We’ve been invited this time, but our invitations still have fake names on them. Bruce said that official membership takes a few months to approve, and he didn’t want to wait that long to see Tami again. I also have no intention of applying under my real name. On the small chance I make it as a writer, I don’t want this to come back and bite me on my freshly-spanked ass.

There’s a new guard at the door, but he lets us through with less hesitation than the last one. We look more the part this time. I’ve spent an obscene amount—by my standards—on this dress, so it’s only the lack of expensive jewelry that betrays my not being one of the elite. Usually, my lack of confidence makes it obvious that I’m not rich and successful, but the beauty of this party is that the women are supposed to be reserved and timid.

Bruce explained the main rules. Women are not to initiate conversation. We cannot make eye contact with a man unless told. If men ask us to jump, we ask ‘how high.’ It sounded horrible until Bruce told us the code terms to use. If we’re not interested in the man at all, we should just say ‘I already belong to another man,’ even if that’s not true. If things get uncomfortable, then we can say ‘orange’ to slow it down, or ‘red’ to bring it to an immediate stop.

The second we’re inside the large penthouse apartment, Tami makes a beeline for Bruce and stands next to him until he deigns to notice her. I do the same, just to avoid standing by myself. Men eye me up instantly, but he’s not here. I didn’t get a great look at him that night, but I remember the mask and his body shape. There’s no one who even vaguely resembles him here.

“Go and get me a glass of wine,” Bruce says to Tami. Tami nods and heads towards the kitchen. I start to follow her but Bruce commands me to stay put. “You’re looking for someone,” he says. “Are you expecting to see a familiar face?”

“No,” I reply. “A familiar mask, maybe.”

Bruce smiles quickly but then wipes it from his face as if he’s just remembered he’s supposed to remain strict with me.

“People will keep appearing over the next few hours,” Bruce says. “Just because he’s not here yet, doesn’t mean he won’t show up. You’re not interested in any of the other men?”

“I… I will do as I’m told,” I reply. It sounds a bit pathetic, but at least I can’t be accused of not getting into the spirit of things.

“You were almost convincing. Tell you what. You can pretend to be with me until your man shows up. We won’t do anything—I’m focused on Tami—but I’ll order you around occasionally. That way, no one else will try to claim you.”

“Thank you, Sir,” I add, flashing the tiniest of smiles.

Tami comes back and hands Bruce his drink.

“Stay there,” Bruce commands, as he walks off and talks to some friends.

“I asked him to look after you,” Tami says. “That way you can take your time to get into the swing of things.”

“Thanks.”

It’s not time I need. It’s him.

Bruce is right. There is a constant stream of new people joining the party, and quite a few who leave early to continue their night elsewhere.

Whenever a man walks into the room, I look over to see who it is. A couple of men are wearing blue masks that are similar to his, but they aren’t him. He’s tall, muscular, and serious. I only caught a glimpse of him in a poorly-lit room, but I’d recognize him anywhere. I’m sure of it.

This isn’t healthy. I’ve pinned all my hopes on a man I don’t know. A man I bumped into at a party. A man who fingered me while I watched two other people get it on. Even if he does show up, what then? Maybe be takes me under this wing and gets me off again. Best case scenario, he spends the evening treating me as his sub, bossing me around, and then taking me home to fuck me. That’s one night. I can’t keep going to sex parties on the off chance he’s willing to spend the night toying with me.

I need a normal man. A man like Parker. I’m sure he’d play rough if I asked him to. He has a stern look about him that’s just made for roleplaying as a dominant professor punishing his naughty student. But he wouldn’t look twice at someone like me. He pays me to look after his child; dating me wouldn’t have crossed his mind. He’ll end up with some sexy lawyer—one of those lawyers who are hot enough to go on television and discuss important cases that are in the public eye.

I don’t know what I want anymore. I had a five-minute thrill one night, and now I’m into being a submissive. This reminds me of my first kiss. We were at a party and out of the blue, Tom kissed me. I barely knew what was happening and it only lasted a few seconds, but after that, I became obsessed with Tom. When he started hanging out with another girl at school, I thought my life was over. I’m too old for schoolgirl crushes now, or so I thought.

My encounter at the last party was quite a few levels up from what happened with Tom, but I still shouldn’t have such intense feelings after a short fumble in the dark. Other than him ordering me around, we barely spoke.

Do I even want to be here? There’s one way to find out. I walk away from Bruce and Tami and stand by myself in the corner. That would normally make me feel paranoid and silly, but it fits the theme of the party. I look down at the floor waiting for a man to approach. It doesn’t take long.

