Tonight I tell Richard no stories,
I tell him not one little lie,
I never blow a kiss on the wind,
and I never say goodbye.
Tonight I'll wear no stringy thingies.
Tonight I'll forego the bra.
Tonight I am a hot mess in high heels,
and a dress that shows every flaw.
Tonight my bits and my pieces
will be displayed for all to see.
Tonight I will say "Fuck you world,
tonight I'll only be me."
I'm hot, I'm wet and I am destined to have a complete meltdown if I don't diddle myself. So, in anticipation of tonight's follies, I damn well diddly do.
Having diddled myself close to delirium, I almost ask the cabbie to pull over somewhere so I can suck his cock and ride him like wildfire. But with great effort I talk myself out of it; I want to start tonight out tight.
As tempted as I am to start my evening in the backseat of that cab, I deny my desire for an orgasm. An orgasm so extreme it would leave me speaking in tongues. So tonight when I arrive I will be loaded for bear, and I'm bringing out the big guns.
The Price Of Admission
I knock on the devil's door and hear the bolt slide open. Steven cracks the door slightly and asks for tonight's password.
"Stigmata," I reply.
"Wonderful to see you, Missus," Steven tells me, "you look beautiful tonight, please join us."
I enter the anteroom that is Steven's domain, but before he can take my coat and instruct me to place my well-heeled foot on the antique calling card table by the door, I grab his lapels with both hands and bring his face close to mine.
My actions take the butler by surprise, and before he can pull back, my mouth is softly/firmly/squarely on his. My grip remains resolute as my tongue teases his lips to part, and they do with not a hint of resistance.
My brashness elicits the response that I had hoped for. I raise my right foot and place it on the sturdy table — this is de rigueur and I love it. Steven parts the front of my black mink coat, clutching and squeezing my breasts through the thin fabric of my India gauze dress. I guide one of his hands to my slit and order him to be painfully rough, and he obeys.
This is not our traditional dance, I've suspended all rules and thrown protocol out that damnable door. Tonight I will be the aggressor, and will choose my playthings carefully for maximum satisfaction.
Steven presses his crotch against my left thigh and looks at me with quizzical appetite.
"No undergarments tonight, Missus?"
I murmur, "Tonight there is no time to waste on frivolous things." Steven looks pleasantly confounded, and presses his prick even harder against me as all the previous years of formality limp away.
I place one arm around his neck like a snake, and my other arm encircles his waist to hold him in tight. It doesn't take long before his massaging and stroking brings me my first long awaited climax of the evening, the orgasm I'd been denying myself. It doesn't end with me speaking in tongues, but I do draw blood from biting my lip. Oh, that was insanely good.
Suddenly he pulls away. There is no need for explanation, I know why and it makes me feel powerful. He kisses my breasts tenderly, moves his hand from my cunt, raises it and together we lick clean its coating of sheen.
"Tonight, you and I will be the floor show," I tell Steven. There is no hint of argument as he takes my coat with an amused smile and slight nod.
"You're more than ready now Missus, have a wonderful evening."
I stride toward the deep burgundy curtain. "Missus," Steven calls out before I flow into my fantasies, "tonight we suspend all rules… ALL rules." I look back over my shoulder, wink, smile and blow him a kiss that settles over him like a veil.
I had planned on telling him that I wanted to bypass the grand hall and be granted access to the upper five floors. I was ready to revisit the extreme. But after seeing this man again, his sensual lips, bedroom eyes and the slight stubble of a beard, I had a change of heart. Tonight I want whisker burn, tonight that prick is mine.
The Warm-Up Act
Buxom Blonde rushes over and throws her arms around me, kissing me on the cheek and mouth. It's wonderful to see her and I return her kisses aggressively.
She admires my dress and elegant heels, lifting my locket on a long chain from between my breasts. "Oh honey, this is absolutely gorgeous, wherever did you get it?"
"I picked it up in Portugal," I reply. "And before you ask, yes I'll pick out something pretty for you on my next trip there."
Buxom tells Emily, one of the house ladies-in-waiting, to fetch me a soft robe, one with lace and satin ribbons. "I've been thinking about you," says my regular playmate, "I haven't been able to get you out of my head."
She slides my dress up to my waist and inspects the butler’s handiwork. "Oh honey, look at you! You went all naked tonight!” I laugh and give her a tight hug, she’s a cute little thing from somewhere in the south that hasn’t yet homogenized, and her drawl is authentic. "Steven did a fine job on you. All I ever get is a quick jab." I have to laugh at that, the visual is too funny.
Emily returns with a robe. She helps me shimmy out of my dress which she lays across her arm, and clothes me in silk. She is not allowed to look me in the eye, it is forbidden. But I notice her sideways glances at my tits and pussy and see the tell-tale blush of lust in her cheeks. Fuck, that makes me hot. Just wait little girl, you’ll be nose deep in that pussy before you ever realize it.
The Buxom Blonde leads me by the hand to an oyster colored sofa that is very deep, with many matching pillows. We recline and kiss, our mouths hard against each other. We spread our legs, quickly finding each other’s clit and hole. One finger, two fingers, three fingers, four… and thumb on the button.
A bald man in a tux kneels in front of us, licks his index fingers and simultaneously massages our assholes. "May I?" he asks. Yes and yes.
