It had been a long time since I'd gone to see Danielle Colby Cushman in a live burlesque review.... and a private "show" of her own. Thoughts of licking her sweet pussy, and what she'd done to me, and how she finally got me off, constantly tumbled through my mind. They fueled my fantasies and made every session with my own wife spicier. They always ended in a huge explosion of come, which she never knew was because Danielle owned my sexy thoughts.
So it was with great delight, as well as surprise, that I received a call from Danielle one day. I'd somehow managed to forget about giving her my number.
Her luscious alto purred over my phone, "Well HI, Dean. Know who it is?" I managed to gulp out a nervous affirmative. "Good. I'm going to be back in town next week. I'm doing another show. You can attend or not, but I DO expect you to show up at my hotel. That is, IF you can obey what I tell you...." She paused expectantly.
"Well, yes.... Yes, I can...." I stammered, feeling stunned and foolish. She had that effect on me, and probably all men. It had been incredible to actually have a sexual encounter with my ultimate fantasy girl, and the reality of it happening again blew me away.
"Very good, then," she replied smoothly, as if I'd just made a suave come-on to her, "it's a date. DON'T disappoint me, love." She hung up. My heart skipped a beat from horny anticipation. I made plans to be working in that town on the date of her show.
I did take in her show. I enjoyed burlesque, and watching her barely-clad, voluptuous form whirl gracefully- powerfully- through the song and dance numbers was like extended foreplay. As the thin veil of outer garments were tossed away from the performers, the sight of a gyrating Danielle stripped down to a tight-fitting black bustier, panties, a garter belt, and thigh-high hose made my prick stir restlessly. Her milky, well-inked, silky skin gleamed with a sheen of sweat. I thought forward of what she might be planning to do to me. I was near the front, and Danielle knew I was there.
But she mostly ignored me completely. However, briefly, her eyes lit on me. My own eyes had been on her strong white thighs, and I was trying with all my mental might to suppress getting a full erection in the middle of this crowd. She held my gaze for an instant, and a faint, knowing smile touched the corners of her lips. Then it was as if she'd never seen me. She spun and flounced away to another part of the stage, her full hips swaying alluringly.
When the show ended, Danielle and her troupe were treated to a well-deserved standing ovation. I had somehow managed not to develop a rail spike in my pants, and stood with everyone, applauding Danielle and her girls vigorously.
The crowd couldn't let out of the hot theater fast enough for me. I went to my car and got in, not sure to proceed. And, with Danielle being as she was, it wasn't smart to proceed without instructions.... I considered calling her number back, wondering if this was a "violation" of her absolute need to command. Just as this ran through my brain, my phone rang. It was Danielle's number. I answered instantly. "Hello, Danielle!" in a voice that I hoped sounded solid and submissive at the same time. Of course, it came out a bit shaky.
"HI Dean...."WELL done," she praised in her sexy alto voice, "Bet you don't know what to do yet, do you? Because I haven't told you. Oh, you DO learn well!" She sounded pleased.
She spoke on. "The rules remain the same, Dean. You do ONLY what I tell you to do. You speak only when spoken to. I know these are simple rules, but you seem a bit willful, Dean, so I'm reminding you. I'M the queen bee. All the honey you seek is mine to reward- and you know I'm quick to sting!" She gave a soft, playful chuckle. "So can you follow these rules?"
"Yes, Danielle, I'll obey you," I replied, my voice tight with lust and nervousness.
"Then I'm yours....so to speak," she rejoined. "Here's how it's going to happen. Go to my hotel. Be sure to dress nicely, and bring a briefcase. At the front desk, have them ring my suite. Tell them you have business with Ms. Colby-Cushman. You won't attract any attention- I do legitimate business all the time when I'm on tour. You'll take the front elevator to the top floor. I'm in the same suite as last time. Just knock at the left door. DO NOT knock at the right door- that's Sam's door."
I remembered Sam, all right. He was the living brick wall who served as Danielle's bodyguard. I wondered momentarily what kind of assailant she couldn't handle herself, that she'd need him for. It wasn't a comforting thought. Her voice cut this consideration off. "Do you understand me, Dean?" I affirmed that I did. "I'll see you soon, then.... and DON'T disappoint me." She broke our connection.