“Well aren’t you a pretty little thing?”

I’m not allowed to look up at him, but I can see enough to know he must be at least forty and doesn’t keep in shape. He’s not fat, but soft would be a good description. He’s not at all my type; this is a good test of whether I really want to be a sub or not.

He runs his fingers through my hair, and then softly down my arm. He’s gentle, but it still creeps me out.

“You’re nervous,” he says, as I shiver slightly under his touch. It’s not nerves.

I still don’t speak. This is one time I’m thankful to be playing the sub.

His hand trails down my arm. When he reaches my hand, he moves around to my lower back and then down to my ass. I close my eyes and tense in anticipation. When he squeezes my left butt cheek, I know that I’m not meant to be here. This isn’t me.

“Sorry,” I mutter. “I have to use the bathroom.”

I’m probably supposed to ask permission, but I don’t wait around to find out. I dash into the bathroom and throw cold water on my face, getting my mask wet in the process.

“Fuck,” I say quietly to myself in the mirror. “Why did you come here, Carly?”

I hear the door handle move as someone tries to get in the bathroom. I’m expecting to hear the noise of someone pushing against a locked door, but instead, it swings open because I forgot to lock it.

It’s okay, I’m done anyway. I head to the door as a man walks in.

It’s him.

I don’t even need to see the mask. His body shape, his smell, there’s no doubt in my mind.

He quickly closes the door and locks it, trapping me in here with him.

“You’re back,” he remarks, his voice deep and stern.

I remember to look down at the floor. Last time we met, I didn’t have a clue how to act. Now I know what I’m supposed to do, and I’m not about to fuck it up. I’ve been dreaming about this for weeks. I won’t be running away this time.

He walks around me, eying me up like a piece of meat. I love it.

“Have you been claimed?” he asks.

“No, sir,” I reply.

“Good. You’re mine for tonight. Do you understand?”

I nod, resisting the urge to elaborate. I want to tell him to take me again like he did last time, but it’s not for me to decide. He will do with me as he wants.

The man stands behind me and places his hands on my shoulders, running them down my arms as he presses his body against mine. I shiver again, but this time it’s from the anticipation of what else is to come.

“I remember how you taste,” he whispers in my ear. “When I close my eyes, I can still smell your pussy.”

I’m not surprised he can smell my pussy. I’m dripping wet already and can feel my panties clinging to my pussy lips. I’ve not just been waiting for this all night—I’ve been waiting for it ever since he touched me at the last party. That’s a lot of built up tension and excitement.

His hands reach around and grab my breasts, giving them a firm squeeze as he nuzzles his lips into my neck.

“I want to taste you again, but I’m not going to do the work.”

“I don’t understand,” I reply meekly.

“You’re going to slide your fingers into your tight wet pussy and then give me a taste.”

I try to take a deep breath, but it ends up as more of a panicked gasp. The bathroom isn’t dark like our last encounter. He’ll be able to see me touch myself in the mirror. I’ve never let anyone watch me do that.

“Are you disobeying my order?” he growls.

“No, sir,” I reply.

I slowly hitch up my dress until most of it is around my waist and then reach between my legs. I peel my panties off my slit and tuck them to one side. My fingers part the folds and slide inside without any effort.

“Get them nice and deep,” he commands.

I push my fingers in until the palm of my hand presses against my clit, and then slowly slide them out. I’m dripping, and a thin trail of my wetness is visible between two of my fingers.

He grabs my wrist and pulls it towards my mouth where he wraps his lips around my fingers and sucks hard.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs. His voice isn’t as deep as usual, and for a split second I think it sounds familiar.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, master?”

“You ran away last time. I’m not happy about that.”

“It won’t happen again.”

“It better not. You need to make it up to me.”

I hear him open his belt, and then drop his pants to the floor. My stomach tightens with nerves and anticipation. His cock is pressing against my ass. It’s not hard yet, but I can already tell it’s huge and likely to hurt regardless of how wet I am.

“Can you feel that?” he asks.

I nod and move my ass against his cock gently.

“Do you want me to slide this cock in your tight little snatch?”

“Yes, sir,” I reply eagerly, not acting in the slightest.

“Tell me what you want.”

I’ve always been awful at dirty talk, but this isn’t Carly Wicks in a stranger’s bathroom. It’s Laura, and Laura is a dirty slut who loves submitting to dominant guys.

“I want your massive cock to fuck my wet pussy,” I reply. “I want you to pound me hard until I come all over your shaft.”

He presses into me, and I feel his cock get a little firmer. His hand pulls my hair gently, bringing my head back towards him.