He slowly enters us and encounters insignificant resistance. He proceeds to a deeper and faster pace. He knows that we are both squirters, that is why he has assumed this position with the forays into each ass to help speed things along. He kneels with his tongue out and his eyes closed. I love his submission.
Buxom and I break away from our kiss to watch Evangeline, a gorgeous mocha colored house servant, riding a cock doggy style while a second man fucks her in the ass and slaps her cheeks brutally hard, harder than I could ever tolerate.
I cannot wait until I have completed my anal training, I am not quite ready to be DP’d, but I’m diligently working on it. After all, I leave for Luxembourg in less than two weeks.
Four pricks surround Evangeline’s face, she sucks them hard in the round robin style. She is enjoying this immensely, her eyes are beginning to roll towards the back of her head, spit dripping from her lips, her vocalizations are transitioning to screams. Bald man is about to get his wish, I hope he brought an extra tux.
Buxom's cum begins. You can tell when a woman is ready to squirt. The sound she makes, the look in her eye, the way she shifts her body and raises her ass in the air, causing her pussy muscles to tighten in that particular way.
Bald man knows these signs, and he is ready to feel the rain on his face. And he does, multiple times.
Now the focus is on me, and when I cum, I cum hard. This is what these get-togethers are about. I have been so caught up in my pleasure I never noticed that a nice sized group has gathered to watch, many with champagne and cocktail glasses in hand.
Like my darling Buxom, I am drained and spent. The spectators applaud politely and express their appreciation with "kudos," "nicely done," and the ever popular "bravo."
Thank you, thank you very much! We'll be back after a short break. Now, to keep you entertained while you wait, here is a fantastic ventriloquist act straight from Rancho Cucamonga. Ladies and gentlemen, please give a big round of applause to Davey and his Woody!
My darling Buxom is ready for round two, but I need to shake myself loose and shake things up.
Please understand that I love my Buxom. She’s an ardent people-pleaser and a great lay, but I know every nook of her crannies and the excitement of spontaneity is gone. I need some strange. "Baby," I tell her in a disappointed voice, "I have another rendezvous, I’m so sorry." And I actually do, I just don’t know who he/she/they are yet, and I want to begin prospect selection.
I give her a lingering kiss and a quick squeeze on her pussy, promising to find her later in the evening.
To be helpful I point to a new, very well-hung participant as a consolation prize, and her eyes light up. "Honey, you have a wonderful time, and I’ll go get a piece of the new boy. Now remember, there is no such thing as too much lube. Fuck you later!" You just gotta love her.
Before I subtly begin the selection process, I spend some time in the Ladies Lounge. It’s a wonderful place, with a masseuse, beautician, steam room/sauna, whirlpool, showers, every hygiene and beauty product under the sun, and several servants.
Once in a while, we all want to take a break from the hustling, bustling crowd, and so it is here. Sometimes you just feel like a little peace and quiet away from the sounds of loud climaxing, the "I’m cumming" announcers, orgasm torture and paddling. Kink can be quite noisy.
So every now and then it's nice to be in a peaceful, classic daisy-chain with a soundtrack of sweet dreamy moans and sighs and Erik Satie.
Choosing products in their original packaging from well stocked aisles, I place them in the wicker basket that the servant behind me holds with her head bowed.
The Buxom Blonde always chides me about not following protocol with my terminology. I personally don’t like to use the term "slave," I prefer to say "servant." After all, they are well compensated for their service; and I’m not completely morally bankrupt yet.
Mascara, eyeliner, eye shadow, face powder and rouge, lip gloss, Channel N°5, antiperspirant, a hairbrush, flat iron, new thigh high stockings and Summer's Eve, which I'll use before I take a quick whore' s bath. I like to be fresh before every encounter. The only thing secondhand at these parties is sloppy seconds, which I happen to enjoy.
After cleaning up, I re-apply my makeup and run the flat iron through my hair. I hate bed-head. "Put this with my dress," I brusquely tell the servant, giving her my basket before exiting the Lounge.
I avoid contact with Buxom, I don’t want to hurt her feelings if she sees me solo. But, glimpsing her out of the corner of my eye, I am relieved to see that she is tied up by her ankles and wrists in the shape of an X, being caned and felt up by seven or eight partygoers. She’s an awe-inspiring renaissance woman in the game of Fuck.
I go to the bar and the bartender, Scott, who knows my tastes, pours a glass of claret. He is not a servant per se, but he is there for the taking. I've had him, I like him and I'm certain that I will do him again.
Glass in hand I survey the room. "What do you think, Scott? I'm looking for something to do that's not too vanilla."
"Well, by the piano is a couple that likes to be pin-cushioned while they watch each other. They always need someone to give them orders."
"Oh Scott," I laugh, "you know I'm a doer not a talker."
"Too true, Missus. Well, over by the stairs is a group that came in together. They're into humiliation."
"I don't like humiliation Scott, find me something with a bit of humanity."
"You might like those two," he tells me. I look to where he is pointing and see a beautiful black man and a Goddess who appears to be Latin or Mediterranean. "They like to mix it up and are open to suggestions. I think they'll give you what you're looking for."
"Thank you Scott," I tell him with appreciation, "I believe I'll take your suggestion."
"My pleasure Missus, have a wonderful time."
I begin my walk of shamelessness.