Dark Desires
written by:
lucy

The night is wet and cold on this late October evening and the girl is clearly not dressed for this kind of weather. But her attire isn't the only thing that is wrong about her. She also looks lost and this isn't a good neighborhood for a young woman to be lost. Of course, being lost is always an unpleasant experience, but there are places where it's better to be lost and then there are places where you don't want to be lost. This place clearly belongs into the latter category. Dark buildings and wet tarmac, sparsely illuminated by street lamps that sway in the chilling wind, dancing shadows everywhere. There is a better lit street with a lot of traffic and many people about not far away, but the cul de sac the girl is standing in is deserted, except for the cab that had brought her here. There's a flash of red silk beneath her short black coat when the headlights of the taxi catch her standing on the sidewalk as the driver backs into one of the many dark corners to turn around and head off in search of a new fare.

The girl is standing in front of an old industrial building where until a few years ago huge diesel ship engines have been constructed, assembled and tested before they were disassembled again and loaded onto freight trains, destination Rotterdam or Hamburg or wherever ships have been built in those days, to be put into freighters and cruise ships. As a matter of fact, her own grandfather worked in this factory, she remembered him telling her about the gruelling work in the foundry and the ten miles he had to cycle to work, every day, six days a week, in the heat of summer and on icy roads in the winter, for fourteen long years, until he had been able to afford a little Italian motorcycle.

But she has her own problems now and diesel engines and bicycling are not among them. She is lost. She is also getting cold and she knows well enough that this isn't a good neighborhood for a young, sexily dressed woman without a companion. But the taxi driver insisted that this is the right address, even if there is no club, no restaurant, nothing at all. She pulls the somewhat enigmatic invitation from the pocket of her woolen coat and turns it in her hand. Giessereistrasse 28, October 26th, 10 pm. Yes, that is all correct, except that she is a couple of minutes late due to the heavy traffic. Yet she doesn't see where she is supposed to go.

She scans the length of the building once more and finally sees a railing around a staircase which leads down to a basement. Figuring that this has to be the place she quickly starts to walk. The click-clack of her pencil thin heels echoes off the brick walls as she hurries to the staircase, her breath hangs in a cloud of fog in front of her face as she leans over the railing to look at the door below. Then her face lights up with relief as she recognizes the small card that is neatly taped to the door.

***

I don't have to double check. The card I am looking at is the same as the one I have received a couple of days ago. On the front is a picture of a red mask on black background, like one of those masks people wear at the carnival in venice. Beneath it the words "DarkDesires" in slashing, blood red lettering. On the back the address, date and time, along with two words in a scrawly, almost illegible but very familiar handwriting: "dress sexy!" The sexy is underlined twice.

I didn't know what to make of it. Well, yeah, sure I did know what to do: I would dress sexy and go there. There wasn't any doubt about that part. What I wondered about was why he'd send me that card and me to this place when he was eight thousand miles away. We didn't go to kinky events very often, but when we did, we went there together. Why he wanted me to go out on my own, to a place I had never even heard of and where I most likely wouldn't know anybody was somewhat of a mystery to me. But I knew better than to ask, knowing well that he wouldn't answer anyway. So when he called earlier this day I just told him what dress I had bought for the occasion and that yes, it was one helluva sexy dress and yes, I'd be going there, of course.

He only commented on the dress, said that he'd love to see me wearing it but declined my offer of snapping and sending him a quick photo on the grounds that he very much preferred to see me wearing it for him in a couple days when he would be back, because then he could have me strut around wearing it and thus better judge it and of course he could also rip it off my body and have his way with me. Provided it was indeed one helluva sexy dress. That had been that. No word about the invitation.

***

She walks down the stairs, looking for a doorbell but finding none, not even a door handle. Finally she knocks on the steel door, timid at first, then again, firmer this time, stands back and waits a few seconds until a man wearing a dark suit and a mask opens the door.

"Good evening, Madame," he greets her. "The password, please?" She is lost for a moment, glances at the invitation in her hand, turns it around and holds it up to the faint light that spills through the door but there is no mention of a password. "Dark desires?" she eventually asks and to her relief the young man's lips beneath the mask turn into a smile as he steps aside and welcomes her in.

He helps her out of her short coat, hangs it on a rack that is already quite full of coats, then holds out his hand. "Your clutch please, Madame."

The girl stares at him, protectively closing her fingers around the small purse in her hand. "Err ... sorry, but I need that. Money, lipstick ... girl stuff, you know," she adds with an embarrassed smile.

"No Madame, you don't need it any money. And please allow me to add that your beauty doesn't need any enhancing, either." His words bring a slight blush to her cheeks. He waits until she eventually gives him the clutch, still reluctant to do so.

"Thank you. Here, that's all you need tonight," the masked man adds and hands her a red mask which she puts on, fiddling with the strap beneath her hair for a moment.

"Enjoy your stay, Madame," he says as he parts the heavy curtains which lead to the club.

"Thank you," she replies, glancing nervously back at him. Then she slowly steps into the semi dark of the club, aware of the eyes on her body sizing her up, feeling insecure, exposed and out of place. Her hands shoot up to her chest, as if she wants to shield herself, self-conscious of the fact that her breasts are barely covered by the thin triangles of red silk that make up most of the front of her dress. Or rather, fail to make up, for they leave the sides of her breasts uncovered and show a thinning flash of naked white skin all the way down to just above her belly button. The strips of red silk are tied behind her neck, leaving her back naked, the dress' neckline in the back plunging low, almost to where the buttocks start to part.

