The Fancy Party

I have a new trigger.

My Master thinks it's funny to hypnotise me randomly, and implant triggers I won't know about until they're activated.

Tonight he told me to get dressed in my favorite going out dress, and to do my hair and makeup perfectly. When he saw me, he kissed me gently on the forehead and told me I looked beautiful. I felt the most intoxicating burst of pride and warmth at that sentiment.

He drove me to a house about thirty minutes away from our own. He opened my door for me and took my hand to help me up and out of the car. He held my hand all the way to the door. Everything was lovely, until the door opened. Suddenly he was rough, shoving me inside, into the arms of another man. A laughing man.

"So this is the bitch you've been talking about, huh?" The man held me tightly by the upper arms, twisting me about to get a look at me.

"Yep, she really thinks she's something special!" My Master laughed along with him.

"I can tell!" The man was taller than my Master, which wasn't easy. He had salt and pepper hair and laugh lines. He had a striking profile. To my horror, he grabbed the front of my dress with one big hand and yanked it down under my breasts.

I wasn't wearing a bra, I rarely do, and my breasts were instantly exposed. I was distantly aware that I was opening and closing my mouth in shock, and I couldn't stop it. His gaze landed squarely on the barbells piercing my nipples, and he smirked.

"Oh yeah," he chuckles. "Something really special." He took both of my nipples in an iron grip and twisted so hard he lifted me onto my toes. I screamed and grabbed his arms for support. He let go and I doubled over, panting, trying to get my bearing.

There was movement around me as the man stepped away from me and offered my Master a drink. They both moved out of my peripheral vision, and I became away of the rest of the room. It seemed we had arrived at a very tasteful party. The lights were low and warm, the music instrumental and strangely kind. All around me were people standing in pairs and groups, murmuring and smiling coyly at one another. Every once in a while, one of them glanced at me and gave a mean little smile.

I observed all this from the corner of my eye; hunched awkwardly, body curled inward to protect myself. I breathed heavily through my nose while my eyes darted around nervously.

"Darling!" My Master had come back, making me startle slightly. He put his arms around me and straightened my posture, pushing my breasts forward. I made to cover myself and he gave me a stern look. My hands fell back to my sides. He smiled. "Darling, Devon here has brought you a drink. Isn't that nice of him?"

I took the proffered glass with a trembling hand. "Thank you, Devon." My voice warbled just barely.

"So, at this party, you're going to call Devon 'Sir', all right?"

I nodded, eyes on the floor.

"In fact, you'll be calling all the men here 'Sir', and all the ladies 'Miss'." He tightened his grip around my shoulders. "And they'll call you whatever they like. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Master." I whispered.

"What was that, cunt?"

My face and chest flushed frighteningly hot, and I had to close my eyes against the shame. Still, I said it louder: Yes, Master!

The whole room erupted into laughter.

The laughter made me shut my eyes tighter. My Master pulled me close and whispered, "Open your eyes, baby, don't you want to see all the friendly people?"

I opened my eyes reluctantly. Even the dim lighting seemed impossibly bright. I swallowed dryly a few times, painfully aware of my exposed breasts.

A woman detached herself from her group of friends and drifted toward me. She was taller than me, and older, with her hair twisted elegantly behind her head. She brushed an errant curl behind her ear.

"Hello." She said to me, in a softly accented voice. My Master pinched the skin of my upper arm, and I flinched.

"Hello," I said, voice hoarse. "Hello, Miss."

She laughed. "How perfectly charming! It speaks." Her smile turned sharp. She handed her glass to Devon without turning away from me. She lifted both hands and brought them down in a hard smack against my breasts.

"Ah!" I exclaimed, more in shock than pain. I gripped my drink harder and managed not to spill it. Devon and my Master chuckled, but the room had settled down; everyone once more concerned with their own little dramas. No one interested in the bare-titted slut at the entranceway.

"Well, what do you say, cunt?" My Master asked me.

"Thank you, Miss," I stammered.

"For what, bitch?" Asked the woman. She sounded genuinely interested. I took a deep breath.

"Thank you for slapping my breasts, Miss."

She frowned. "That doesn't sound right." She looked at Devon. "Devon, darling, why doesn't that sound right?" Her brow furrowed delicately. He smiled condescendingly at me, but allowed her to play her own little game. "Oh! I know. I have breasts, don't I?"

