seeing him in person again for the first time since their unexpected meeting. But she couldn't bring herself to back out now. How exciting had her life been in the past few weeks? Recently she had been sent by her firm to prospect at a networking event, but it turned out clients were not all that she was prospecting.

Amidst the sea of portly, middle-aged men she had caught a glimpse of one particular gentlemen roughly her age, she had guessed, late twenties or early thirties. Her glimpse did not go unnoticed, and they naturally gravitated toward each other. What started as their practiced elevator-pitch introductions turned into a mostly professional conversation that took them around the room together, utilizing their chemistry to network the event that much more effectively.

"My name is Logan," he said leaning in with a smirk, "and you, miss?"

"Saanvi, but my friends call me 'V' or 'Vivi.'" Eagerness was on her voice.

He worked in Property Management, a field she understood little about even after his explanation. He was well-dressed in business-casual attire and she found his lack of reverence for the event charming. His brown hair was in a scruffy side-part and his weary but bright eyes were framed by black rectangular glasses.

Later that evening, he held a drink in one hand and a pen in the other when someone had asked him for his business card. Without hesitation he looked her dead in the eye and spoke "Vivi, get my card holder from my right pocket." She looked back a bit incredulously: how presumptuous that there had been no "would you?" or "please," especially considering that he was asking her to put her hand in a near stranger's pocket. They stared at each other for a moment in silence before she surprised herself by reaching directly into it and pulling the metal card case out, handing it to him. She felt nothing suspicious, no lewd surprise. Just a tiny rush as she tried to smooth her furrowed brow. Later, they exchanged cards with each other before leaving the event, but not before Logan making a joke that she would have to beg him more earnestly to get anything from him next time. The joke registered as a bit odd, but she thought little of it. After feeling the appropriate time had passed, they texted each other almost simultaneously.

Days after the event, Saanvi had been sent alone to a conference in Ohio, a particularly boring one. Not knowing anyone, she found her evenings spent sitting at the hotel bar, nursing a glass of white wine while glued to her phone. What began as a few flirtatious exchanges quickly degenerated into a torrid spiral of sexually charged messages between two over-stressed adults needing an outlet. Kissy-faced smilies and promises of a future date upon her return gave way to quick selfies of her outfit for the day, and then later to selfies of what she was wearing beneath her outfit, if anything. Lurid promises of increasingly raunchy sex acts filled their text thread. He became more aggressive in his demands as the week rolled by. At his insistence she agreed to not wear panties beneath her skirt, and before long she was sending grainy photos of her fingers rubbing her clit beneath the table in a meeting.

Her job was stressful; constant vigilance and tact was required to keep the various dramatic personalities in the office in line, and she relished the opportunity to let someone else take the reigns. He equally appreciated having a gorgeous woman satisfy his need to be in control, his hectic career leaving him without a sense of control over anything. By the end of the week she was masturbating every night, texting him pictures of her shiny fingertips and enjoying his reactions. A friendship was blossoming, but when sex became involved the tone changed rapidly. She was to be subservient and she liked it. By the time she was flying home she was eager to satisfy whatever command he would issue. They had already agreed that they would celebrate their new found dynamic with a date, to be entirely determined by him. She just hoped he didn't take her request to push her boundaries too seriously.

The loud ding of the elevator snapped her present back into focus, and she focused on the muted sound of her heels on the hallway carpet to distract her from the anxiety she felt. As she found herself in front of door #714 she paused for a moment, inhaling deeply. Her lip quivered as she exhaled. A moment of cold sweats gave way to summoned bravery as she raised her hand and daintily knocked on the door. She could hear his voice inside, "Come in."

