CHAPTER TEN
It was hard to keep my nervousness at bay with Damien's words echoing in my mind, “This party is as much about showing you off as it is about socializing.” Every move I made would be a reflection of his training skills as a Dominant. I knew it was important for me to be perfect.
Not only did I want to do well for Damien's sake, but I wanted to show the blonde woman that Damien and I were in sync. He belonged to me now. Our relationship was seamless, and he had no need for her in his life. I wasn't sure how she had been as a submissive, but I wanted to be better, or at least fake that I was.
When I wasn't busy cleaning the house or doing homework, I would practice my submissive positions, go over my vocabulary words, and try to anticipate the things that would be expected of me at the party. The rules of social interaction played over in my head like a broken record. Damien is the most important person in the room. Serve Damien first. Don't speak without permission. Treat everyone with respect. Ask before entering the room. Always call Damien Sir. Use proper titles for the other Doms and Dommes.
For all of my practicing though, by the time I got to Damien's doorstep that afternoon, I was no less nervous. Part of me thought I wasn't ready for this, but it was too late to turn back now. This afternoon would be a true test of everything I had learned about being a submissive. I was certain that if I screwed it up, my punishment would be severe.
Damien opened the door looking no different than normal. As silly as it was, I was beginning to wonder if I'd ever see him in leather. He had changed my perspective about the BDSM lifestyle on a lot of fronts. What I had imagined in my mind was far from the reality of things.
“Are you nervous?” he asked as he led me into the classroom.
“A bit, Sir,” I admitted, taking a seat on the bed.
“Don't be. I'm sure you'll do fine.”
“You really think so?”
“I wouldn't have planned this if I didn't think so.”
“What if I screw up though?” I cringed at the thought.
“You won't.”
“How do you know?”
“Because we're going to do a lot of practicing. By the time everyone gets here, your actions and reactions should come natural.”
His words did help to ease my nerves a little.
“So, what do we do first?” I asked.
“First, I want you to take off all of your clothing except for your underwear and your . . .” He looked down at my black ballerina flats. “Those won't do. Let me see your underwear.”
I blushed at his request, though I wasn't sure why. It wasn't like Damien hadn't seen me in my panties dozens of times already. Obediently, I pulled down my skirt, revealing the black lace panties beneath. They were a mix of practical and sexy, with a solid front but a see-through backside accented with a cute little bow.
Damien nodded approvingly. “Finish getting undressed. Everything but your underwear. I'll be right back.”
He exited the room, leaving me wondering if we were going to have a kink session before the guests arrived. While the idea made me all hot and bothered, I really felt like I needed all the time to practice I could get. Regardless, the choice wasn't mine. It was Damien's rules, and we'd do whatever he wanted.
While I waited for him to return, I finished undressing and folded my clothes to place them on the chest of drawers. If I'd improved on anything since being Damien's submissive in training, it was definitely learning how to fold dress clothes. They didn't always come out perfectly, but he rarely complained or punished me for it anymore.
After several moments, Damien returned with a shoebox. He opened it up, revealing a pair of shiny black six-inch stilettos. I grunted at them, realizing I'd probably be wearing them for the entire party. Hopefully, I'd get a foot massage as a reward if I did well for the afternoon. It looked like I would be needing one.
“Are they the right size?” I asked, silently praying they weren't.
“You're a nine and a half, right?”
Damn. “Yes.”
“Put them on.”
I did as I was told, setting the box aside as I slipped into the shoes. They were, not surprisingly, uncomfortable. New shoes usually were.
“How long is this party going to be, Sir?”
“However long people feel like staying,” Damien replied, assessing my attire one final time before turning to the chest of drawers to open it.
I didn't like that answer. It was so inconclusive. However long could be anything from one hour to all night.
Chains rattled in the drawer as Damien rummaged through it. When he turned back to me, he had several sets of restraints in his hands as well as a thick leather collar.
“Take your training collar off,” he told me. “You're going to be wearing this tonight.”
Damien handed me the new collar and then knelt to place cuffs on my ankles. I watched him with apprehension, now completely confused about what was going on.