Below her hips the dress widens into a short skirt with narrow pleats that would bounce nicely from left to right and back again, probably exposing some of her skin between the skirt and the zig-zag patterned black stockings, if only she were bold, relaxed and self-assured enough to sway her hips. But she isn't and so the onlookers are denied this sight. Her dark locks are held together with a long, narrow silk cloth which she has wrapped around it several times but whose ends still fall between her shoulder blades, accentuating the nakedness of her neck and back and on her feet she wears high heeled red pumps, red obviously being her chosen color for the night.

***

"Gosh! What am I doing here?" I think as I let my eyes wander across the room after they've adjusted to the low indirect light. It looks like the lounging area of a dance club. Except that there is no music, or at least no music to dance to. I train my eyes on the bar to my left, figuring that with a drink I could at least occupy my sweaty hands but when I reach it I remember that I don't have any money with me.

But the girl behind the bar seems to know what troubles me because she assures me that I don't need to pay anything before I can even tell her about my problem and so I soon hold a glass of lemon water in my hand, lean against one of the few empty stools and stare at the row of bottles behind the bar for a minute before I turn around to take a look around. There's a small, unlit stage in the back, a curtained passage right next to it. Several seats and sofas with low tables between them are scattered across the room in no particular order. Most of the sofas are occupied by couples or little groups, but some are still empty. I look at some of the people, notice that most of the men wear expensive suits and the women equally expensive and often quite revealing dresses. A few people wear fetish attire and I also notice that the predominant color is black and that I am the only one who went for red, which makes me standing out like a pheasant in a flock of crows. Quite a few of the people are kissing and I see hands beneath skirts or in trousers, then a couple walks towards the passage, the guy's hand on the gal's butt, the hem of her skirt pushed up to reveal the lower half of her buttocks.

This is definitely not the kind of party I want to be at. Not alone, anyway. I'd very much prefer dancing to some 80s music, or be at a Balkan beats party. But here? Alone? Being stared at and leered after? No thanks. I decide that I will drink my water, then go get my things and go home. And damn the consequences.

A rather tall man approaches the girl in red. "Bonsoir, Mademoiselle. You look absolutely gorgeous," he says with a thick french accent, then he lets his eyes wander over her body before looking into her eyes behind the mask again.

"Err ... thank you," the girl replies blushing.

"No need to say thanks, ma chère. I should be thankful to be allowed to see such beauty," he continues to compliment her. She blushes even deeper, at a loss for words.

Once again he looks at her, for a moment his eyes rest on the smooth silk that stretches over her nipples. "Can I invite you to a drink? A glass of red wine, perhaps?" He stands well within her comfort zone now and she has to tilt her head back to look up at him and examine him, obviously reluctant to accept the offer, but after a few seconds of considering she accepts the invitation with a nod and lets him lead her to one of the empty sofas after he has placed the order to the girl behind the bar.

"Tell me, ma chère, what brings a beautiful girl like you to a place like this all on herself?" he asks, once they are seated on the sofa.

"An invitation," she answers carefully.

"And you accept all invitations you receive?"

She smiles and thanks the barmaid for their wine before she answers. "No. But the person who has sent me this invitation is a ... very special person. I usually do what he tells me to do."

"Aha. I see." He picks up his glass, holds it towards her, toasting. "To your beauty and to your dark desires." It is his time to smile as he sees her cheeks flush.

"My name i...," the girl starts but he interrupts her before she can finish the sentence.

"No, Mademoiselle, we don't need names tonight."

They both sip some of the rich, earthy Bergerac, then put their glasses back on the table and lean back into the soft cushions. The girl once again looks around the room, then back at the man at her side. "Is this a sex club?"

"Not exactly. It's a place where fantasies come true. Fantasies and dark desires."

She doesn't know to say much more than "oh," once again feeling herself blush. "May I ask what you are doing here?" she eventually asks.

"I'm here to make the fantasies of belle demoiselles like you come true," he immediately replies, flashing her a winning smile that makes her blood rush both to her face and between her legs. This time, she doesn't even say "oh." But her cheeks darken a bit more and there's a faint tingling between her legs.

"Do you know your fantasies and dark desires?" he asks and puts his arm on the backrest behind her, without touching her, though. Still, she tenses a bit, her nervousness growing. She can feel the heat of his body on her bare arm and is painfully aware that her dress has rode up her legs, exposing the tops of her stockings and a flash of white skin between the black of the stockings and the red silk of her dress.

"Yes. But I'm not sure if I should talk about them with you," she replies after a few seconds. Letting her gaze wander across the room she goes on, "I'm not even sure if I should be here." She waves her arm in a wide semi circle to indicate that she isn't referring to sitting here on this sofa with him, but that she isn't sure whether she should be in this club in the first place.

"You're not? I thought someone sent you here ... someone special whose orders you usually follow?"

"Yes, but I don't know what to do. What he expects me to do." The girl smiles nervously, picks at the hem of her dress and glances at the stranger's eyes behind the mask.

