Ann

 

 

 

He told me to doll myself up, to look good for him and his "friend.” I have no idea what to expect, but I know I don't want to disappoint him, so I made sure to go lingerie shopping a few days ago, buying two new bra and panty sets each with an adorned garter belt and matching stockings. Both sets have elaborate lace and feature a handmade design, and they are far more expensive and luxurious than anything I've ever worn before. I couldn't decide on a color, so I bought one in white and one in black.

The decision of which one  to wear tonight wasn't made until last minute. I didn't want to ask Jared for his opinion because I wanted it to be a surprise, but I tried to imagine which one he'd prefer - and decided to go with the white set. White implies innocence and purity, a stark contrast to what was about to happen tonight. I thought that he'd be able to enjoy the play with contradictions, to share his innocent possession with another man under his guidance.

I can't deny the thought excites me just as much as it scares me. It's baffling to realize how much I want to please him, to be a good girl for him, even if it means leaving my own comfort zone.

I'm standing in front of the full-body mirror in my bedroom, giving myself a last once-over before I present myself to him. I've taken the time to curl my hair and pinned it up, leaving a few curly strands framing my face and draping down over my shoulders. He prefers it when I wear my hair down, but I think it looks better this way. Besides, he will mess it up within a few minutes anyway. My make-up is stronger today, my eyes framed with thick black lashes and black eyeliner that has never been more precise, and my lips are painted a deep red color. If my hair was a few shades darker, I would almost look like Snow White.

I take a deep breath, balancing on my new heels as I approach the door on shaky legs.

Is this something I've fantasized about? Maybe? I'm pretty sure that the thought of being with more than one man at once has crossed the minds of many women before, some even craving it until they're finally able to make that wish come true.

It's never been a major desire for me, but one thing is for certain: I wouldn't do it with anyone but him.

I open the door of my bedroom, knowing that I don't have to fear what's about to happen, because he will be there. I trust Jared, and I know he would never do anything to hurt me, unless I asked him to. I trust his judgment and his guidance, and there's a not-so-quiet part of me that can't wait to see the look on his face when he first sees me. When I’m coming down the stairs, when he sees me obediently going down on my knees in front of him, when he sees me following his commands with another person present to witness it.

I still don't know who that other person is going to be, but I trust Jared. He told me it was a friend who has done this sort of thing with him before, and that was all I needed to know for now.

He's by himself when I come down the stairs to the living room. He’s sitting on the large sofa in the living area, surrounded by candlelight and a bottle of champagne waiting on the table. I notice there are only two glasses next to it. He's wearing a black suit and a black tie, looking extra dapper tonight with his dark hair gelled to the side. He had his hair cut a few days ago, and the undercut at the side of his face is freshly shaven. My heart flutters when he lays his eyes on me, the hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth as he watches me coming down the stairs.

"Perfect."

His praise means everything to me, and the look on his face tells me that it is sincere. I reciprocate it with a sassy smile. I close in on him, seductively swinging my hips because I know I look beautiful.

"So can I consider this a success?"

My question makes him laugh, and he gives me an appreciative nod. "Yes, Button. You did well. You look fantastic."

He gets up from his seat and walks up to me, placing his hands at the side of my body. He traces them slowly down, until he reaches my hips, where he hooks his fingers under the garter belt to pull me in for a kiss. His lips meet mine in a gentle welcome, patient and modest, but so sensual. I moan softly, wanting to lift my arms and wrap them around him, but I don't. Often enough, he has put me back into place, grabbing my wrists and moving my hands back to where he thought they belonged, far away from his magnificent body. I don't know why he's so weird about letting me touch him, but I couldn't take the denial right now, so I don't even try.

Our kiss grows in intensity, passionate heat taking over. He grabs my ass with savage force, pushing my pelvis against his, and I can feel his hardness growing.

Maybe there's no one else coming tonight? What if he just wanted me to believe that we'd get another man into our midst just to see how I would react, if I would be willing to go along with it?