“Is this our kink session, Sir?” I asked.
“No. This is what you'll be required to wear to serve our guests.”
My heart dropped to the pit of my stomach. He couldn't possibly be serious. There was maybe only half a foot of chain between the two ankle cuffs. Taking normal steps would be impossible. I'd have to waddle around like a penguin. Not to mention I was naked. Did he really expect me to show my body to an entire room of people I didn't know?
“Aren't you worried I'll trip and embarrass you, Sir?”
“No,” he replied plainly.
The new collar was thick leather, wider and heavier than my collar of consideration but with a soft lambskin lining to protect my neck from irritation. Damien attached a lightweight chain to the O ring. It hung loosely between my breasts, splitting off just below my navel to turn into wrist restraints, which Damien fastened in place. I had about a foot of space between them. With both sets of fetters on, serving anyone was going to be a real chore.
When Damien was done securing my bonds, he took a step back to admire his handiwork. “How does that feel?”
“Restrictive,” I dragged out the word, doing a poor job at hiding my discontent.
“No one said this was going to be easy.” Damien smirked at me.
“It never is with you, Sir.”
“Oh, come now, I make some things easy.” He bent forward, roughly groping one of my breasts and flicking his tongue across the nipple. My breath hitched as all the pleasure sensors in my body turned on at once. Then he sucked it into his mouth, moaning softly against my skin as his tongue swirled and danced until the nub was peaked from stimulation. I felt completely subdued, wanting to tangle my fingers in his hair but knowing I had to keep my carnal desires at bay.
“You're evil,” I grumbled when he finally came up for air.
Damien stepped dangerously close to me, sliding a hand between my legs. His finger skillfully slipped between my pussy lips, and I felt my legs involuntarily trying to spread for it, though it was pointless with the restraints.
“And you're wet,” he whispered into my ear. “That was easy.”
Hate you. So much. Right now.
Playfully, I nipped at his collarbone, hoping he'd give in and take me. He wouldn't even have to undo my restraints. Damien was such a sexual Houdini that he could probably fuck me fifty different ways around them. Oh how I wanted him to try.
But instead, he stepped away, retreating to his chair and leaving me sexually frustrated. I penguin-walked forward, sitting myself on his lap and grabbing at the front of his jeans. It must have looked rather humorous because he was grinning the entire time he was slapping my hands away.
“You're not behaving,” he warned.
“You started it,” I complained, knowing I wouldn't win. Stubborn stubborn man, he was.
As a consolation prize, Damien leaned forward to give me a peck on the lips. It wasn't near what I wanted, but I knew I would have to settle. There was a lot yet to be done before the guests arrived, and for as horny as I was, I did need to get some practice in.
“If not fucking, then what do we do now?” I asked.
“Now we go over what's expected of you,” Damien replied, wrapping his arms loosely around my waist.
“What's expected of me?”
“When the guests begin to arrive, I want you to answer the door. You will greet all Doms as Sir and all Dommes as Miss. If someone requests that you call them by a different title, honor their request. You will take all coats and place them in the coat closet, then you will lead the guests into the living room and offer refreshments. There is tea, soda, juice, and water in the kitchen. Pretend you're a waitress. Everyone's glass should be filled before they even have to ask for a refill.
“When you're not serving, you will be parked in a corner of the room. I'll show you where when we get into the living room. While you're parked, you're not to make a sound. I want you to be as still as a statue. Keep your eyes to the floor and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone.
“You will not need to request permission to leave or enter the living room if you are going to refill someone's glass. However, you will have to request permission to leave and enter the living room for any other reason. That includes using the restroom.
“When all the guests have arrived, we will retreat to the dining room for dinner. At that time, you will serve me first, then the rest of the table in a clockwise rotation. When the first course has been served, you will park yourself in the corner until someone needs a drink refill. I've hired a chef to prepare a three-course meal for the evening. When the guests are finished with the first course, you will pick up all the plates and take them to the kitchen, then serve the next course.
“While you are under my protection, you should know the guests are allowed to touch you. You may be spanked or have your breasts groped, but no one is allowed to touch your cunt.”