Logan sat in the corner in an armchair, eyeing her as she entered. He smiled but made no other movement, aside from bringing his glass of scotch to his lips for a sip. He sat regally in a charcoal grey suit and white shirt, face a bit scruffy. She walked up to him proudly with a saunter, all 5'4" of her figure coming to a halt a few feet in front of him. Her eyes spoke for her, shimmering with excitement. She looked gorgeous: her pretty face had an irresistible smile on it, and the curves of her body reminded him of a pin-up girl from times past. He couldn't help but let the curve of a smile on his face; his need to maintain control of the evening prevented him from revealing too much emotion yet. He inhaled deeply and took another sip of the brown liquid, preparing himself.

"Strip," he spoke brusquely, "you won't be needing anything you're wearing tonight, aside from your heels."

She was shocked, offended even, and she knew it showed on her face. She had carefully chosen the lavender dress to compliment her tone, to be sexy without being showy. Showing just enough cleavage and backside to make him want more. What were they even going to be doing? Surely they were still going out! She knew deep down that the game would require obedience, but this was jarring.

He watched, expressionless, as she carefully unzipped her dress and brought it over her head, doing her best to do so gracefully while hiding her resignation. She tossed it to the floor and stood in front of him in her heels and lacy black underwear, her excitement creeping back in. She watched his eyes fixate on her breasts settling into the brazier, released from the fabric of the dress. He admired her hourglass figure, her stomach soft and feminine, healthy. A certain thickness made her proportionate hips and thighs irresistible to him, causing his groin to stir. She adjusted her weight to her other leg and posed, running a hand across her body, enjoying the feel of her fingertips on her skin as his eyes followed.

"Your lingerie, too." His words punctuated the moment.

"Seriously!?" she exclaimed.

His eyes widened and darted to meet hers. "Excuse me?" he asked in a terse tone. His icy stare made her blood run cold.

"I-I'm sorry...sir." she stammered.

A bit confused, she reaches back and unclasps the bra. It falls to the ground as her ample breasts unceremoniously bounce free, settling in the cool air of the room. Thumbs hook the sides of the panties and she peels them down, exposing freshly shaven labia. Her heart races as he stands and slowly walks toward her, putting his glass down, letting his hands glide across her skin. She keeps her head high and knows to avoid looking him in the eye as his strong fingers run across her shoulder, down her side. Her dark brown nipples harden as he palms one of her breasts, weighing it in his hand. She stares ahead, assuming she's supposed to.

As he continues around her she is struck by the situation; him, fully clothed, carefully considering her naked body. His palm grabs one side of her bodacious ass, squeezing it and spreading her butt before falling further down the back of her naked thigh. "Present yourself." he speaks again, his tone difficult to read. It takes a moment, but she understands as she feels a firm pat on the underside of her butt. Her face turns red as she bends over forward, putting her ass high in the air. A warm palm presses gently against her pussy, feeling it's heat. 'Oh my god, he's inspecting me like a show dog.' Her mind raced and she felt humiliated, but she couldn't ignore the corresponding tingling between her thighs. He admired the electric feeling of having it in his hand, enjoying the smooth skin and the heat that radiated from her. He could see tiny glimpses of her pink inner labia in contrast to the dark skin between her legs. She suppresses a gasp as a finger probes against her tight asshole, just barely pressing in. Another tap on the butt tells her to straighten up again, and she complies, standing as tall and straight as she can, confident how excellent her thighs and butt look in the heels.

As she stands he walks in front of her again, grabbing from the nightstand a black silk ribbon. As he brings it over to her and unfolds it she realizes that it's a choker, and remembers what he had said about it the previous day -- that once the choker was on that there is no going back, that she must comply with every last command, no matter how difficult or embarrassing.

"You're ready to be an obedient little pet?"

"Yes sir! I want to be your perfect toy," she eagerly blurts out, anxious to please. She can see a bulge against the fabric of his pants, a sign that she was succeeding in doing so. As he ties the choker around her neck her imagination runs wild with images of them being somewhere risky, him viciously fucking her in public with onlookers nearby. She had best be careful what she wishes for, she told herself.