I disregard that suspicion when I hear the familiar sound of the elevator behind us. Jared ends our kiss and smiles at me. A subtle ding sound announces someone’s arrival seconds before the doors open.

"Are you ready?" he asks, his eyes locked on mine.

"Yes, Sir."

I'm nodding, but my words lack the conviction I was hoping to convey. I don't think I could ever be truly ready for something like this, but I sure as hell am willing to try. For him.

I stay on the couch and don’t follow him, unsure what to do as he strides confidently toward the elevator. The doors open and a young man about my age enters. I was right to assume that he can be trusted when it comes to picking the right guy to join us. The young man whose hand he's shaking right now is without a doubt handsome. He’s very tall, though shorter than Jared, and has lighter-colored hair styled in a buzzcut. He's wearing a navy blue suit, and he’s dashingly handsome. The way the material hugs his broad shoulders and arms suggests that he's pretty buff, as well.

I want to own the moment and be the confident person I pride myself in being, but this situation is too intimidating, even for me. When the men turn around to face me, I turn into a statue, my eyes helplessly darting from one to the other as Jared introduces me with a wide, gallant gesture.

"This is Button," he simply says, possessively resting his hand on my shoulder. "Button, this is T."

The guy stops in front of me, smiling and nodding in appreciation.

"Your good taste never fails, Mr. King."

His eyes scan my entire body, in an almost leering way, and I can't decide whether I'm appalled or aroused. He's looking at me as if I was a piece of meat, but some sick part of me actually likes that.

"She's quite something," Jared agrees, putting his arms around me and surprising me by squeezing my tits before the other guy's eyes. Shameful heat burns on my cheeks and I turn my eyes away, expecting the other guy to join in and touch me just like Jared did. But he doesn't. He keeps his distance, just watching while Jared feels me up.

And then he stops, just as suddenly as he started.

"Let's have a drink," Jared says, beckoning the guy to sit on the sofa, but holding me back as I'm about follow. "Not you, Button. You stay."

I remain where I am, confused, while the men take their seats on the couch. The other guy is still staring, barely taking his eyes off of me for even a second. Jared notices it, too, and he comments with a proud smile.

"Open the bottle for us."

I look at him, my eyes darting between the champagne and Jared, puzzled. He usually opens the champagne; I've never done it before.

"Now, Button. We won't wait forever."

Jared points at the bottle impatiently. I follow his motion and pick up the bottle. Their eyes weigh on me, adding pressure to an already difficult situation, as I try to handle the cork on the bottle. I shriek in surprise when it shoots out unexpectedly, flying across the room and landing behind the sofa, the bubbly liquid foaming up and spilling all over the floor.

The men chuckle as I try to save it by hurrying to bring the bottle to the glasses, filling them a little too quickly and failing in my effort, the bubbly liquid spilling over the rims of the glasses. Damn it. Did he shake the bottle beforehand?

"Poor thing," the other guy, T, comments.

Jared throws him a look that's hard to read. "She tries."

I'm shaking when I hand them the glasses, but I feel even worse once I'm done serving them because I don't know what to do. I stand before them in my barely-there outfit, awkwardly crossing my arms in front of me while they clink glasses and enjoy their champagne.

"Do you want some, too, Button?" Jared asks.

I look at him, nodding. "Yes. Please, Sir."

"Earn it," he says. "Turn around and lean forward; show us that beautiful ass of yours."

Shame mixes with my arousal as I obey his command, trying to look my best while I balance on my heels, slightly leaning forward and cupping my ass with my hands, because I know it looks better that way. I hear groans of approval behind my back, and my heart skips a beat.

"Good girl. Now turn back to face us."

I straighten up and turn around to them, noticing that the other guy is stroking his crotch as he’s watching me. Jared is nonchalantly sitting a few inches away from him, holding his glass in one hand while the other rests on the back of the sofa. His face is frozen in a serious expression, his eyes narrowed, as if he's concentrating very hard.