He chuckles. "Chérie, I don't think he expects you to sit at the bar and read a book. If he knows about this place, he also knows what it is about." She ponders this for a moment, then nods to herself. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

***

Oh my. Dark, tall, handsome strangers ... They're gonna be my downfall one day. Well, I don't know if he's handsome, but if the part of his face that is hidden by the mask matches the lower half then he is. He certainly is tall and dark, though. And chivalrous and cheeky and self assured. Plus he's got a French accent and I've always had a thing for accents. A bit like Jamie Lee Curtis in 'A Fish called Wanda'.

Still, I've got a Master I love very much and I'm not going to cheat on him. But I reckon that a bit of bantering and flirting is OK. Except that the tall, dark and handsome stranger is doing all the bantering and flirting and all I do is flushing and blushing, interspersed with stuttering.

I'm only talking to this guy for a few minutes and already I doubt my decision to accept his invitation. The wine doesn't help to relax, I still feel uncomfortable and I have no idea what to do. Maybe I should get up, say that I'm sorry and this is all a misunderstanding and leave. But then again, Master has sent me to this club and he probably knew what it was about. If only I knew what I'm supposed to do.

I'm usually a rather analytical person, not rushing into things easily before I have thought them over. But sitting next to a tall, dark and handsome stranger, wearing a revealing dress doesn't really help to be analytical. Still, the guy's right, Master knew what he did when he sent me here. I need to put my brains into gear and think about this step by step. After all, I'm a grown up, not a schoolgirl at her first date.

So, step by step: Master has sent me here. He most likely - no, make that certainly - knew what the club is about. He wouldn't have sent me here to read a book, that much is true. Why then? Maybe he's sent me to make a fantasy come true, to fulfill a desire. Yup. Sounds plausible and possible. Probable, even. Now, going from here, what would he want me to do? He would expect me to enjoy myself and he certainly would also expect me to do my best so that those around me are having a good time, too. Yup. I think that is a pretty good assumption, although it's still just an assumption.

***

"Bien sûr, ma chère," he exclaims. "I'm almost always right. And I'm always right when it comes to beautiful young women." Once more he flashes her a cheeky smile which she returns with a new blush to her cheeks. "So, pray tell me, do you know your fantasies and desires?"

"Yes, I know them," the girl says after a moment.

"That's good. Everybody should. A lot of people don't, or they are not even aware of their desires."

This time the silence is much longer as the girl thinks about her fantasies and desires. There are many, but a lot of them will have to remain just that: Fantasies and images to conjure up in her head when she's alone in bed, fingering herself. Or maybe they will be told to her Master, preferably in the the dark because then she doesn't have to look into his eyes when she's not comfortable with telling them or even ashamed of them. At least that's how she'd prefer to do it. Of course it almost never happens that way. He enjoys listening to her and watching her too much to allow her the luxury of darkness. "Besides, I want you to be comfortable with your fantasies," he once said.

Then there are things she'd like to do but which probably are not feasible here and now. Being sold at an auction, for example. And finally there are desires she'd very much like to experience. After all she's still young, it'd be quite sad, in a way, if she had experienced everything already.

"Is there one you want to realize tonight? A desire you want to fulfill?" She falls silent again, for a long time, aware of his presence beside her, thinking about it. He watches her lean forward to pick up the glass and notices that the dress falls from her body just when she too realizes that she's exposed herself and wants to reach up to cover herself.

He holds her wrist and leans into her, whispering in her ear. "Mais non, ma belle fille, this is such a delightful sight, you shouldn't deny me of that pleasure. S'il te plaît." For a moment she tries to free her hand, then she relents and lets it fall to her lap, his still wrapped around hers, a nervous smile and even more flushing to her cheeks as she gets aware of his hand just inches from her crotch.

After a minute he lets go of her. "As a matter of fact, you shouldn't anyone deny that sight. Such beauty mustn't be hidden but shown to everybody with pride."

***

My eyes are fixed on my lap, on his hand around my wrist and the blood rushes so loud in my ears that I barely hear what he whispers next. Or maybe the problem isn't the blood rushing in my ears but that there is no blood left for my ears because it's all pooled either in my cheeks or between my legs. Whatever the reason, it doesn't really matter, because right now I'm not at all interested in words. I'm interested in that hand, or rather, what it is doing. I feel a trail of goose bumps follow it as he gently lets it slide across the belly and on to the cleavage between the two straps that run up to cover, or almost fail to cover, my breasts. I hear myself softly moan as the hand follows my naked skin until it rests between my breasts, then moves even slower to the left to push aside the red silk. When he cups my left breast, holding the sensitive underside, my nipple like a bullet between his forefinger and thumb I get aware that I'm biting my lip. Once more he flashes me his winning smile as I manage to avert my eyes from his hand on my breast and look at him again. A jolt of sweet pleasure shoots through my breast and spreads throughout body when he begins to roll the nipple between his fingers, soon joined by an even sweeter jolt of pain when he pinches it, not too playfully.

This is seriously hot and arousing. He's doing it exactly the way I like it. Tender yet firm. Slow yet without giving me much of a chance to act. My pussy is getting wetter by the second. However, I'm still unsure whether I want all this to happen. I'm not even sure if that's what should happen. What if I misinterpreted my Master? What if this isn't what he expected me to do? I wouldn't ever forgive myself. Couldn't, either. I know I should make up my mind. Stay, play along, be a good girl. Or be a naughty one, depending on the point of view. Or else I should end it now, get up, apologize and leave this club.