Even though the idea of being spanked sent happy shivers to my groin, the thought of being touched by strangers made me uncomfortable. Sharing my body wasn't something I had signed up for. In fact, I distinctly remembered it being on my list of hard limits.
“I thought we agreed I wouldn't be shared,” I said meekly.
Damien gave me a quizzical look. “You're not being shared.”
“You just said the guests are allowed to touch me.”
“Touching you isn't the same as sharing you,” he paused. “Does the idea make you uncomfortable?”
“A little.”
“If anything, I thought you'd be excited about it. You enjoy being spanked, if I recall, and there are quite a few attendees who enjoy spanking as well. They will respect your safety words, so if at any time you feel too uncomfortable, you can use them, and they'll back off or release you.”
That did make me feel a little better. It wasn't like he was just going to throw me to the wolves. Maybe it would be alright after all. I was long overdue for a good spanking, and the thought of being stimulated while I served wasn't exactly horrible.
“Alright,” I agreed.
“Once everyone has finished with dessert, you'll refill their glasses before we return to the living room. You'll be given fifteen minutes to clear the table, after which you'll be expected to join us. You will check everyone's beverages a final time, and then you will perform for our entertainment.”
“Perform?” The word caught me off guard. Damien had mentioned I would be required to entertain his guests, but he had never mentioned how I would go about doing it. I was almost afraid to ask.
“It's basically a demonstration of obedience,” he told me.
I could only imagine that meant I'd be expected to demonstrate my knowledge of the position commands. Hopefully, Damien would be pleased in my performance, since I had spent a large portion of the day practicing them, so I wouldn't screw up.
Damien continued, “When it's time for our guests to leave, you will promptly retrieve their belongings from the coat closet and thank them for coming as you walk them to the door. That's pretty much it.”
“It doesn't sound too difficult. The hardest part is going to be walking and moving in all of this.” I held up my wrist restraints with a scowl.
“No.” He shook his head. “I think the hardest part for you is going to be remembering to call me Sir. Please remember to do it in front of them. It means a lot to me, and as a reward, I'll never punish you for forgetting to say it in private again, though I might still verbally chastise you from time to time.”
“I thought we had already agreed you weren't going to punish me for forgetting to say it.”
“I never promised that. I've just been lenient lately because I feel like you spend more time being punished than the time we spend together, and though it may not have seemed like it since your training began, I do rather enjoy spending time with you.”
My heart flooded with warmth at his words. These rare moments when Damien expressed his enjoyment of my company were precious to me. It made me want to try even harder to please him.
“Yes, Sir,” I replied with a happy sigh, “I promise not to let you down.”
“That's my girl.” He kissed me tenderly on the lips before giving my ass a gentle slap. “Now, up with you. We should probably do a bit of role-play before the guests arrive so you'll be ready.”
“Yes, Sir.” I nodded enthusiastically, then carefully lifted myself off his lap.
The next hour and a half was spent role-playing. First, Damien played the part of a guest. I greeted him, took his coat, led him inside, served him real tea in the living room and an imaginary plate of food in the dining room. He showed me where to park myself in both rooms, the position that he wanted me to stand in, and made me practice the serving rotation in the dining room several times. With the ankle cuffs allowing me only limited mobility, it made me feel like I was moving at a snail's pace.
My performance was far from flawless, but instead of punishing me for my mistakes, Damien simply corrected me and gave me guidance. He seemed especially patient tonight, perhaps knowing that pressuring me would only make me more nervous and likely to screw up.
By the time the first guests arrived, I felt pretty confident in my abilities and was well into submissive mode. Oddly, I was more worried about being seen topless than I was about making a mistake.
I opened the door with a smile. The first guests to arrive were an older Dom and his female submissive. They were both dressed casually, and it made me wonder if BDSM people actually wore fetish gear at all. Playing my role, I took their coats, placed them in the coat closet, and led them into the living room where Damien took over the greetings, and I immediately went to retrieve their requested beverages.
