Cocktail Party 2

I've spoken with the other guests and they are all very excited to meet you. It's an interesting mix of people: some couples, some will be attending stag, as they say. All of them share a common interest, which is really what this evening is about.

I have selected your outfit for you. It's laid out on the bed. After you have showered, you will get dressed. Wear nothing other than what I have selected for you. Also, no perfumes and only a little makeup. I want the world to enjoy the natural you.

The dress waiting for you when you return from the shower is simple yet elegant. It's black and the sheer fabric clings to your body, accented your beautiful features and displaying your lovely curves. It's backless, swooping low and just barely covering your buttocks. Between this, the plunging neckline, and the two delicate straps the tie behind your neck, you can see why there are no undergarments laid out for you. The shoes are also simple but designed to flatter your beautiful form -- sling back, open toed heels. Your feet are openly displayed and stockings, had they been included in your outfit, wouldn't look right with these shoes. The eight inch heels keeps your spine straight, causing your breasts and bottom to jut out alluringly.

I tell you how beautiful you look, kissing you and staring into your eyes. I hand you a black clutch purse and warn you sternly not to open it. It's time to go. A long black car is waiting for us, back door ajar.

During the car ride I sit with my arm possessively around you. I stroke your knee and thigh softly and almost absentmindedly. It's plain that I have much on my mind. From a glance at the bulge in the black silk fabric of my pants, you can tell they are erotic notions.

We arrive at a beautiful hotel. I whisk you through the lobby. I deviate my glance only once from the polished bronze of the elevator doors to return the subtle nod from the concierge. The elevator arrives swiftly, but still you feel as though the people in the lobby stare at you. Could they be other party guests? Their gaze makes you aware of the thin fabric that covers your nakedness. Your arousal heightens. Surely, they must see your nipples pucker and harden.

In the elevator I press a button and then slip a hand beneath the hair at the back of your neck. I pull you toward me for a brief but savage kiss. You taste the hunger on my lips. I whisper to you hoarsely, "You are mine. Remember that this evening. No matter what happens tonight, you belong to me. When this is finished, you come home with me."

With a ding, the elevator doors open on a marble foyer. Dark flowers stand in massive vases between velvet couches. Mirrors line the walls and across from the elevator two ornately inlaid doors stand open. The next room is sumptuous in deep reds and muted gold. The subdued lighting comes from dim chandeliers and candles. I take your hand and lead you into the next room. You stand on the deep, plush carpet while I close doors behind us. Glancing around, you are surprised to find we are the only ones in the room.

"You should eat something before the guests arrive," I tell you. I lead you toward the back of the room, our feet making no sound on the soft carpet. Drinks are ready on either side of the room, and the smell of scotch, brandy and red wine fills the room. We walk to a large and sturdy looking table, waxed and polished to reflect the candle flicker around it. I draw a chair for you and pour you a glass of wine. Setting your glass down on the table, you notice it is bare. I hold a strawberry to your lips. Its juice slides down your chin as you bite into its flesh. I'm quick to lick the escaping droplets.

It doesn't take long to finish our brief meal. Neither of us is hungry. We are saving our appetite for other things. I urge you to finish your wine, and then another glass. The warmth of the red wine adds to your arousal, spreading its heat across your belly and chest and reddening your lips and cheeks. Through the haze of seduction, you notice the soft and distant ding of the elevator. Did you hear it before, too?

"Open your purse." Your attention snaps back to me. My voice is firm but not loud, and you recognize it for the tone I use to master you. This is a directive, not a request, and the lust is clearly audible in my command. "Do it."

Inside the purse you find a long and black silk scarf, soft braided gold cord, and something that looks like long plumes of feathers flowing from a hard plastic handle.

"I'll take this," I say as I grab the thing that looks like an oddly shaped feather duster. "You need to get ready for our guests."

Quickly, almost before you can react, I grab your wrists and wrap them tightly with the braided gold chord. By the time the knot is set, your forearms are bound against each other in front of you. Using the long end of the chord, I pull you from the chair and jerk you toward the wall. There, unnoticed almost a yard above your head, hangs a sturdy brass ring. I thread the chord through the ring and pull. Your arms rise quickly above your head as you stretch to your full height. I tie off the soft golden chord and scoop up the black scarf.

"I think you know where this is going," I purr into your ear as I start to wrap the scarf around your eyes. I pause and lower your blindfold. Taking your head between my hands I kiss you again. My gaze is intense as I tell you once again, "Remember, no matter what, you are mine." One last kiss and the blindfold is back in place. Your darkness is absolute.

You feel my fingers brush your lips, then across the fabric covering the nipple of your left breast, and finally trailing down your belly and slipping under your dress and into your wetness. You gasp and the fingers find their way back to your lips, smearing them lightly with your flowing juices. You hear the sound of me sucking my fingers before I say, "Now to welcome in our guests." You cannot hear my footsteps as I leave to open the large double doors at the other end of the room.