"Very good. You'll find your outfit for the evening on the counter in the bathroom. Get changed and meet me in the lobby." He coldly turned and walked out of the room, leaving her standing naked and alone in the chilly room. His attitude was jarring, but she had seen the lust in his eye. A wild array of emotions ripped through her, both fear and excitement among them.

Heels clicked on the bathroom tile as she entered, anxious to see what he had selected for her. The items sat on the counter as he said they would, and she began to comply. So this is why he commanded me to give him my measurements, she thought. She turned and checked herself out for a moment first, proud of her shapely bosom, surprised by how much she enjoyed her naked form only being adorned by the black choker. She reached into the stack of fabrics and pulled the first item from the top, a dark red thong. It had some odd stitching on the front, but otherwise unremarkable. She stepped into them and pulled them up, admiring her curvaceous backside, made even more so by the heels. The thin red fabric disappeared between her cheeks, leaving only the tiny red triangle above her labia and the string around the top exposed. Had he really thought of panty lines? The next item was plainly a small black cocktail dress, looking fairly non-descript as it sat folded on the counter. However, as Saanvi picked it up her face began to redden. She wrestled into it and struggled to pull it up and over her considerable feminine assets, and it began to dawn on her that she would be wearing this in public, for the rest of the night. She turned and faced herself in the full-length mirror, her jaw agape.

The dress that Logan had provided, though of exceptional quality and fabric, was entirely lacking in modesty. The fabric hugged her ass tightly, barely going low enough to cover it at all. Her hips flared the dress out at the sides, tight fabric outlining her stomach. But looking at her cleavage in this dress genuinely made her sweat as she fathomed trying to go anywhere in public. The top line of the strapped piece went low, barely concealing the aureole around her perky nipples. Her breasts appeared to be bursting out of the thing, the bold line of cleavage between them almost entirely revealed to even the most casual glance. Without a bra they bounced aggressively with even the slightest movement, and her erect nipples were plainly visible through the obnoxiously thin fabric.

As she leaned forward to adjust, she could feel the fabric riding up and exposing at least a glimpse of her ass. The ensemble, complete with heels and red lipstick, was overwhelming to say the least. It wasn't that the outfit made her look bad; if anything the outfit made her allure that much more obvious. What concerned her was the fact that she hadn't dressed this way in over half a decade, and even her raunchy college girlfriends would have taken pause. She imagined all the faces she'd have to look at that evening, how many of them would think she was at best an immature slut, and at worst a prostitute hired by Logan. She tugged down at the bottom the dress, covering her butt, trying to stir up the courage to leave the room. She closed her eyes and imagined how badly she wanted to make him lose control, to be pinned down by him, to feel him force his way inside her. She was determined not to think too much about the onlookers; she wiped the few beads of sweat from her face and touched up her red lipstick, adjusting the top of the dress once more before quickly exiting the room and heading for the elevator.

The minute ride down the elevator seemed to her to take an hour, feeling a pang of relief as she passed each floor without stopping. The elevator dinged as it opened to the lobby, seemingly announcing her entrance. The lobby was lavish, adorned with modern decor and plants, buzzing with activity as the visiting families and socialites of Washington, DC gathered in groups. People stood by the front desk and bar, others were seated in the waiting areas on lavish couches. Across the large atrium her eyes met with Logan's, who stood by the revolving doors of the entrance. He's going to make me walk across all this by myself? What have I gotten into? As she took off toward him her heels clicked on the marble floors, turning attention and drawing heads as she passed each group.

Logan watched with excitement as the show began. He could see her strutting through the crowd with as much confidence as possible, eyes locked on him. It made him appreciate her spirit. It became apparent as she continued that she was no mere distraction to the lobby: she was quickly becoming a situation. As she blew by a family the husband gawked and stared, unable to control himself, while his wife sneered. A group of seated girls tapped each others shoulders and pointed, giggling. He watched it continue, her cleavage bustling back and forth, her hips swaying. A group of men in their early twenties stopped speaking and stared as she passed by, shooting out catcalls. She knew without a doubt that every last person in the lobby was either disgusted or aroused, and she found her nipples responding as such, adding to her embarrassment.