Both of them had given me a good look over, which made my cheeks grow warm. Would I be punished for blushing? I wondered. Probably not, if Damien didn't see it. How could he punish me for blushing anyway? It's not like I could control it. Besides, this was all new and strange for me. Surely, he understood I wouldn't react to it the same way as someone who had done this a dozen times before.
As I reached the kitchen, the smell of meat filled my nostrils. On the menu tonight was a light garden salad followed by beef wellington and mashed potatoes. Dessert would be crème brulee garnished with fresh strawberries. My mouth watered just watching the chef prepare the food. His mouth was watering for another reason.
When Damien introduced us, he seemed embarrassed to look upon my mostly nude body, but the second it was just him and I alone in the kitchen, all modesty went out the window. His eyes were glued to my breasts, watching my every move. The tent in his pants was apparent, and I could only imagine that his mind was far from cooking. To be honest, I was more uncomfortable around him than anyone else. Damien's friends were accustomed to seeing the naked bodies of strangers, and they handled it with tact. This guy looked like he had never seen a pair of large tits in his entire life.
Trying to ignore the pervert in the kitchen, I went about my duties, thinking about how I wasn't going to be able to partake in the meal until after everyone had left. Damien didn't want me eating before the guests arrived because he was concerned it would bloat me and make me look less appealing. It was kind of a rude assumption, but I could understand. After all, as he had said, tonight was largely about showing me off, so he wanted me to be as perfect as possible.
Walking in the heels and ankle cuffs was a real pain in the ass. By the time half of the guests had arrived, my feet were aching, but I knew I had to press on.
It wasn't long before I had gotten into the swing of things. The guests were all talking to each other, hardly even acknowledging my existence past the point of me greeting them at the door. To be honest, despite the pain in my feet, I was actually starting to have fun. Instead of pretending to be a waitress, as Damien had suggested, I imagined I was a penguin, waddling around, listening to conversation but unable to say anything because, after all, penguins can't talk.
My parade got rained on when Mistress Danica arrived. She had come alone, and looked equally as seductive and stunning as the time I had met her. When I opened the door, she made no attempt to hide that she was looking me up and down. To my surprise, she even reached out and groped one of my breasts. I gasped in shock, and she just giggled.
“Nice and supple,” she commented with a grin as she handed me her coat. It was large and expensive looking, red fur with streaks of black, probably fox, though I couldn't be sure. Fur coats had never been appealing to me. They looked nice, but I didn't like the idea of killing an animal just for its skin. I thought about peaking at the tag to see if it was faux, but that would have been rude.
Beneath the coat was a sexy black vinyl corset trimmed in red. Danica's breasts were pushed up high, threatening to spill out. There was no doubt in my mind that Damien would be glancing at them again, and that made jealousy rip through me like shards of glass. Hopefully, he'd be looking at me more. After all, I was the topless one.
The corset was complimented with tight leather pants and finished off with vinyl boots that had heels every bit as tall as mine. All in all, she was the only one at the party who looked the part of her BDSM role. She was dominatrix, Domme, Mistress, through and through.
I tried not to frown as I led her to the rest of the guests, watching Damien's eyes as soon as he came into sight. He seemed to light up when she stepped into the room. Then again, so did every other guy. She was sex on legs, and it pissed me off.
By the time I was sent to fetch her a bottle of water, I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. No, Chey. Not now. Don't get upset. She hasn't done anything. You can't let this get to you. Nothing is going on between them.
They had hugged though, too tightly, for too long. And he had glanced at her breasts. And she had fucked him with her eyes. I could see it all, even if they didn't know I was watching.
When I got to the kitchen, I lingered there for a while, trying to recompose myself. Why do you let this woman have such of an effect on you? She's the past. You're the now. Nothing is going on between them.
The pervert cook stared at me, licking his lips as if I was more delicious than the food. Why doesn't Damien look at me like that? I want him to look at me like that. Not her.
It couldn't be helped though. Whatever went on between them tonight, whatever looks that they gave each other, whatever subtle touches she tried to get away with, I would have to endure it—endure it for him, because this is what he wants. This is what will make our relationship stronger. And this will show her that I am better for him than she ever was.