Being torn between the two options and not able to make a decision doesn't help at all. I know all that but I still can't make up my mind, can't even properly think about it.

***

The girl is obviously getting aroused, her breath heavy and her heart racing, but her body is also tense. For a moment it looks as if she wants to get up and walk away, or maybe she'd even run. But then she seems to relax, at least until the man lays his left hand on her shoulder and pulls her closer, the other hand still caressing and fondling her small but firm breast.

"Go get us two tonic waters, chérie," he says, holding her back when she tries to stand. "No, I want you to cup your breast and play with your nipple. Show everybody how beautiful you are."

Once again she stares at him, this time with shocked disbelieve in her eyes.

"You know you will enjoy it. You know that being stared at and lusted after will arouse you." The moment stretches, their eyes fixing each other's all the time, until she silently acknowledges that he is right and slowly reaches for her own breast, wincing when he pulls hard on her nipple so she can place her fingers on its base.

A shiver runs through her body when they both hold her nipple for a couple of seconds before he lets go of it and watches her slowly stand up and straightening her dress with her free hand.

Once again she hesitates, looking down hat him, biting her lower lip, before she inhales with new resolve, straightens her body and turns around. Without looking to her left or right she walks to the bar, stopping only when a stocky man crosses her way and looks at her, or rather, at her cleavage, with a mixture of admiration and undisguised lust, before he steps away to let her pass through, looking after her, wishing she would sway her hips a little bit more.

***

Talk about a walk of shame! Well, it isn't that bad, but I'm still aware of many a pair of eyes on me and the short guy sure didn't even try not to stare at my tits. But then again, the tingling between my legs has gotten stronger, so maybe my body and my mind once again have different opinions about what is enjoyable and what isn't. Gotta try to align them. Gotta relax and do what I am expected to do. Do what I think is expected from me. Be the best damn good girl I can be and if that's wrong, well, then at least I can say that I've done my best. Yup. That's what I got to to: Be a good girl.

***

"Two tonic waters, please," the girl says to the smiling barmaid when she has finished serving another guest. Unlike the stubby man, the girl behind the bar actually manages to look at her face when she puts two glasses on the counter. Ice cubes clink, while the barmaid lowers her gaze to the girl's cleavage.

"Nice, very nice," the barmaid comments, opening one of the cooling drawer for the tonic water. She fills the glasses and pushes them towards the girl in red, holding the other girl's hand when she reaches for the drinks. "Can I, too?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I would like to hold your other breast, play with that cute nipple, too," the barmaid replies with a cheeky smile, her red lips parted expectantly. "I think you'll like it."

The girl pauses, thinks, then mumbles something under her breath before she leans forward, saying, "yes, I think so too."

They look at each other as the barmaid reaches across the bar and slides her hand beneath the dress, cupping and squeezing the other tit for a minute, weighing it in her hand, rolling the nipple between her fingers. "They're beautiful. I like them," she says, slightly increasing the pressure on the nipple.

"Uh huh, thank you, I like them too," replies the girl, once again moaning softly. The next moan turns into a short, shrill yelp when the barmaid suddenly pinches her nipple hard.

"Aww, damn! That hurt!" she cries.

"Yes, it did," the girl behind the bar replies, "don't I know it". Another long look into the red girl's eyes. "And now tell me you didn't enjoy the buzzing it brought to your pussy."

A short silence follows as both girls smile at each other because both of them know that this was exactly what happened and because both of them know that the girl enjoyed both the pain and the buzzing it provoked between her legs.

At last the girl slowly shakes her head. "No, can't tell you that. I'm not supposed to lie," she says with a shy grin, then screams once again as the barmaid pinches her nipple a second time.

"Enjoy your time here," the barmaid says and lets go of the nipple, brushing once again against the sensitive underside of the girls breast. "Thank you. I think I will," replies the girl and finally picks up the two drinks, her eyes following the cute girl as she heads down the bar to the next waiting guest.

***

I can still feel the pain receding in my breast and I also still feel the tingling it has evoked in my pussy as I watch the girl go about her business again, smiling at me one last time across her shoulder. 'Yes,' I think, 'I will enjoy this. I will do my best and enjoy it and not worry anymore whether I'm doing the right thing or not.'

My hand is still holding my breast, still making sure everybody can see it, my fingers still gently rolling the nipple. With new resolve I pick up the drinks and turn around, swinging my hips, doing my best to put a genuine smile on my face. This time a couple about my age crosses my path, we look at each other, they both look at my breast, then the girl looks at me again.

"I like that," she says to us both.

"Me too," her partner replies. "And I think she enjoys it, too," he goes on, kneading his girl's butt.

I start walking again, lifting my breast as I pass them. "Yes, I do," I say with a smile, for once without blushing. I'm pretty sure that's the truth.

***

"Merci, chérie," her companion for the evening greets her as she places the glasses on the table in front of him. They both know that neither of them is thirsty. They both know that the only reason for him to send her on this little errand has been to get her out in the open, to expose herself, to show everybody who cared to watch how beatiful she is. Still, he makes a point of taking a sip as the girl sits down beside him again, closer this time, their thighs and shoulders touching.