Ever muscle of your body strains, perched on your toes with your arms raised over your head. But your ears strain harder, listening for clues of what is happening at the other end of the room. The carpeting muffles much of the sound, but you are sure you can hear my welcoming tones as people enter the room. Soon you start to hear the sounds of glasses being filled and begin to smell alcohol. The guests must be pouring themselves drinks. The murmur in the room takes a conversational tone. Occasionally laughter can be hear, some of it unmistakably women's laughter.

You shift your weight from one foot to the other in an effort to relieve some of the strain from being stretched against the wall. But it's only partial relief and there's nothing you can do to stop the slow ache of your arms bound so tightly above your head. What must I look like? you think to yourself. You tilt your head back, as if to avoid the stares you know will come soon. At least with the blindfold on, you feel as though you can keep some of your privacy. Who could recognize you later if they saw your face? Then, with a shock of embarrassment and shame, you begin to wonder how many people here know you already. Unconsciously, you squirm against the wall. But rubbing the sheer fabric of your dress against the wall just makes you more aware of how little you are wearing, and you blush even harder. Underlying all of this is your lust. You want this. You enjoy being treated as an erotic object. You begin to think, Am I the slut I think I am?

Suddenly the voices stop and you can hear me speaking. Although you cannot discern the words, you imagine I must be talking about you to the assembled guests. There is a sudden burst of laughter, no doubt the group responding to some joke I've made at your expense. A few more words and then the guests begin to murmur again.

Horrifyingly, the voices are growing louder. The carpet erases all sounds of footsteps, but you know the guests must be coming this way. Oh God. There is no avoiding their gaze now. You are the complete center of everyone's attention.

Straining to hear over the sound of your heartbeat, your breathing also loud in your ears, you struggle to make out what they are saying. Is it appreciation or criticism you hear in their tones? One woman's voice rises above the others.

"Oh, she really is a lovely thing." Her voice, like mine has been all evening, is husky with desire. Several men, in quieter tones, agree. This woman is bold. "Can I touch her?"

You're horrified at the request. Even blinded, you can feel the gazes of these strangers -- Oh God, are they strangers? -- caress and fondle you. But to have someone actually touch you? You can feel your cheeks burning. Someone else notices and you hear him points your embarrassment out to the others.

"I think you should touch her." You gasp at these words. How could I let this woman fondle you? You turn your sightless eyes towards the sound of my voice. A gloved hand catches your cheek.

"So lovely," the woman's voice coos from right in front of you. The satin glove feels cool against your shame burned face and it slide down your cheek to gently stroke your neck. The hand hesitates.

My voice fills the void. "Please, don't be shy." And the hand begins to move again.

The woman lets her fingers drift purposefully down your front, avoiding contact with the thin fabric of your dress. It's obvious what its target is, but you gasp all the same as her hand dips into the open section of your cleavage. A finger strokes the inside curve of your left breast before moving to press and cup your right. An appreciative purr escapes from the woman's throat and your left breast is likewise captured in the unknown woman's hand. She squeezes them twice before weighing each boob in her palm. Then she begins to roll both nipples between her thumb and forefinger. "Lovely tits," she whispers hoarsely.

My voice cuts in again, this time just inches from your face. "Don't stop there." You feel my hand -- It is my hand, isn't it? -- move between your uplifted arm and neck, snaking under your hair. There's a tug, the sound of the straps slithering out of their knot, and your dress falls open at the front.

The group is appreciative as your breasts fall free of the dress, and it's not just the one pair of gloved hands that you feel on your skin now. Hands are all over you, pawing at your breasts, squeezing them and pulling harshly at your nipples. Each tug sends another electric shock of pleasure straight down to your pussy. You're panting now, head thrown back in agony and joy.

A hands slip under the edges of your dress where it clings low on your hips. It doesn't take much coaxing to send it straight to the floor. You stand helpless and naked now, not just open to view but the plaything of strangers. You can feel the heat of embarrassment and shame covering you, clothing you in a way your dress never could. The heat burns your cheeks and chest with desire and humiliation. It prickles your skin and escapes your lips as hot moans and whimpers. You're both grateful to the blindfold you wear and tortured by it. It's the last shred of modesty and anonymity you have, but every new violation comes unanticipated because of your blindness.

Hands creep everywhere on your body now. They stroke your cheek as fingers press into your mouth to be sucked. Fingernails drag slowly down your back as your ass is clutched and smacked, palms leaving scorched places where they strike your buttocks. Pairs of hands run up and down your sides, pressing your tits flat against your chest before dragging themselves across your ribs and over your belly. They press and stroke at your thighs now, and it doesn't take long before they are pressed against your sex. Fingers rub your clit mercilessly as another hand pushes your inner lips apart to feel the wetness within. And you are very, very wet.