I took a deep breath, straightened myself, and strode out of the kitchen . . . well, waddled out of the kitchen, with as much confidence as I could muster. Danica had integrated herself with the group, talking and laughing. Thankfully, guests had already filled up the seats closest to Damien, so she was a safe distance away. That made me feel a little better.
After handing Danica the bottle of water she had requested, I did my best to ignore her until the other guests arrived. Thankfully, she was a slow drinker, so I didn't have to attend to her.
It wasn't much longer before everyone showed up. There were twelve people, including Damien, which was easy enough to keep up with. I spent a good amount of time parked, which allowed me to listen in on the conversation. One of the Doms said he was having a large dungeon built on his property and would be holding a play party when it was finished. Damien told him we would attend, which gave me something else to both look forward to and dread.
Finally, Damien called everyone into the dining room for dinner. I did my duty filling up glasses before going to retrieve the salads. The serving was slow, since I wasn't a practiced waitress and could only carry two bowls at a time. If I had full use of my arms, I might have been able to manage more, but I didn't want to chance it.
I shuffled along, serving Damien first and then making the clockwise rotation, clanking as I went. Oddly, this was when everyone started to feel the need to touch me. One of the Domme's poked at me when I placed her salad in front of her. It was strange to be touched in such a way, and I honestly didn't know how to react, so I just finished what I was doing and continued on as if nothing was happening to me at all.
By the time the first course was served, the people who had initially received their salads were already finishing. Apparently, it wasn't proper etiquette in the BDSM circle to wait until everyone had been served before they started eating. Bored with waiting, one of the Dom's called me over. I thought he wanted a different beverage, but as soon as I flanked his side, he pulled his chair out, grabbed me by the wrist manacles and yanked me down over his lap.
My gasping was met with a round of light laughter from the rest of the party. Nervously, I glanced over at Damien, who looked back at me with a deadpan expression before continuing his conversation with the Dom to his left. Others whispered their amusement about how I was in trouble.
I turned to look at the man who had captured me right before I felt the first smack across my ass. He rubbed my cheeks between slaps, alternating them. The pressure was light but pleasurable, and I felt myself becoming aroused, enjoying the spanking, wishing he would do it harder.
A hand tangled into my hair, gripping me harshly and drawing my head forward. That's when I realized who the hand belonged to. Danica stared down at me with dominant eyes. I wanted to be angry at her for touching me, but the forcefulness of it coupled with the spanking only worked to arouse me more.
Oh God, what's wrong with me? I shouldn't be liking this. This woman is my enemy, but. . .
“You're such a cute little thing,” she said. “You like having that ass spanked, don't you?”
I nodded, tensing up as I felt my underwear being pulled down. My backside was full of heat, my body quickly flooding with lust. In that moment, they could have done anything they wanted to me. I was a slave to my desire.
Despite my anticipation, everything was over almost as soon as it had begun. Danica released my hair, and the gentleman whose lap I had been leaning over pushed me back up, practically forcing me to stand. I wasn't sure what to do, and it took a moment of staring blankly before my legs began to work again. Instinctively, I reached down to pull up my underwear, but one of the Domme's called to me not to touch them, so I let them fall, further impeding my movement as they caught on my ankle cuffs.
Before long, I was in the grasp of another Domme. This one thought it would be fun to claw her nails across my ass. The pressure she used was far from pleasant, and it made me remember scratching down Damien's back, how I had made him bleed. If it felt anything like this, then I couldn't imagine him enjoying it. Then again, he was also distracted by sex at the time. I had nothing to distract me from what was being done. That was, until the Dom I was facing began fondling my breasts.
This was attention I had expected to receive in the living room, not in the dining room where everyone was hungry and waiting on food. Apparently, their hunger extended beyond food, and touching my flesh was more important. It was a flattering thought, though I still didn't know what to make of everything that was going on. I had never imagined I would allow so many strange people to touch me like this—that I'd actually enjoy it.
I was breathing heavily by the time the Domme was finished with me. She had clawed and spanked my ass until it burned something fierce. While I didn't dare to take the time to look over my shoulder, I could only imagine that my ass was a mess of pink welts and hand prints.