Puzzled, I nodded.

"Right. If I have 'breasts', there's no way in Hell you also have 'breasts'." Oh. I was starting to catch on, in a humiliating way. "No..." She tilted her head to one side, as if deep in thought. "No, what disgusting little sluts have aren't 'breasts'. They're tits! Isn't that exactly it, darling?"

I thought she was asking Devon, but she was staring right into my eyes.

"Well?" She demanded harshly.

"Y - yes, Miss. Thank you for slapping my tits, Miss."

"Now, there's a good little bitch." She sneered, took her glass back from Devon, and sauntered away.

My Master chuckled as we watched her walk away, her group reabsorbing her gracefully. I had to wonder, were they speaking about me? Laughing at me, at my submissiveness, my... tits? The not knowing ate at me. I'd been talked about behind my back often as an adolescent, and I guess that anxiety never fully goes away. I didn't have long to consider it, though, because my Master was guiding me deeper into the room. I stumbled slightly, and he caught me easily

At this point I realized I should go. I should leave immediately. My Master would understand. I could safeword and pull my dress back up and go back to the car. I could... I was so enticed, though. I could feel the wetness between my legs as the tops of my thighs brushed together. Despite all my shock and shyness, I wanted to see what would happen. I wanted to see what would happen to me. So I let him urge me forward, until we were surrounded by people on all sides.

I was struck by their clothing, their hair, their perfume. Everything so subtly expensive. This house looked fairly ordinary, but the people had money. Something inside of me revolted at the thought, but I pushed it down.

The conversations around us quieted, and all gazes drifted to land on me.

"Say hello, cunt." My Master urged, rather gently.

"Hello." It was easy enough to say.

"Now say, 'I'm here to serve.'" He said this while looking straight into my eyes, smirking.

It burned, but I said it: "I'm here to serve."

Silence. A few raised eyebrows. Finally, a single guffaw from a woman who looked a few years younger than me.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Get the little slut's dress off!" This was directed at Devon and my Master. Before I could do anything, both of them gripped the front of my dress and ripped it, actually ripped it, off of me. I squeezed my eyes shut, covered myself; a natural reaction to such a terrible shock. I heard laughter and opened my eyes in time to see the tatters of my dress fall to the floor. I was wearing underwear, but it was flimsy and lacy, barely enough to cover my backside.

Of course the young woman noticed: "Oh my God, that's so funny! As if she's worth wearing anything that pretty." She tipped her head back and laughed, exposing the lovely long line of her throat.

My Master pulled out his pocket knife and flicked it open. To my horror, I felt the cold kiss of metal against my hip as he sliced through the delicate fabric. I squeezed my thighs together to keep myself covered, but he pinched the meat of my ass hard and forced me to allow the panties to fall.

Then I was naked, in front of a room full of strangers.

The room was warm, but I still felt goosebumps race across my skin. I'd never been naked in a room full of strangers; their eyes burned and chilled at the same time. The effect was intoxicating. Still, I wrapped one arm around the breasts, and reached down to cover my pubic area.

"Get her a chair!" Someone called. What, why? I didn't have to wonder long before a chair was placed behind me, nudging the backs of my knees to bend and sit.

"Hands beneath your knees, lift and spread," my Master said very calmly. He was standing behind the chair, hands resting firmly on the shoulders. I trembled, but I obeyed. I gripped the bend of my legs tightly, steeling my nerves, and spread myself open to the crowd. It was quiet. I watched the eyes of everyone travel down to rest on my cunt.

"Is she wet already?" I had no idea who murmured this, laughter in their voice.

"I don't know," said my Master. "Are you wet already, slut?" I took in a shuddering breath and let it out slowly.

"Yes, Sir." I had to admit it, I'd been wet since we walked through the house. As if my body instinctively knew what was coming, while my consciousness remained unaware.

He chuckled. "Of course you are." He ruffled my hair. I both loved and hated this affectionate, condescending gesture. Nevertheless, it made me feel pleasantly small and warm. I caught myself in a pleased smile. He reached down to pat my face, once softly, and again a little harder. Not meant to hurt, maybe just to reassure and, at the same time, belittle. I couldn't help the surge of affection at these little gestures. "Open," he said softly. I opened my mouth to welcome the finger that he gently pushed inside. "Suck." Obedient, I closed my mouth and sucked. He laughed.