You are slow to realize that the twisting of your nipples has been replaced by wetness and sucking. The party has moved from just touching to licking and sucking. Another mouth bites you on the spanked part of your ass. Still another sucks and nibbles at your other tit, the two mouths clamped to your breasts pushing you further toward ecstasy. Fingers press inside your pussy but another mouth covers yours before you can cry out, its tongue darting in and out of your mouth in staccato rhythm to the fingers inside you.

An arm hooks under your knee, lifting one leg. Your weight drops painfully to the leg and your already tortured arms feel like they are being pulled slowly from their sockets. The muscles of your shoulders begin to spasm and tremble when your feel the kisses start tracing down your belly. Teeth pinch playfully at the flesh of your inner thigh and then pause. Suddenly there is a mouth covering your sex. Its tongue darts inside you, crazy deep inside you, before leaving. Another mouth takes the first one's place and it sucks your clit hard, tongue flicking harsh and fast. Climax and complete collapse race to see which will claim you first.

My voice again cuts through the fog of pleasure and pain, the many hands and mouths fall promptly away. You feel my face close to yours, our bodies touching briefly but intimately, then your arms suddenly fall free. You collapse forward and I catch you, wrapping my strength around your quivering form. I lift you into my arms and you fold your head against my shoulder, nuzzle my neck. I whisper "It's not over yet," and you feel the hard, smooth surface of the wooden table beneath you. It's cool, a welcome salve for your tortured buttocks.

I lay you out on your back, and bring your arms again over your head. "Do you promise to be a good girl?" The question comes as you feel my hands against your bonds. The implication is unmistakable. I will untie you but you comply. Your wrists ache from being bound, but I jerk the cord hard and ask again, "Are you going to be a good girl?"

You whimper and breathlessly whisper Yes. I knew you would. I untie your arms and rub them briefly to help get the feeling back into them. The blindfold stays securely in place.

You hear me raise my voice to address the party. "Remember, you may do anything to her that you wish, so long as you do not fuck her. Oral and hands only. You may, of course, do anything you'd like to each other, as I see some of you have already started to do." Laughter. And the games begin again in earnest.

Mouths and hands move swiftly to your body, but there is a different atmosphere now: one tinged with desperation and wantonness. The mouth that sucks your pussy moans into you and cannot seem to stay focused. Hands still grasp at your breasts but they too seem driven to distraction. All around you, you hear grunts and moans. You realize slowly that there are hands touching other bodies, mouths on other organs. The moans and rhythmic bobbing of the mouth against your clit tells you that its owner is being fucked from behind.

And there is something new, too. The mouth that moves away from your face is replaced by something else. It's not a hard tongue the presses against your lips now, but the shaft of a hard cock. You are told to lick it and the shaft travels across the length of your mouth. Another mouth joins yours to suck and lick at the throbbing members. When she demands to have the cock in her mouth, you recognize the voice of the woman who first touched you, the one with the gloves. Your tongue licks the rim of her stretched lips as she takes the cock deeply into her mouth. She begins to buck and moan around the cock in her mouth and you realize that she, too, is being fucked.

All around you, you can hear the signs that the party has begun to pair off into couples and, in the case of the gloved woman, threesomes. The table bumps and shakes to the beat of wild fucking, all of it happening next to you. The room fills with the scent of sex.

Amid it all you feel my hands on you, guiding your over and on to your knees. The gloved woman delightedly says, "Yes! I'm been waiting for this," and between grunts and moans and slurping echo her joy.

I urge you to arch your back, press your tits against the table. You feel the light whip and tickle of something against your ass. "Do you remember the feathers, dear? Well, it's time for you to put on your cock tail." The party takes up the chant of "Cock tail!" as you feel me begin to press the hard plastic of the plume's handle into your ass. It takes some stretching, but my hand is slow if relentlessly forceful. The pain doesn't come from the insertion, but it is agonizing in its humiliation. The party cheers as the cock tail slips home, firmly gripped by your ass. "Swish your tail for the nice people" I command, swatting your buttocks to get the motion right.

The crowd is delighted, and the humping shakes the table even harder. Women's voice rise to screams as climax takes them violently. Men grunt hoarsely in the telltale sound of their coming ejaculation. Suddenly you feel the first hot spray across your back. And then another hits your ass, hard and wet. More strikes your face, smearing across your nose and into your mouth. You're soaked in cum. It drips from your body as it cools.

It doesn't take long for the guests to leave. To their credit, everyone of them thanks you warmly and kisses your cheek as they leave. Stillness tell you they must all be gone when you feel the plug being eased from your ass. Even though the lights are dim, the brightness hurts your eyes as I ease the blindfold from your face. I stand before you, smiling. My tie has been undone, but I am completely clothed. I kiss you passionately, tell you how pleased I am, how wonderful you are, and begin to undress.

"I saved myself for you. You don't know how difficult it was, watching your beautiful body in the throws of passion. God, you make me hard." I open my pants and you see it's true. In a moment I am on you, our lovemaking passionate and fierce. We hold nothing back. When we come, we come together, as one. I collapse onto you, and we lay still on the big wooden table for what seems like an eternity.