Throughout the entire serving experience, I was subjected to spankings, breast groping, and nipple pinching. By the time the dinner was over, there wasn't a person in the room who hadn't touched me . . . except for Damien. He kept his hands to himself, watching me move around the room as if what was going on wasn't phasing him at all.
When the guests retired to the living room, I cleared the table and then hung out in the kitchen for a while to reflect on everything. The chef was washing the dishes, but he still ogled me between plates, making it hard for me to focus.
The blonde woman touched me. She touched me and I liked it. The thought absolutely repulsed me. Though I considered myself bi-sexual, and I did find Danica attractive, I couldn't picture her as anyone but the enemy.
I had liked a lot of the other things that had gone on too though, the groping and the spankings. What did that say about me? I wasn't sure, but it was making me confused and a bit emotional.
Don't analyze this now. If you spend too much time thinking about it, you'll never get through the night. All that's left is your performance. You can do this.
I took a deep breath and headed back into the lion's den, filling up cups and trying to psych myself out for what was to come by going over all the positions in my head. This was the last part I needed to get right. Then the party would be over, and I could sort out my feelings.
As soon as all the beverages were refreshed, Damien announced it was time for my demonstration. I noticed that Danica had managed to worm her way closer to him, which filled me with discontent, though there was nothing that I could do about it. Obediently, I took center stage in the middle of the living room and waited for my first command while the party goers watched me intently.
“Come,” Damien said, and I waddled over to him.
To my relief, he extracted a set of keys from his pocket and released me from my bondage. Of course, it made sense, because I couldn't perform most of the positions without full mobility. When he unfastened my ankle cuffs, he took my underwear with them, leaving me naked except for the high heels. Then he sent me back to the center of the room to await his next command.
“Pleasure yourself,” he told me.
That wasn't a position I remembered. In fact, it wasn't a position at all. For a moment, I was confused, standing there dumbstruck. The rest of the party watched me in anticipation, whispering to one another. Damien's gaze was steel, never breaking, looking on expectantly.
He wants me to obey. This is what he meant by demonstrating my obedience. It had nothing to do with positions.
My chest felt tight, and I was suddenly afraid. There were so many eyes on me, crawling all over me, soaking in every centimeter of my flesh. What he was asking of me was to share something very personal with the entire room. I didn't think I could go through with it.
“It's alright, sweetie,” one of the Doms tried to comfort me. “We're not going to bite.”
“Let's see that cunt,” another one said, his tone every bit as vulgar as his words.
I looked to Damien for protection, but he just nodded.
With a deep breath, I crouched down, bowing my legs and exposing myself to the room for their viewing pleasure. Unpleasant emotions raged through me. Fear, embarrassment, guilt, confusion. I tried my hardest to pretend I was alone. Then again, if I was alone I wouldn't be in such an awkward position.
It won't take long. Just get it over with, and they'll leave. If you stop now, it's all over for you and Damien. If you embarrass him, he'll disown you.
The thought spurred me on to slip a hand between my legs, rubbing my fingers back and forth across my slit, though I derived no pleasure from it. My mind was constantly vigilant of the eyes upon me.
“At least pretend you're enjoying it,” the vulgar man said.
“Spread those pussy lips. Let's see what's inside,” Danika told me.
I took her advice, scissoring my fingers to expose my inner workings, though I couldn't force myself to look happy about it.
“That's a good girl,” Danica continued, “Now rub yourself and moan a bit.”
For as much as I hated the woman, I desperately needed the direction. I did as I was told, rubbing and moaning and faking it.
“Now rub those titties,” someone else said, and I followed their command too, groping my breasts.
Despite my nervousness, my body seemed to be responding well enough. My nipples were perked, hard nubs beneath my fingertips. Each gently pinching and rolling of them caused a shot of need to travel straight to my cunt, and eventually I began relaxing and actually wanting to touch myself. Having a wanton body has its advantages, I supposed.