"It was my pleasure, Sir," she replies politely, still holding her breast. A faint smile plays around his lips, the fact that she switched from the informal 'you' to a respectful 'Sir' hasn't escaped his attention. "Was it?" "Yes. Yes it was."

"How pleasurable was it, exactly? And did you offer your other breast to the barmaid, or did she have to ask?" he wants to know, leaning closer and gently pushing away her hand to take possession of her firm tit once more.

After a moment of fidgeting and blushing she says that it was only pleasurable after she had made up her mind about what she thought was expected of her and after she had decided to go along and do her best. "And no, I didn't offer the barmaid my breast, it was her idea. It never occurred to me because I don't want to impose myself and my kinks on others," she finishes.

"That's good," he says and pinches her nipple, closely watching her reaction, obviously enjoying it when she squirms and winces as the pain once again travels through her body, "although it's quite farfetched to speak of imposing in the case those perfect breasts of yours." Another one of his smug grins follow his words. "Have you thought about which fantasies you want to make come true?"

"Err ... umm ... to be honest, I didn't have much time to think," she giggles, apparently finally relaxing a bit.

"Then do it now and take your time. I'm not going to be bored for a long time, not with such a beautiful woman next to me and not with such a wonderful breast to play with." As if to prove his point he squeezes her breast and rolls the nipple yet a bit harder than before.

She gives him a weak smile, trying to get her mind into gear which isn't too easy with all the distractions and sensations. Finally she takes a deep breath and summons up all her courage.

"I think ...," she pauses, then starts again, her voice a low whisper, "I would like to be with a woman and a man." Another pause follows as he once again hurts her nipple with a vicious pinch, followed by a gasp and a low moan. "Like, pleasing the woman while he uses my body for his pleasure."

"Yes, a very nice picture," he eventually agrees. "How about two men? Being sandwiched between them? Does that interest you?"

This time she doesn't need much time for an answer. "No. No, that doesn't interest me." She pauses, moaning softly when he rolls her nipple between his fingers, pressing down on it. "Well, two guys, why not? But not being sandwiched."

"No?"

"No." She pauses, pondering whether she should explain why this isn't an option or whether she should just leave it at her 'No'. At last, having made up her mind, she continues. "I mean, I'd like to be taken and used by two guys at the same time ... but ... but not in my ass. Aieee!" she shrieks when he pulls on her nipple. "My ass is reserved for him." Another short silence follows before she quietly goes on. "Being screwed by one guy ... while giving the other head .... that yes. I'd like to do that."

He doesn't reply, lets her think about her own words, gives her time to realize that if that's really what she wants to experience it can easily be arranged. Then he reaches for her hair, grabs it firmly, turns around her head and looks straight into her eyes. "Tres bien, chérie. I like that idea."

***

Oh yeah, right. Big surprise there. I don't think there's a lot of guys here tonight who wouldn't like the idea of screwing a girl. I don't really know why I went along with this fantasy, it certainly isn't my favorite. I mean, I could live without making it true. But then again, it doesn't really matter which one I pick, does it? I think I'll enjoy it and I'm pretty sure they will enjoy it, too.

Just like I enjoy his hand in my hair, I'm obviously not the first gal he holds like this. A firm, tenacious grip, bordering on being painful, letting me know who's in charge. Exactly the way I like it.

"Hmm, you smell terrific," he whispers in my ear, then his stubble scratches my cheek as he lowers his head and buries his face in the curve of my neck, tasting and smelling my skin, doing all the things a guy should do when kissing and caressing a girl's neck. Or my neck, particularly.

And if he continues to flash me that grin and fondle my tits and caress my neck I'll soon have to go to the ladies' to wring the juices from my panties. So, yeah, I guess it's safe to say I'm enjoying it, enjoying myself. I wouldn't have believed it would be so easy to enjoy myself with someone else, but it is. Of course it helps that I'm assuming, no, I'm convinced of it by now, that this is what I'm supposed to do.

Or would I enjoy myself even if that weren't the case? No, I don't think so. I wouldn't be here to begin with if it wasn't my Master's wish and if I were I wouldn't even have allowed the tall, dark stranger to touch me.

Relax, girl, I tell myself. You're doing the right thing. You just need to make sure you also do it right and be a good girl.

***

His lips slowly follow her neck up to her ear where he pauses to nibble the lobe, his stubble all the time tickling her, before he moves along her jaw to her chin. Their masks touch when he raises his head and turns hers with his hand in her hair, his lips only an inch from hers, hovering above them, waiting, teasing her. He doesn't have to see her lips to know that they're trembling, that she's longing for his touch. Her breath is heavy and she's given up trying to suppress her moans.

They both know that she's aroused, they both know that she wants to give in to her desires, go find a second man, take him to the back of the club, let them use her. But they also both know that this is his game and they're playing it according to his rules, so when she finally moves and reaches for the back of his head, to pull him close, to feel his lips on hers, he twists her hair and pulls her head back, exposing her throat.

"Non, non, non, ma chère. You have to pay for your fantasies to come true," he says, looking into her wide open eyes and pulling on her nipple. "I want proof that you want to go ahead. Proof of your desire."