I followed her instructions to the letter. The pretty blond at the front desk and the thin, dark-eyed young guy operating the elevator never gave me a second glance- both of them were courteous, thoroughly efficient, and colossally bored with it all. Soon I was on Danielle's floor with the elevator doors swishing shut behind me. I stepped quickly over to her door- on the left- and wondered if Sam was poised behind his, waiting at any instant to spring into action. But no matter. I rapped gently at Danielle's door, and she instantly swung it open. Had she been waiting for me? My heartbeat sped up with anticipation and I swallowed dryly.
"WELL Dean, you certainly look businesslike," she teased, tilting her head playfully as her clear blue eyes twinkled. "How do I look?" She was wearing blue jeans- that followed her generous curves beautifully. She wore a red checked flannel shirt and had her hair in a casual pony tail. She was barefoot.
I thought she looked extremely sexy in this everyday garb, and said so. Boldly, I replied, "You look like the most fuckable thing I've ever seen." Too late, I wondered about her damned riding crop.
But she was amused by this particular audacity. Tilting her head the other way, she took her chin in her hand and gazed speculatively at me, luscious lips slightly turned up at the corners and eyes still sparkling with mischief. "Wellllll..... about that, we'll see." she replied. "Come with me now." She took my hand and led me through her suite.
Her housekeeping still left much to be desired- clothing everywhere, road cases and luggage scattered about. Did she make this much of a mess in one day, or did she just not want to be bothered by housekeepers? A familiar sight came to my eyes- a chrome metal tubing structure, padded in places, with levers and handles in various spots. It was enhanced with heavy ropes and padded cuffs. She had restrained me here last time, and clearly meant to again.
"Okay, Dean- put down that silly briefcase. You know what to do, don't you?" I nodded, and stepped in front of the device, facing her. She stood in front of me, and disrobed me quickly. She even had hangers for my suit- wouldn't do to wrinkle it, I guess- and hung it up on a door.
She teased my undershirt over my head, pausing a moment to trace delicately around my nipples with one long, red, lacquered nail. I couldn't see with my shirt partly off over my head, and this unexpected touch made me shiver. She laughed softly, sweetly, and left me with my hands awkwardly over my head and my shirt covering my face. Her warm breath puffed over the right side of my chest, and then her soft lips surrounded the nipple, which she flicked with her tongue. Her long fingernail continued its journey along my body, easing ever so gently down the hairs on my chest, around my navel, and down my belly to my waistband.
I was in a fever of anticipation by now, beginning to breathe hard. She took a second to flip my shirt off with her other hand, and now I could see. She was gazing up from my chest, right into my eyes. The finger with its long nail was still poised on my waistband. She straightened, eyes still locked onto mine. My prick was now fully, achingly erect, protruding from the fly of my shorts and desperate for attention. She looked down at it, then removed her finger from my waistband and used the finger to raise my throbbing prick, as if for inspection.
"Well Dean, I've said you may not be my BIGGEST fan- but this IS nice." She curved her fingers downward, like talons, and poised them on the waistband again, dangerously close to my sensitive, vulnerable cock. Then suddenly she YANKED my shorts down, snapping them painfully by my cock, nails just barely missing my manhood. Still focused on my pulsating dick, she said, "Step out of them." I stepped out of my underwear, and she tossed them carelessly aside. She looked me right in the eyes again, then went behind me, taking each arm and leg in turn, cuffing me to her restraint device.
"I've left you free to touch me, Dean," she instructed in a tone such as a teacher would use, "but only do that if I say so. Remember, there are consequences for disobedience." She curved the fingers of both hands into red-tipped talons. One she used to grip my scrotum and the other my penis; using the most delicate of touches. She traced them softly, softly, softly over the engorged flesh. The ethereal touch of her sharp fingernails on my manhood was both fearsome and agonizingly erotic. A thick drop of pre-come squeezed out of my prick head.
She knelt and with my male parts still caged in her fingers, placed a tiny kiss on my dick head with her luscious red lips, then trailed her tongue up my shaft, licking away the trail of pre-come. She placed another kiss on the head of my cock, this time engulfing it with her lips. The sensations of her hot mouth and her dangerous sexy nails were unbearable. I quivered violently, on the edge of explosive ejaculation, and struggled not to come all over her face. I would have loved to, but without permission? How would she react? She could emasculate me with one bloody clench of her hands....