Finally able to get into it, I put both hands on my breasts, kneading them, pressing them together, pulling them apart, and then going back to tease my nipples. My body seemed to be on sensitivity overdrive under the watchful eyes of my voyeurs, and I found myself growing greedy, wishing someone would come and take one of my nipples in their mouth, or stuff their fingers into my wet cunt. Of course, my first thought was of Damien. Oddly, the second person I fantasized about was Danica. Then I went around the room, picturing all the different faces there pleasuring me. When I tweaked one of my nipples, it was someone else's hand touching me. When I rubbed tight circles over my clit, I imagined it was one of the Dom's tongues. Soon, the moans were genuine as I let myself fall further into sexual oblivion, drowning out everyone around me, filling my head with fantasy.
“Now get on your hands and knees and finger yourself,” the vulgar man said, drawing me from my thoughts only long enough for me to switch positions.
Shamelessly, I turned my ass to the audience, resting my head on the carpet and spreading my legs while I reached a hand around to tease my hole. My index finger slipped inside with ease thanks to the wetness that had amassed from earlier pleasure. I groaned as my inner channel squeezed around it, massaging the intruder. For several minutes, I fingered myself, varying the strokes. It wasn't enough stimulation though, and soon I was pulling the finger out to rub across my clit, bringing the waves of my orgasm to the surface.
“Requesting permission to come, Sir,” I said.
“Permission denied,” Damien replied.
My hand withdrew from my cunt, allowing my pleasure to subside while I changed positions. I figured it was as good a time as any to transition. Again and again, I brought myself close to orgasm, stopping at Damien's command.
After a while, Damien left the room, returning with a thick red dildo and a bottle of lube, which he handed to me. My cheeks grew warm as I looked at the dildo. The thing was thicker than his cock, and longer too. There was no question about what he wanted me to do with it.
I returned to my original crouching position, scanning the guests for their reaction. Most of them looked on intently, awaiting my next move. Some of the Dommes and submissives were less interested though, chatting among themselves.
The vulgar man seemed the most interested, the one who had spanked me while Danica held my hair. He was slightly younger than Damien, with equally dark features, but not half as handsome. On his arm was a young woman, probably his submissive, who seemed almost frightened of him. She had avoided making eye contact with anyone the entire time they had been at the party and barely spoke a peep. Neither of them had been at the munch.
“Suck on it first,” he instructed, staring at me as if he was picturing the dildo as his cock instead of just a toy.
I gazed right back at him as I brought it up to my mouth, swirling my tongue around the tip. Then I licked up the side of it and moaned, making wet noises as I sucked it into my mouth. My strokes were purposely slow, and every time I reached the tip, I glanced at the vulgar man to make sure he was still watching. He was, fucking me with his eyes. To be honest, it was refreshing to seduce someone else, though I knew I should feel guilty. But if Damien wasn't upset about it, then I didn't see the harm.
Getting even more into it, I slid my free hand between my legs and began rubbing again, gyrating my hips in an unnecessarily exaggerated manner, as if it would help to get me off faster. Occasionally, I would shake out my hair to get it away from my face, making an all out sexual spectacle of myself.
“Turn the vibrator on and start playing with yourself with it,” Danica said, taking control of the session.
I did as I was told, turning the black knob on the bottom of it until it vibrated rather loudly. Then I pressed the bulbous tip against my clit and groaned as the vibration almost immediately threatened to plummet me over the edge. This might be a bit difficult.
For the sake of caution, I decided not to focus on the sensitive little bundle of nerves that was begging for stimulation. Instead, I went straight for the show stopper, laying down on the floor and spreading my legs before I pressed the tip of the dildo between my pussy lips and slowly guided it inside. At first, I didn't think it would fit, so I had to pull back out and use the lube. Not very sexy.
The feeling of the vibrator tunneling into me brought a fullness with it that I hadn't felt in a long time, and I found myself enjoying it far more than I should have. I laid back, pumping the thing in and out of me as I groaned, pretending it was a huge dick attached to a powerful Dom. He was having his way with me, pounding my cunt into submission with a cock the likes of which I had never felt before. Soon, it wasn't only my hand that was moving, but also my hips, grinding on the toy as I pushed it up into me. I felt absolutely shameless, splaying my legs, and rubbing my clit with my free hand, and just enjoying the pleasures of my body. Occasionally, I'd change positions, more for my own pleasure than that of my onlookers. The toy explored me from all angles, pulsing in and out when I was on my hands and knees, struggling against my tight tunnel when I laid on my side and pressed my legs together. It all felt exquisite.
