Sylvies Date

Sitting next to Sylvie at the booth, I slipped my hand underneath her skirt. She bit her lip, sighed, and looked away guiltily as I felt the slickness on her thighs tell me everything I needed to know in that moment. I slipped the index finger of my other hand in the loop of her collar, pulled her close to give her a kiss on the lips, and said "go on".

She sighed again, and looked briefly into my eyes before looking downwards. The man across from us, David, smiled at me and stood up. He walked around the table, took Sylvie's hand, and pulled her up. As he led her out of the bar, Sylvie looked back at me with that same hesitant, nervous, guilty, look; I smiled at her and mouthed "I love you" as she stepped out of sight.

I finished my drink, and went home to a nice, restful evening of solitude and relaxation. I already knew Sylvie would be too nervous and reluctant to report in overnight, and I'd made it clear she was under no obligation and to focus on herself first. We already arranged that, if things went well, I would pick up Sylvie at nine the next morning; enough time for some morning fun, cleaning up, and some breakfast. But until then, Sylvie was David's little slut to do with as he pleased.

Sylvie and I have been dating for nearly a year. She isn't my usual type -- petite but with healthy weight, she'd likely be considered chubby if she didn't carry it well. She has fair, delicate skin with freckles that extend down her chest and back; a round face with large eyes and plump lips that gives her the appearance of someone still in their mid-twenties; and she keeps her strawberry blonde hair in a pixie cut that doesn't seem like it would suit her face well, but somehow does anyway. She's no model, or film or television star, but she's pretty in the "cute" way.

We matched on a dating app, hit it off over coffee, and the rest is history...but for one little hitch. Sylvie is submissive which suits our relationship, but she's also into rough, degrading, sex and that's just not my style. We tried once or twice, but it didn't work for either of us. Sylvie assured me our sex life was perfectly fulfilling otherwise, but I could tell she missed the feeling of being held down, spanked, face fucked, and pounded hard as she cried out and squirmed in pleasure under the weight of a large, strong man.

I knew she was willing to give it up for our sake, not that I had asked, but I wasn't interested in constraining her or denying her desires. I was secure in our relationship, and always had fantasies about sharing a partner sexually. So, about two months ago, I sat her down to have a talk about it.

Sylvie was aware of non-monogamy, it's hard not to be nowadays, and supportive of it -- she had several friends and coworkers who were non-monogamous and perfectly happy. But, she'd never considered that lifestyle for herself; she had threesomes during her experimental college years and plenty of simultaneous casual relationships, but that's as far as it ever went. Let alone lifestyles like swinging, partner-swapping, hotwifing, or sub-sharing.

I told her how I felt -- the life we were building for ourselves was already great and our sex life was good, but I knew she missed that particular type of sex and didn't want her feeling in any way unfulfilled. I was already interested in partner-sharing, and I felt it might be good for our sex life to try sharing her with other men. It was a shock for her to hear that, and I could tell she was a combination of hurt, embarrassed and guilty, and slightly angry.

I made sure she knew I was asking from a place of love and security, and that I wouldn't press the issue. It was her decision to make on her own time and in her own way, and I would love and support her regardless. Things between us were a bit chill for about a week and things went back to normal, and life went on. A month had passed, and I'd almost forgotten the conversation by the time she answered.

It was my turn to be shocked. She explained to me that after her initial shock wore off, she realized she liked the idea but needed to know more. She talked to her non-monogamous friends, done lots of research online about how partner-sharing worked, and reached out to speak with women and couples online about their own dynamics. What she needed was to know how it would look for us, and fit into our lives.

She said she would try it, but only under certain conditions. First, it had to be in a dominance-and-submission context; she wasn't interested in vanilla stag/vixen or hotwifing, it had to be her as submissive, being lent to dominant men for their use. Second, I had to be involved and stay involved; I would meet and vet her partners, I would do the negotiation, and I would have "veto powers" on anything and everything that might happen. Third, it would be physical and sexual only; she would not be romantic with other men, and if she developed feelings, she (or I) would end it.