She swallows and slowly nods.

"Bonne fille," he smiles but keeps her in his firm grip all the time as she thinks about how to prove that she really wants to go ahead, that she's ready.

***

Oh my. Oh my oh my. If he keeps doing that I don't even need to go to whatever is behind that curtain but instead I will cum right here and now. And he expects me to think about some proof! I sure could do with a little bit of oxygen between my ears to think, but it feels as if all my blood is racing down to pool between my legs.

A proof. A proof of my desire to be fucked by two guys... How fucked up is this? Pretty much, but then again, it's also totally hot. Proof ... . My head turns in circles, but then, finally, I have the solution.

***

"I can give you my panties, Sir," the girl finally offers, her voice a hoarse whisper.

"I'm surprised you're wearing panties, chérie," he says grinning and without commenting on her offer. "I'd have thought that a eager girl like you wouldn't."

She blushes, swallows again and waits for him to either accept of reject the proof.

"If they are damp enough they will do," he finally says. "But I have a hunch that this isn't a problem, right?"

Again she doesn't immediately reply. "No, Sir. That shouldn't be a problem," she finally whispers. Indeed, the question isn't whether her panties are damp or not. The only question is whether her juices are already dripping out of them.

Once again she has to learn that it's his game and his rules when she reaches beneath her skirt and raises her butt to take off her panties. He pulls hard on her hair once again and pinches her nipple, making her whimper with the pain.

"Mais non, ma chère, I'm sure you can do much better than that. N'est ce pas?"

With a nod she gives in, feels him relax his grip on her hair a little bit. "Yes, Sir, I can do better. But you need to let go of me. Please, Sir."

Another minute passes in which he lets her feel that anything that happens is because he wants it to happen. If he want's to let go of her, let her give him those soaked panties, then that's his decision. If he wants to spend the next two hours with her on this sofa, kissing and fondling her, maybe have her reach into the fly of his trousers, then that's what she's gonna get. If he wants her to strip and dance on the table, then that's what she's going to do. If he wants to go look for a second guy, take her through the curtained passage and screw her brains to mush, then that's what's going to happen. Either way, she's going to obey and do her damn best. He can see that in her eyes.

At long last he lets go of her hair and squeezes her nipple one last time before his hand leaves her breast, brushing against the soft underside. Then he takes hold of her wrist and lifts it up so she can once again play with her tit. She remains beside him for a moment, then gets up, facing him, slowly rolling her hips as she reaches for her other breast with her right hand, exposing that too, playing with herself, smiling down at him, her lips moist and pouty, her skin rosy in the dim light.

Resisting the temptation to look at his crotch she looks in his eyes all the time, moving her body to no particular music, at least not the jazz that is being played at low volume. Her attitude is now completely different to what it has been earlier, her motions fluid and graceful, her stance proud, her face radiating, as if she finally hasn't only accepted what is happening and what she is supposed to do, but has actually embraced it and is enjoying it now.

After a few minutes she steps forward to stand between his spread legs. Bending forward she places her hands on his thighs and gracefully lowers her head, lower and lower, until the swirl of her dark locks fall down, exposing and offering her delicate neck an act and a sign of her submission to him but also done with a much more practical purpose, as is apparent when he reaches for the straps of her dress and pulls on the bow. "Thank you, Sir," she says in a soft, almost purring voice, once again raising her head, then slowly pushing herself upright again, the dress peeling away from her, the straps still in his hands. The girl puts her hand behind her head, pushes out her chest, dark, erect nipples poking the air, her body naked from the waist up, the French man looking at her, letting his gaze wander freely up and down her body, looking at what is his for the night.

***

Yes. Yes! Finally I am in the right frame of mind to do my best and enjoy it. Dunno how or when it happened. Probably when I decided that I'd offer him myself, along with my panties and made up my mind how to do it. That felt kinda final. Give up control, let him do what he wants to do, play the game. Play his game.

However and whenever it happened doesn't matter, though. It feels good now. I feel good now. Still, I'm aware of people looking at me as I stand before him, semi-naked, slowly moving, looking down at him, smiling, but their eyes on my tits don't really count. My job is to please him and enjoy myself and not being worried about people staring. And as far as I can tell from looking at my squire for the night, I'm doing my job pretty well. He takes his time pulling down the dress, obviously enjoying to unwrap me slowly as much as I do being unwrapped without haste. Once the dress is down on my hips, the waistband of the panties just about peeking out from the red silk, he stops pulling altogether and watches me for a full five minutes.

For a moment I try to picture myself with his eyes, thinking that I've come a pretty long way since I started on this journey since doing something like this was way beyond me not too long ago. But then I push that thought from my mind and concentrate on the task at hand again.v

He pulls me closer, using the straps of the dress like a handle, until my legs touch the sofa, my crotch only inches from his face when he finally continues to unwrap me.

This is so fucking hot, to be undressed by a guy I've never met before and probably will never see again, to know that he'll pull down my panties and fuck me, own me and use me. So fucking hot. I only wished my Master was here. I think he'd be proud of me.

***

Once the dress is past the girl's hips it quickly falls to the floor, leaving her standing just in her stockings, shoes and tiny, semi-transparent black panties, held on her hips by two red bows. She takes her time to lift first one leg, put it over his, then, still holding both hands behind her head but supported by his hands on her waist, she lifts the other, straddling him, her own legs spread wide, the panties tainted dark where her juices have wetted them, the thin fabric neatly outlining her sex.