Finally, Damien told me I could come, and when he did, I was more than ready. I saw stars as my body fell over the edge, waves of pleasure crashing down and drowning me. It was so intense I could barely breathe—the best orgasm I'd had in a very long time.
When the contractions finally subsided, I laid there breathless, feeling lost and ashamed for what I had done—for my enjoyment of being watched in such a state. Was that why my orgasm had been so intense? Or was it because I was focused on someone else besides Damien? I was so confused.
For the remainder of the afternoon, I served and was parked. As the guests began to depart, they complimented my performance. The vulgar man even said that Damien was a lucky guy. I wished I would have caught his name, but I was too afraid to ask.
Even Danica gave me kudos for doing a good job. She also whispered to me that it would get easier with time. I hoped she was right. For some reason, I hated her a lot less. Maybe it was because she had helped me in a way.
When everyone was gone, Damien made me clean up the living room and kitchen. For as large of a crowd as it had been, they left the place relatively tidy, which I was thankful for, considering that my feet were absolutely killing me. I was never happier when Damien finally allowed me to take those bloody high heels off and get dressed.
By the time everything was done, and I was dressed, I was absolutely exhausted. I dragged myself into the living room and planted myself beside Damien, who was immersed in a book. It looked as if the party had never even happened, and for a moment I wondered if I had dreamed it. Then I saw the red dildo on the coffee table and remembered the soreness between my legs. It had definitely happened. It had happened, and I think I might have enjoyed it.
“I'm tired,” I groaned.
“You should go home and get some rest then,” he replied plainly.
Go home? That was it? No thanks for being such a good sport about everything? No appreciation for not flaking when he sprang the masturbation thing on me?
“Did I do alright?” I asked, trying to get some reaction out of him, some praise.
He glanced at me. “I'm not punishing you, am I?”
“No.” We sat in silence for a few minutes before I spoke again, “I wasn't expecting to have to masturbate in front of all of those people.”
“You did a really good job. I think everyone enjoyed your performance.”
“Warn me next time, will you? When you said I would have to demonstrate obedience, that wasn't what I had in mind.”
“What did you have in mind?” Damien gave me a quizzical look.
“I thought you were just going to make me demonstrate my submissive positions.”
“Well, that wasn't the case, obviously.”
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah. I'm just tired is all. Entertaining always wears me out.”
But you didn't do anything. You just sat there and made me serve everybody and let everyone do inappropriate things to me. That last part stung. I still felt like I had been shared. Other people had their hands on me, and what was worse was I actually liked it. Was this what our relationship was going to be like? Would it be okay for everyone else to touch me as long as Damien was around to supervise? Maybe I should invite Colton to one of these parties. That thought made me feel even guiltier, but I couldn't suppress it. What was the difference, really? His friends. My friends. If he was going to allow other people to touch me, then shouldn't I have a say in who it was too.
I could feel myself breaking down inside. The emotional walls were crumbling, and it was only a matter of time before the tears followed. Why was I so upset? I didn't know. Perhaps the party had been too much stimulation, more than I was actually prepared for despite all the practicing and psyching myself out.
“I think I'm going to head on home,” I told Damien, standing to take my leave.
He nodded and walked me to the door, opening it as if he was letting out his final guest. I turned to him, fighting back tears, hoping to catch some semblance of remorse, though it was a stupid thing to wish for. To my surprise, he embraced me, pulling me close, closer than I could ever remember him holding me before. It was desperately close, crushingly close, comfortingly close.
“Thank you, for everything you've done today,” he whispered into my hair. “It really meant a lot to me. And I'm so proud of you. Proud of the way you acted. Proud that you belong to me.”
When he finally pulled away, I could see the sincerity in his eyes. And suddenly, everything was okay again.