"Show us your beautiful tits."

I look at him quizzically.

"Lose the bra, Button."

"Yes, Sir."

I open the clasp of my bra at my back and slowly expose my breasts to them. Jared's face doesn't move an inch, while the other guy meets my obedient motion with an approving gasp.

"Fuck," I hear him breathe, but Jared throws him a warning look. Apparently, there are rules for T to follow, as well.

"Very good girl," he praises. "Now, down on your knees and crawl over here."

I lower myself down on the hardwood floor, ignoring the rush of humiliating heat running through my body as I slowly approach the men crouched on all fours. I'm instinctively drawn to Jared, even though he never told me to come to him. Sitting on my heels in front of him, he greets me by cupping my breasts and pinching my nipples, pulling me closer to give me a taste of the sweet champagne that he kept for me in his mouth. Our lips lock for a kiss and I drink in the golden liquid as his hands explore my body, claiming me, feeling me up as if he was touching me for the first time.

I let out a surprised gasp when he grabs my ass and lifts me up on his lap. I can feel his hardened bulge between my legs when I straddle him. The other guy is watching us, touching himself and breathing heavily while he observes our passionate kiss.

Disappointment washes over me when Jared suddenly pushes me away and to the side, so that I’m between him and the other guy. He grabs a fistful of my hair and forces my head down to his crotch while my ass is sticking out toward the other guy.

"Show him what a good cock sucker you are, Button."

I don't think.

I obey.

My trembling hands unbuckle his belt, one that I'm very familiar with, before I free his rock-hard length and take it between my lips. He moans and his grip tightens around the hair falling over my back. I'm painfully aware that my ass is basically sticking in the other guy's face, and I'm expecting to feel his hands on my skin at any moment.

Jared pushes me down on his length until I start choking on him. His hard tip is pressed against the back of my throat, and I begin mewling and fighting for air. I feel a hand on my ass, and I instantly know that it is his. He strokes across the skin, where old bruises from a play session a few days ago are beginning to fade. He releases my head, letting me breathe for a moment, at the same time he moves the fabric of my thong to the side and parts my lips with his skillful fingers.

He glides through my wetness, and for a moment he freezes, shoving my head down on his steel-hard cock with a violent push, his other hand not moving an inch at my dripping core.

"So fucking wet," he breathes, his voice so faint that I can barely hear him through my choking.

"Slut."

The word is hissed with a sharp S, underlined with a tone that suggests anger. But why would he be mad at me? I'm doing everything exactly as he has asked, and usually, he'd be happy to find me aroused like this.

Much to my regret, he withdraws his hand from my core. A sudden and hard slap lands on my ass, causing me to jerk up, my lips still wrapped around him.

"Suck him," he commands.

I retreat and search his eyes for approval, hearing the guy behind me shift in anticipation. Jared's eyes are narrow, his expression fierce and unyielding. I've never seen him this strict and stern. He nods over to the other guy, beckoning me to follow his command.

I avert my eyes from him and get up from the couch, turning around to the other guy, who's already waiting for me. He has freed his cock while I was busy serving Jared, and is stroking his hard length, still leering at me. It's funny that Jared would pick a guy who is similar to him in so many ways.

I go down on my knees, only throwing a quick and coy smile at the guy's face, before lowering my eyes and wrapping my hands firmly around his girth. He groans and leans back on the sofa, fixating on me while I slowly lean forward, ready to comply with Jared's command.

And that's when it happens.

"Stop!"

My heart almost stops at the sheer volume of his voice, and the guy jerks up in reaction to Jared's warning echoing through the living hall. We turn both our heads to him, equally surprised when he waves at T directing him to go away.

"Leave. Now."

My heart sinks.

Have I done something wrong?

My hand is still wrapped around the guy's cock when he gets up, growling with anger and disappointment while he fixes his trousers and straightens his shirt. He strides toward the elevator without so much as another word, not looking at either of us, and I watch him walk away. I feel like an utter failure.

What the hell just happened?