"Well?" Someone asked expectantly. "Can we touch her or what?"

"Of course you can touch her!" My Master pulled his finger out of my mouth. "Tell them." I pressed my lips together tightly, just for a second. It was hard to admit I wanted it, which is why I knew he had to get me to say it. He wanted me to cement my fate, to welcome everything that would come during the night.

"Please." I started. "Please, touch me." My cheeks burned, but it felt good to say it. I knew I wanted it.

I don't know what I expected. Maybe a little hesitation? Some of them didn't even put down their glasses before gliding over to me. I'm not even kidding about that; they all seemed so dangerously elegant, like swans.

I'd never been touched by so many people at once. The differing temperatures and sizes of their hands sliding over my skin caught me off guard. They started out somewhat innocently: touching my shoulders, even my feet. Soon, however, they were caressing my breasts, hands slipping down my belly to run over my pubic hair.

I was surprised, too, by their gentleness. It felt wrong, almost. It also made me feel a bit like an animal at a petting zoo, which I suppose was more appropriate, accurate.

"Spread them wider," called my Master. I found his eyes over the sea of curious faces and obeyed, spreading my legs to further expose myself.

Almost immediately, someone's finger shoved hard inside my cunt. "Ah!" I let out a soft little grunt at the immediacy and sensation. I trembled slightly and looked at the person who had so roughly penetrated me.

It was a young man with a beard, maybe around my age. That felt worse, somehow. That this was someone I might see out and about, maybe in my social circle, maybe even dating. Although, if he hung with this sort of upscale crowd, probably not, The thought made me blush hard. He must have seen it, because he smirked, coldly.

"It's funny that she still has the sense to turn all red like that," he said, loudly. The rest laughed. He wiggled his finger inside of me and I groaned. "Oh, did you like that?" I wished he'd go back to talking to the room instead of me.

"Yes, I liked that, Sir."

"Well, what do you say?" Someone else asked this. I really didn't enjoy that this had turned into a group participation event.

"Th - thank you, Sir." I shuddered and stuttered as he curled his finger, stretching my insides.

"You're welcome, cunt." He chuckled. "You're certainly wet enough." He withdrew his finger and as I opened my mouth to protest, shoved it into my mouth and told me to "Suck."

I sucked. It hadn't been the first time I'd tasted myself, but it was absolutely horrible in such a full room. He pulled out his finger and wiped it on my face.

"Thank you, Sir," I whispered. It was obvious what was expected from me. He just laughed and turned away.

"I wonder if I could just..." This from a shy looking woman, her arm linked with a man's. They both, I noticed, wore wedding bands. She moved forward, the man trailing behind her. Before I could figure what she had planned, she stooped a little, cupped my breast, my tit, and sucked my nipple into her mouth.

I actually whined.

I felt her chuckle all through my upper body, electric. She pulled back and licked her lips.

"Funny, I thought it might taste of metal." The man smiled, handed her back her drink.

I was breathing harder, definitely, and felt a little furrow between my brows. "Please, um." The room quieted down. "Please, may I have something to drink." It wasn't what I wanted to say: Please keep touching me. I wasn't quite that desperate. Master held a glass to my lips. I drank gratefully.

"Thank you, Master." I smiled shyly up at him. He winked at me.

"You all," he addressed the room. "Are being far too shy. Please," he gestured at me. "Please, whatever you want. She's clean, and easy enough." He smiled at me. I have no idea what my face was doing. I know I must have been shocked, shamed. The fact that he was offering me in such a horrible way to these people was indescribable.

"Aren't you, slut?" He looked at me expectantly.

"I - " I cleared my throat. "Yes, I am easy, Sir. Sirs and Madams." My voice broke a little at the end.

A man hesitated to my side, then rushed forward suddenly. His groin at the level of my head, I could tell he was hard. Even before he grabbed me by my done-up hair and rubbed roughly against my face. All I could really process was the sound of fabric in my ears, then the swoosh of a zipper yanked down. I had time to lick my lips before he shoved the warm head of his dick against them. Crudely, he pressed with one big hand against my cheeks until my mouth was forced open and he pushed himself inside.

I sucked immediately, hollowing my cheeks and trying to shield him from my teeth. I have a small mouth, however, and he was larger than my Master. Every time he was grazed by my teeth, he pulled hard at my hair. Already it was coming undone, falling about my face and bare shoulders.