"S'il vous plaît, Monsieur," the girl whispers, arching her back and opening herself to him, offering him much more than just the triangle of lace and silk between her legs. One of his hands remain on her hip, the other slowly trails the seam of her panties to her crotch, rubbing her through the silk, evoking a slight tremble and a moan from the girl.

"Oui, ma chère, it is wet enough. Not that I have ever doubted that," he says appreciatively, then slides a finger along her slit, pushing the black lace between her folds, repeating this slowly, until she picks up the rhythm and begins to moan and roll her hips in time with his finger's movement on her pussy. Then he lets go of her hip, opens the bow on her right and watches as more of her smooth pale skin is exposed. Finally he unties the other ribbon, still rubbing her pussy through the panties, letting them soak up more of her juices until he lifts it up to his nose, leaving her wanton, her hips still slowly grinding, her moans turning from lustful to frustrated.

"Hmm, parfait!" he exclaims after he sniffed the panties a couple of times. "I'll keep those as a souvenir." He puts the panties in his pocket, lets his hand glide up her leg, placing his finger between her lips once more, the tip pressing against her hole.

"Do you want to cum, chérie?"

Of course that's a rhetorical question, it's quite obvious that this is the thing she wants most at the moment. But of course that's no reason not to answer.

"Yes, Sir. Please," she utters between moans.

"And your desire to be with two men? You still want that, too?"

Right then, she would have promised him anything if he only made her cum. However, she doesn't have to lie when she says that yes, she'd love to do that, too.

"Do you want it enough to forego this orgasm," he asks.

For a moment she is silent, her body still moving slowly. "Isn't it possible to have both?" she asks with cheeky smile.

He returns the smile, pushes his finger a bit further into her slippery hole. "That isn't the question." He fucks her a couple of times, puts a second finger to her pussy. "The question is, do you deserve both?"

***

Have I deserved both? Should I be allowed to cum now and then be fucked by two guys? Yes, I think I do. I'm pretty sure I'm doing the right thing, at least I'm doing the right thing according to my best knowledge. I have gone way beyond of what I would have thought possible when I exited the taxi a few hours ago. And I think I also have done the best I can. Maybe not in the beginning, but since I've stood up to let him have my panties I've been the girl, the sub I strive to be. So, yeah, I do deserve both. The question is whether asking for both is presumptuous. Should I pretend to be better than I actually am and forego an orgasm just so I don't appear greedy or needy, or should I be true to myself and say "Hell yes, I want it all and I want it now?" Well, maybe I should word it a bit more respectful, but basically that's it.

***

The girl's body moves on his fingers all the time, probably unbeknownst to her, as she ponders the question, taking her time to find the right answer. "Yes, Sir, I think I do," she finally says.

"You think you do?"

This time she answers faster. "No, actually I'm sure. I've done my best and I know that I will continue to do my best. So, yes, I deserve both to cum now and experience being used by two guys later," she says with a wide grin, then she adds, "and of course I'd be very much honored if you're granting me both, Sir."

He never answers her, keeping her in the dark about what's going to happen obviously being part of his plan. Instead he inserts the tip of a second finger in her pussy, slowly fucks her, letting her grind herself on his fingers as he reaches up to play once again with the nipple that has endured so much already.

Her moans get louder and louder as he slides his fingers deeper into her pussy, exploring the smooth hot wetness, feeling her clench around him. Suddenly, he pulls out of her, leaving her empty and wanton and longing for more, lifts his fingers to her face, paints a wet mustache on her upper lip before he holds them to her lips and watches her lick them clean. "Taste good?"

She licks her lips and then gives him her cutest and most lascivious smile. "Yes Sir."

Then she gasps as he pushes the finger in again, deep this time, placing his thumb on her clit to rub it, bringing her to the edge of an orgasm in a matter of minutes.

Suddenly she looks up, sees a few people watching her, her composure cracking, her body freezing as she gets aware of being observed until he reaches up, holds her chin, forces her head back to face him and commands her to look back at him again, and only at him.

***

I wonder what he has in mind, whether he will grant me both, but then I'm soon lost in the moment, concentrate on his fingers inside me, on the thumb on my lit, the hand on my tit, feeling myself getting close to an orgasm.

The scent of my arousal is heavy, I can smell my wanton cunt, as I look up and see several people looking at me, looking straight between my legs at my dripping pussy. I had completely forgotten about our surroundings, have concentrated only on him and myself, blocked out everything else and now it all comes back in a rush. Damn! Damn! I don't want to cum with all those people watching me. My lust and pleasure are none of their business!

I don't know what to do, can't go back to that place I've been before, know that I can't go there on my own. But then he does the right thing: Holding my chin in an iron grip, once again letting me know who's calling the shots tonight, telling me that I shouldn't even think about other people, that he's the one who counts because he's the only person who can grant me both an orgasm now and make my fantasy come true.

***

Riding the fingers in her pussy, the girl relaxes again, gasping when he pinches her nipple, moaning when he pushes inside her. A few minutes pass by, his fucking and her bucking getting faster, it's obvious that once again she's nearing the edge.