I'll admit, I would have preferred a little more proactivity and assertiveness on her part about partner selection, but that was a good start. I agreed, and she re-opened her dating app profile, editing it to reflect her new circumstances. We had some fun updating her profile pictures to something more appropriate -- read, slutty but in a suitable-for-work way -- and I waited while she did her work.

Sylvie kept me updated on her searches and chats, and it was tough for her. The sleazy, crass behavior usual to dating apps aside, most men either didn't understand her circumstances, wanted more, or thought they could secretly somehow steal her away. Finally after two weeks, she found David. David was a bull, who was partnered and ethically non-monogamous; he already understood our dynamic and preconditions, and was a complete gentleman.

It took Sylvie about a week after finding David, to warm up. They exchanged messages about various topics, and she kept me up to date about what they were talking about and how she felt. She gave me David's contact information, and I talked to him directly about Sylvie's interests, turn-ons, hang-ups and limits; he knew this was new to her and it would take time to build her comfort level, and even I was impressed by his patience and accommodation.

Once she'd warmed up, they started sending racier texts which quickly escalated to outright sexting. David sent her nudes, and she was very impressed by his physique and size; it turned her on to admit it, and she wanted me to send him sexy pictures in response as my doing it played into her fantasy. I told her to put on some lingerie and makeup, and took the pictures while she stripped and did sexy poses, culminating in full nudes of her bent over and on her back, legs open, spreading her delicate pussy lips with her fingers.

I'm not ashamed to admit, it was about the horniest I'd ever seen Sylvie. Her face and freckled body were deeply flushed; her breath was deep and fast even though she wasn't exerting herself; her puffy nipples were completely erect; her ass and pussy were flushed and swollen; her erect clit pushed her inner lips up and outward; and the scent of her sex was thick as her lubrication glistened on her ass cheeks and inner thighs.

I had to have her right after I sent the pictures, and it was already some of the best sex we'd ever had. As she gasped and moaned beneath me, I whispered in her ear all the things I would have David do to her, and how good and slutty she would be for me while he did them. Sylvie came, quickly and hard, several times before I finished, and we collapsed together, sweaty and completely exhausted. Once we came back to ourselves, she all but begged me to arrange a date already; I got in touch with David, and set the meeting for the next weekend at a bar near his home.

The next week was a blur of sexting between Sylvie and David, hot anticipation, and mind-blowing sex. Sylvie could barely contain herself, all she could talk about was her upcoming date with David and she burst at the seams with raw sexual energy; I woke up or got home from work to find her masturbating nearly every day, and I was too eager to give her what she needed.

But, the highlight of my week came the day before the date. She already put time off from work the day of the date for hair and nail salon appointments, but the day before she called while I was at work, asking permission to get a full Brazilian wax. Her sparse pubic hair was a slightly darker shade of the strawberry blonde atop her head, which I found incredibly sexy and preferred her to stay natural, but she wanted to go all bare for David to be as exposed and slutty as she could be. I'd never made requests like that from her, and she'd never asked -- she voluntarily stayed natural to please me -- but her obeisance in that moment was exhilerating and sexy as hell.

I told her it was okay -- just this once -- but the price would be once she got the wax, no touching and no sex until her date with David. She agreed, reluctantly, and as far as I knew she obeyed to the letter, despite spending the next twenty-four hours practically bouncing off the walls from pent-up sexual energy.

I already guessed Sylvie would want me to pick out what she wore to the date. She usually did, at least by choosing between two or three outfits and having me pick which of them to wear. While she showered for her date, I decided to play into her fantasy by skipping that part and laying out a dark green draped satin backless top that complimented her skin tone and hair, a black irregular miniskirt, thigh-high stockings, her black fuck-me pumps, and a black leather collar and jeweled butt plug I bought that day just for her.

When she came out of the bathroom from putting the finishing touches on her hair and doing her makeup, she looked at the clothes I laid out for her. She wanted to dress slutty for David, but she clearly didn't anticipate that degree of sluttiness...or preempting her choice as to what to wear at all. Her eyes darted around, clearly searching for bra or panties, or even at least pasties, and back to me. I shook my head and said, "those...only", with extra emphasis on the "only" to make sure she knew beyond doubt she was leaving home without anything to preserve her modesty should she move or sit the wrong way.

