You and I step toward the dance floor, both resplendent in black, one leather, one lace. Our necks show our positions: black collars on white skin. You walk out first, I hang back to watch you sway onto the floor, the rhythm taking you immediately. Then I smile back over my shoulder at our Masters, sitting, quietly watching and drinking and talking. My heels click audibly on the parquet, even over the throb of the music. The DJ is wonderful, picking just the right mix of sexy and hard to mold the dancers to his will and make them move as one sensuous body.
I move closer to you, letting my rhythm match yours, bending slightly so that my body molds to yours from behind. My hands run slowly up your sides as I feel eyes on us, two pairs in particular, and I smile, burying my face a little in your hair, seeking the warm skin of your neck with my mouth, sinking my teeth into the soft scented flesh just above the leather of your collar. My breasts rest against your back as our hips rock in tandem.
Your moan reaches my ear and your hands reach up and over to tangle in my short hair, just starting to get damp with the sweat of the dance. I wrap my arms around you, playing lightly with your nipple rings through the thin, lacy material of your shirt. My own nipples, still tender from the service I gave my Master earlier, start to tingle, getting hard from the friction of the hot leather.
You turn in my arms so that when our hips sway, they come together, and we fuck right there on the dance floor. I get wetter with every movement of your hips, and when I reach down to run my hand up your thigh, my fingers come away wet. Holding my hand out to our Owners to show then what we are doing to each other, I pull you to me and kiss you slowly. You draw me almost to a complete standstill with one hand on my lower back, one wrapping tightly in my hair.
We smile into each other's eyes as I grasp your hand and lead you off the floor, headed for the table where our Masters sit smiling at us. You start to sit down next to your Owner, but I keep your hand in mine and address Them.
"Sirs, I was just wondering if either of You minded if slave dawn and I went to the ladies room?"
Master DeSade laughs and nods toward your Owner. "I figured, little one. I don't mind in the least, do You?"
Your Owner shakes his head, and laughs. "On one condition," He says, "I demand a kiss from my little slave girl before-" He winks at Master DeSade, "and after."
My Master tips a wink back and drags me into His lap, barely giving me time to let go of your hand. I lose sight of you for a moment as my Master pulls me to Him by the collar, sliding his other hand just below the belt line of the back of my pants, pinching the welts He'd left earlier. I squirm and moan as He kisses me, bites my lower lip and whispers sensuously in my ear "Go, slut. Have fun."
I giggle as I scramble off His lap. "Is that an order Sir?"
He slaps my ass. "Of course!" His smile is gorgeous, as always, and my knees want to liquefy, but you grab my hand before I slide to them and yank me away.
We hold hands through the Balcony and all the way to the bathroom, many eyes following us through the smoke. We say hello to the coat-check girl, then disappear into the bathroom. In the sudden brightness, I see the dance, alcohol and excitement at work on my appearance, but for now I simply don't care. You are so lovely with the pink in your cheeks and a sheen of sweat on your skin. Without a word, you pull me to you, kissing me deep, parting my lips with your tongue and pushing me hard up against the wall. As my back meets the plaster, my hands fly up and start pulling at the buttons on your shirt.
The last button pops free and my hands slide across your chest to one of the rings implanted there, pulling and twisting it lightly at first, then harder. I feel your hands rush to the zipper of my leather pants, the button sliding out, the zipper sliding down, then your fingers were tug that the small thatch of hair there, wandering lower to fondle my clit.
"Ahem." You hear a sticky-sweet feminine voice behind you and I look up in surprise. I had nearly forgotten we were in a public place. Standing there agog is a very pretty young drag queen. "Now, sweeties, while I appreciate your efforts to entertain the general female populace of this place," she fluffs her hair, "I do wish you'd move it into a stall." Then he/she flashes a toothy grin and points at my chest, still buoyed by the leather of the corset. "I must admit though, that I'm jealous of those."
"Thanks," I say, still fondling your right nipple in plain view. "I grew them myself."