As she finally walked up to her target her cheeks burned intensely. Logan raised his hand and offered it to her, much to her surprise. He even let a small grin slip out. "You did well. I wasn't sure you would make it even this far."

She flashed a pretty smile, "I didn't want to disappoint you, sir." She took his arm and they walked through the revolving door together, feeling instantly safer next to him. She expected the sense of relief she felt, but what she didn't expect was the rush of endorphins. She knew she enjoyed obeying him; but did she enjoy humiliating herself in front of all those people? Was it because he asked? The breeze that hit them as they exited to the street was calming as she pondered the answer, feeling it wisp between her exposed thighs.

As they walked arm and arm down the busy street he explained that they would first go grab drinks at a lounge nearby. He made it clear they would not be eating dinner, as it would only get in the way of the evening's festivities. They continued to turn heads, but were slightly less noticeable now that they were a pair walking along the street, hidden in the masses.

**********

As they arrived at the venue, brightly lit by a sleek sign, he opened the door for her. The blurry line between being her gentleman and her owner was terribly curious to her mind. As she entered first she saw the host's portly round face sour, and he quickly pointed her out to a man in a black suit, presumably security. He began to move toward her until Logan appeared next to her, stepping in just behind. Both the host and the security exchanged a look, and both resumed their regular positions. As they walked up the host's face lit up in a comically exaggerated manner. "Ah sir, welcome back!" He nodded at the pretty hostess standing next to him, and she escorted them toward a table adjacent to the bar.

While Logan made her feel safer, she still felt wildly out of place and she could feel the redness returning to her cheeks as they approached their table. All the ladies in the room wore elegant dresses, and their ears and fingers were adorned with jewels. Some showed a little bit of skin, some showed some cleavage, but nobody besides her had put their body on display in such a manner. Heads turned around the room for a moment, but most resumed their conversations and mingling among themselves quickly. It was a different atmosphere here than the hotel; people in this sort of club knew that their social standing rested on their ability to mind their own business. The evening took a relaxing turn for Saanvi. He quickly ordered them both a drink and they began talking. She didn't feel as exposed, sitting at a table. Logan's tone lightened, and they made conversation, laughing occasionally, as it began to feel a bit more like a regular date.

As they finished their first round, she sensed from Logan's face that something was about to happen.

"It's time to start preparing for the rest of the evening," he spoke evenly.

He reached into his jacket pocket, and she assumed he was pulling out his wallet to pay. Instead he pulled out a small, bright blue piece of plastic. It was nearly translucent, tapered on one end with a flat round base on the other. He casually tossed it onto the table and as it rolled to a stop in front of her Saanvi realized that it was a buttplug. Sitting on the table directly in front of her, wobbling as it settled into place. Her mind began to race but before she had any conclusions he spoke again.

"You're going to excuse yourself to the restroom. Once you're in there, you're going to rub your clit right up to the brink of orgasm. But don't. Don't you fucking dare get off yet," his tone lightened, "then I want you to shove this up your tight little asshole, come back to the table, and sit down."

Her eyes widened; she realized the longer she took to act the longer a buttplug would sit on the table. Not to mention the more his patience would wear. She grabbed it and stuck it in her little purse.

"Nuh-uh, take it out. You're carrying it by hand to the bathroom."

She looked at him, pleading, but when she saw the stern look she was getting back she realized she had better look away. She grabbed the toy in her hand and stood, her heels clicking and drawing attention as she quickly shuffled off toward the ladies room. She hoped nobody saw her and her cargo, but she was excruciatingly aware of the eyes following her as her assets shook correspondingly with the speed she was walking down the hall. She ignored a leering couple on her way, not willing to make eye contact.