“You’re greedy,” he says softly. “You don’t get my cock. Not yet. You haven’t earned it.”

“I’ll go get you a drink, and I’ll wait on you all night.”

“I don’t want a drink. I want you to drop to your knees and blow me.”

There’s no hesitation this time. I fall to the floor so quickly that I hurt my knees on the ceramic tiles. He pulls his huge member out from his boxer briefs and leaves it hanging there while I stare at it open-eyed. He’s still soft, and yet it’s already intimidatingly big. I’m relieved it’s only going in my mouth.

I slowly reach out a hand and take hold of it, lifting the tip to my lips and extending my tongue to gently flick at the head. His cock somehow gets even bigger as I stroke it and he stiffens in my hand.

“Suck it,” he commands.

I do as he says. I open my mouth wide and take his cock in as deep as I can manage and clamp my lips around it. I suck hard until his member leaves my mouth with a loud pop. I quickly do it again, keeping his shaft in my mouth this time, and forcing my lips as close to the base as they will go. I breathe deeply through my nose while trying to control my gag reflex as his cock stiffens in my mouth.

Feeling him harden is thrilling, and my spare hand wanders down between my legs without me even realizing. I’m about to touch myself when I remember I haven’t been given permission. This is about pleasing my master, not myself.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you,” he growls, as I suck as hard as I can on his dick.

He’s hard now, but that’s not enough. I need to feel his excitement explode in my mouth.

“Deeper,” he commands, grabbing hold of the back of my head, and pushing his cock deep into my mouth. I take deep breaths through my nose and control my gag reflex as he starts fucking my mouth. I’m his little slut. His toy. I’m his to do with as he pleases.

Shouldn’t this be demeaning? Shouldn’t I feel like shit? Why can I feel my own excitement building in my panties when I should be running miles away from this man?

“I’m going to come,” he moans, holding my hair tighter. “You’re going to swallow every last drop.”

I make sure my lips are clasped tightly around his thick meat as he holds my head firmly between his strong hands and ejects his ecstasy into my mouth.

No man has ever done that to me before, and the amount of ‘stuff’ takes me by surprise. I swallow instantly, but some seeps out of my mouth and dribbles down my chin. I don’t have time to worry about getting it on my expensive dress because he’s far from finished. I lose count of the number of eruptions in my mouth, but finally, he starts to soften and pulls out.

“Good girl,” he says, stuffing his cock back in his boxers. “But it looks like you spilled some.” He points to the top of my chest where some of his warm white essence is trickling down between my breasts. “I told you to swallow every drop.”

“Yes, sir,” I reply, scooping the cum up from my chest and chin, and sliding it into my mouth. “Thank you,” I say sweetly.

He briefly drops the dominant man act to pull me to my feet, an act I certainly couldn’t accomplish in these shoes. We stare at each other. I feel like a naïve schoolgirl for even thinking this, but it’s like I know him. It’s pathetic. I sucked him off and now I’m imagining a deep, spiritual connection.

“You did well,” he says, in his deep ‘master’ voice. “I’ve decided I’m going to reward you.”

“You already have,” I reply, with a slow lick of my lips. We both smile. I’m proud of that one. For a novice, I reckon I’m doing a decent job.

He turns me around and pushes me towards the bathroom sink. I watch in the mirror as his hand explores my chest and then heads down between my legs. The ache down there is so intense it’s almost painful. This must be what men mean when they say they have ‘blue balls.’

“You liked watching last time,” he whispers in my ear. “This time you can watch yourself come.”

I want to watch, but the second his fingers move between my folds, I close my eyes and arch my head up.

“No,” he says sternly. “You’re going to keep your eyes open and watch as I make you come all over my fingers.”

I do as I’m told and my are eyes drawn to his hand just as two thick fingers slide inside my pussy. My legs turn to jelly and I can barely stand. I use the sink for support, but my arms aren’t much stronger than my legs. His fingers move furiously inside my dripping wet sex, the noise of my wetness echoing around the small tiled bathroom. I don’t care what people hear. I’m beyond caring about anything other than the orgasm that is building in my core.

“Did sucking my cock turn you on?”

I nod in reply. “I love pleasing you, master.”

The second his thumb touches my clit, I know I’m done. I groan deeply and loudly, probably sounding like a woman giving birth, as I come hard against his hand. He keeps rubbing my clit until I’m spent. I bend over the sink, and he leans over me, placing his hand on top of mine as he kisses my neck.

Then I see it.

Right there on top of his hand, near the thumb and going down to the wrist. A burn mark. A burn mark identical to the one Parker got the other day while cooking breakfast.

It’s him.