I redoubled my efforts, sucking harder, trying to open wider. Breathing desperately through my nose, until he hit the back of my throat and it was near impossible. Luckily he pulled back before I had to protest in any way. I wasn't sure what would happen if I physically resisted, even out of instinct.

I like sucking dick. I like giving head in general. However, I was shy about how much I liked it. With my legs spread wide, my leaking cunt was ever visible. My worst fears confirmed when someone watching laughed.

"Look how wet it's getting!" Someone exclaimed. Even more laughter. I whined as best I could and squeezed my eyes shut tight.

"Hey!" My Master's voice. "Keep them open." Reluctantly I opened my eyes, staring into the hairy belly of the man fucking my face. I always liked body hair, if I could have touched him I probably would have.

His thrusts became erratic, and before I knew it he was shoving deep into my mouth and coming. When he pulled back, I had no idea what to do, so I sat with his cum on my tongue, staring up at him. He leaned down a little, then spit in my mouth. Actually spit. He tapped my chin until I got the hint and closed my mouth. "Swallow, bitch." It was the only two words he'd spoken to me. I swallowed.

"Thank you for letting me swallow your cum, Sir." I know it sounds like a bad porno, but I was starting to be addled by my own arousal. I felt like if I told them what they wanted to hear, they might keep touching me. I was turned on enough to admit I even needed them to keep using me. I smiled at him. He brought one hand down suddenly and sharply slapped my tit. I yelped, shook, kept my posture.

Somewhere away from me, I think my Master laughed.

"Oh, a bag!" A woman gasped delightedly. "What's in the bag?"

My Master had placed a medium-sized black leather duffle bag on the floor. I knew that bag. My cunt pulsed in anticipation, and I resisted the urge to squeeze my legs together. I resisted the urge to protest.

"Yeah, she knows what's in here," My Master laughed. He turned to the group. The crowd. "You may use anything in this bag on her, but you know the rules..." He trailed off meaningfully. Good, I thought, because I certainly didn't know of any rules. With permission granted, they unzipped the bag and started going through the contents.

"Oh my God," laughed one woman, and she covered her eyes with one hand. I didn't even know what she was looking at, but I blushed nonetheless.

"Chin up," said my Master, suddenly behind me. I lifted my chin, and he fastened a leather collar around my neck. I couldn't see, but I knew it must be mine. The one we used, privately. Deep red leather with gunmetal hardware, a tag that read, horribly: Easy. He patted my cheek. "Good slut." I blushed even darker.

"Thank you, Sir." I managed to keep my voice even, above a whisper. I knew if I whispered, it would only make it worse.

"Can we use these on her, even with... those," asked a woman, the same one who had covered her eyes. She looked dubiously at my nipples, pierced through with barbells.

"Sure, she's been using them enough, herself." The entire group laughed. I was really beginning to resent how their laughter was affecting me. I felt like I must be dripping down to my ass, at least.

The woman approached me, the candlelight illuminating her pale red hair and making her glow. She smiled at me, like a friend, but her smile turned mocking when I returned the gesture. I looked down.

"Look at me, slut," She whispered. As if it were just the two of us. I heard some snickers behind her. I looked into her eyes as she cupped my left tit, and gasped as she aligned my nipple with the clamp. I winced as she slowly adjusted it, tightening the clamp until the pain radiated through my entire breast. "Good girl."

"Thank you, Miss," I managed.

I never broke eye contact, I barely blinked, as she did the same to my right tit. It was all I could do not to squirm. It was one of the most intensely intimate experiences I'd ever had, and it was profoundly humiliating having it happen before all these people.

"There," she smiled. She stood back and admired her work. The clamps were tighter than I was used to, and my whole chest hurt. "Lovely." She looked back up to my eyes, expectant.

"Th - thank you, Miss, for clamping my tits." To my surprise, the group didn't laugh. Instead, they politely clapped. I didn't know at whom it was directed, but it made me somewhat elated. I was unable to stop the grin from spreading across my face, and when I found my Master with my eyes, he was grinning as well.

"I think the slut deserves a reward, huh?" Everyone murmured in agreement. He reached into the bag and retrieved a vibrator, my favorite vibrator. The one that fit perfectly between my labia and nudged comfortably against my clit.

"Please," it slipped out, before I could stop it.

"What's that?" He tipped his head to one side. I was done for.

"P - please," I said, louder.