She looked down, and noticed the collar and plug. She looked back at me, mouth open, as if she was about to say something. She quickly closed her mouth, swallowed hard, and nodded looking down. The change in her demeanor was immediate, and honestly a little shocking; in a heartbeat, she went from bouncing around like an excited child about to go to an amusement park, to the deepest subspace in which I'd ever seen her. I knew from her sudden, deep, flush and puffy erection of her nipples she was incredibly turned on.

"Too much?" I asked, concerned for her sudden drop into subspace. It took her a moment to process the question as it usually did, and she quickly met my eyes before glancing back down subserviently. She gently shook her head, and wordlessly mouthed "no" before taking the plug and returning to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, she returned to the bedroom, turning around and bending over slightly to show the plug nestled comfortably in her ass. The jewel glinted slightly in the bedroom light. I checked in with her to make sure it was comfortable and remind her she could remove it if needed; Sylvie was no stranger to anal play and knew her own limits, but checking in was still important especially given how deep in subspace she was in the moment.

She silently, deliberately put on the stockings, skirt, top, and pumps, and finished by putting on the collar. She put on her jewelry -- her cross necklace, dangle earrings, bracelets, and rings -- and with a last glance in the mirror, did some finishing touches. Sylvie looked like a high-end escort on her way to an outcall, and she knew it. But what had to be most humbling to her, was that from her flush and visibly-erect nipples alone, anyone who got a good look at her would know how turned on she was.

She turned to me, nodded, and we left. The drive to the bar where we would meet David was about a half hour out of town, near the upper-middle class suburb in which David and his partner lived. Sylvie shook slightly out of her subspace during the car ride, her obeisance replaced with quiet nervousness at meeting this other man, but she stayed quiet and spent her ride watching the scenary pass through the window. The few glances and a smile she gave me during the ride reassured me she wasn't getting cold feet and she was eager to do this, but couldn't help feeling typical pre-date jitters, especially given circumstances.

When Sylvie and I got there, I realized the establishment was somewhere between a wine bar and a gastropub, exactly the sort of place one would expect in an upper-scale neighborhood. David had gotten there first and already texted me, and when we entered the establishment, he wave to us, got up, and met us at the door.

Sylvie stood behind me, her eyes lowered, as David and I shook hands and introduced ourselves in person. After a brief moment of small talk about our drive here, he turned to Sylvie and gave her a look from head to toe, his eyes stopping to admire her breasts, hips, and thighs. She slowly turned on her heels to give David a view of her backside, before glancing up to meet his eyes and giving him a brief, wide, smile. Her arousal was again on full display to anyone who would notice, as David certainly had.

He took Sylvie's hand and kissed it, as I introduced the two of them. David and I already knew this brief ritual would be part of her fantasy, my "showing off the merchandise" so to speak. I decided to add in my own little flourish by acknowledging her presence as little as necessary to keep her attention fixated on David. David led Sylvie to his booth, and helped her sit across from him before seating himself.

David ordered wine for the three of us, and David and I struck up a good conversation about some topics of mutual interest. The conversation strayed to Sylvie a handful of times, but she stayed largely quiet and only spoke when spoken to, as fit her fantasy and expectations of the evening. She had already spoken to David plenty, decided she wanted him, and the feeling was mutual; this part was largely roleplay, of me deciding I should let David "borrow" her for the night. Her job for now was to be eye candy, and she did her job extremely well.

And, I knew the anticipation was torture for her. From her visible arousal, how she kept glancing over at David and biting her lower lip, and her barely-restrained fidgeting with her collar and jewelry, I knew she wanted absolutely nothing more than to leave with him, then and there. I suspected if he asked, or I told her to, Sylvie would have fucked him in the bar's restroom or parking lot, or his car outside.

I saw no harm in making her wait. The longer I did, the more it would play into her fantasy and the hornier it would make her. The conversation was surprisingly good, anyway, and I found myself taking a liking to David. But all the same, after an hour of good company -- and pure sexual torture for Sylvie -- and a second glass of wine for us all, the conversation naturally wound down.

"So," David said, signing the check, "shall Sylvie and I go?" I looked at her and met her pleading eyes, knowing it was time. That's when I slipped my hand under her skirt.

I admit, I didn't sleep much that night. I was too curious what was happening at David's home. But, neither was I going to call or text her, and interrupt her fun. I couldn't help but check my phone almost compulsively despite knowing she wouldn't check in either. I eventually took a melatonin pill, put on a movie for white noise, double checked my alarm, and forced myself to bed.

The next morning, I got ready and drove myself to David's. When I arrived I texted, and was surprised to see his garage door open. The trunk of David's car opened, and he emerged from an interior door wearing a house robe, leading Sylvie on a leash, naked, to it. Sylvie's anal plug dangled from her hand.

In the morning light I saw Sylvie's hair mussed, her mascara run down her face, and her lipstick smeared across her cheeks and chin. Her nipples were red and swollen, her butt was a beet-red, and hand prints and welts cris-crossed her breasts, thighs, and butt. Her walk was more of an exhausted stagger, but despite it, Sylvie looked over, met my eyes, gave me a giant smile, and waved with her free hand, mouthing "thank you".

I watched as Sylvie retrieved her clothing and purse from the trunk of David's car, and put on her miniskirt and top for no reason other than what little modesty she could muster. David kissed her lips, unhooked her leash, and shared some words with her before gesturing towards my car. Sylvie walked over, pumps in one hand, stockings and plug in the other. I opened the passenger door from the inside, and Sylvie slumped into the seat.

I leaned over to give Sylvie a quick kiss, and with a quick wave to David I pulled out of his driveway. I glanced over to say something to her, but she'd already fallen asleep in the passenger seat. I concluded as I drove her home, she really must have had a big night and deserved that little bit of rest.

I woke her when we got home, and offered to help her in; she tiredly waved me off, saying she could make it on her own. She followed me into our apartment, completely oblivious to the marks visible under her scant clothing and uncaring of anyone who might see. When we got inside, she dropped her pumps, stockings, and plug off by the door, and led me to the bedroom.

Wordlessly, she pulled me to the bed, laid down, and pulled me atop her. We kissed ferociously as the two of us pulled down my pants; I was already throbbing, she was already wet again, and she wrapped her legs around my waist as I thrust myself straight into her pussy. The sex was wordless, intense, and quick; both of us grunted and moaned as I thrust her, hard and fast, to a speedy climax which I was completely unable to restrain. She gasped as I gripped her hips, thrusting as hard as I could, blowing my own load deep in her pussy.

Out of breath and spent from my intense, but brief, act of reclamation, I rolled over and laid beside her on the bed while she held my hand. I turned my head and we looked each other in the eyes, and smiled at each other. Unable to wait to tell me what happened last night, she started, still slightly out of breath.

"So...when we got in David's car, he ordered me to strip before we even left the bar parking lot. The windows of his car are tinted so nobody could see, but it was a real thrill riding around naked. He closed the garage door, got out, and opened my door for me. He already had a leash, and then he made me put my clothes and purse in the trunk.

Before anything else happened, he made me turn around and bend over so he could get a good look of me naked. He liked my plug, and he made me get on my knees in the garage and hold my hands behind my waist. He pulled his dick out right there -- I swear, even soft it looked bigger in person than his pictures -- and made me suck it before I was even allowed to leave the garage.

I was dying to taste him, so I did it instantly. I kissed his cock and balls all over, and sucked him. His precum was so thick and salty, I swear it was one of the best tasting things I've ever had. He started moaning and getting hard, and put his hand on the back of my head and started thrusting a little.

I choked and gagged a little -- he really was that big -- but he stopped me before he got fully hard. I think he just wanted to see how submissive I was and test out my skills a little before bringing me in the house. He made me crawl on my hands and knees, leading me by the leash.