"Please, Sir," she begs eventually.

He slowly shakes his head, thrusts even deeper into her dripping pussy and watches her face as she fights the urge to cum, enjoying the sight but hating the fact that most of her face is covered by a mask.

Once again she begs him for his permission to cum, interrupted by a gasp as he twists her nipple, once again he shakes his head, knowing that she will do her best and hope that her best is good enough. She stops pleading and concentrates on not cumming, her moans all the time getting louder, her arms getting tired but her will to be a good girl is still stronger than the weakening muscles.

Then he fucks her a couple times with quick, hard thrusts, pushes forcefully into her, spreading her, his thumb all the time rubbing her clit, almost pushing her over the edge.

"Please ... Sir ... please let ... let me ... let me cum, please ...," the girl moans, her body glowing from her own heat, little droplets of sweat on her forehead, her mouth open, the pink tip of her tongue showing between her red lips.

This time he doesn't even shake his head. She knows that as long as he doesn't give her explicit permission she's not supposed to cum and so she fights it, also knowing that she can't obey much longer when all of a sudden he pulls his fingers out of her pussy, evoking a frustrated sigh from her as her pussy suddenly clenches around nothing.

Then she moans again as he reaches for her swollen, throbbing clit, takes it between his fingers like the fingers of his other hand hold her nipple. A loud yelp escapes her lips as he pinches them both at the same time. "Cum!" he commands her simultaneously and her pained yelp quickly dissolves in a loud scream of pleasure as an orgasm shakes her body, her back arching, her pussy flooding his hand, her body shivering and rigid until she falls forward and buries her face on his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him, still trembling with the aftermath of her orgasm.

***

His hand is still between my legs, his fingers inside me again, slowly fucking to draw out my orgasm, when I finally raise my head to whisper a "thank you, Sir," in his ear. For a while neither of us moves, his arm around me, his hand gently stroking my back, mine around him, holding myself, as I try to sort my feelings. I'm content, of course, enjoying that peaceful contentment only an intense orgasm can bring. But I'm also surprised about myself. For a moment I think back to that very first time I've met a man to make a few of my fantasies come true. It isn't that long ago, a couple of years, yet the path I've walked in the meantime has led me far, much further than I ever thought it would. And last, but not least, I feel also indebted to this man. That's maybe wrong, he didn't do anything he didn't want to do, but still I feel as if I owe him. But then again, I'm offering him everything he wants. Or almost everything.

He continues to caress her back, moving towards her neck, reaches for her hair again and pulls her back, but gently this time, giving her time to loosen her grip around his body.

"You don't need to thank me, chérie," he finally says, slowly pulling his fingers out of her. "It was my pleasure. Besides, you will pay."

"Yes Sir," she whispers, her face still flushed.

He lifts his hand to his face, licks one finger clean. "Hmm, c'est delicieux!" he exclaims and smacks his lips, then holds the other finger out for her to clean it of her juices while he unties the silk band that holds her hair together. After checking the length of the silk cloth he starts to tie it around her neck, pausing to look into her eyes when he feels her body tense, giving her time to accept that he's going to tie her up, then proceeds to fasten it around her neck, finally testing the knot thoroughly to make sure that it doesn't slip.

"You're so beautiful, I must make sure you stay here with me," he whispers, winking.

"I won't go anywhere as long as you don't tell me to, Sir," she replies truthfully.

"Yes, I know. But someone might want to steal you," he chuckles. "Now turn around, ma chère."

Once she sits astride him again, her back towards him, he ties each wrist with the long end of the silk cloth. Not too high to be uncomfortable, not even if she's going to be bound for a long time, but still so that she experiences the feeling of being restraint all the time.

"OK like this? If anything goes wrong, say 'red'. I've got scissors with me." She turns around and looks at him. "Yes. It's OK like this. And I'll say 'red' when something is wrong."

"Good girl," he smiles. "Now I want you to close your eyes so I can blindfold you before we go searching for a second guy for you to have fun with."

"Umm, Sir?"

"Yes, chérie?"

"I need to go to the ladies room first."

"Ah, bien sûr. But I'm afraid you'll have to go tied up like this. Might have to ask someone for help." He grins, slaps her butt playfully as she climbs off of him, flashing him a smile and thanking him politely as she turns around and starts to walk towards the bar.

***

Jeez! Those Doms! They're all the same. Give them a chance to send you on an errand naked and bound and they all jump on it. Except that I haven't given him a chance, he created it all by himself. But then again, he probably figured that it would get me in the right frame of mind for what is to follow, apart from just enjoying to see me walking around the club in my birthday costume. And hell, he's right, I realize as I approach the bar, scanning the room until I see a door next to the bar with a female and a male stick figure. Yes, he's right, this time I don't mind the eyes on my body, I even look at a few of the people as I walk past them. But then I see that I need help to open the door. Also, there's no way I'm going to offer myself to two men without wiping me after having peed. So, yeah, I definitely need help.

***

The girl stops a few meters from the door to the toilets, her chest struck out, head held high, her chestnut locks cascading over her shoulders. Then she looks to her left, tries to catch the eyes of the barmaid but seeing her being busy she turns around once more, looking to her right right. Her eyes fall on a couple on the next sofa. She, a blonde with short hair, wearing a leather skirt and a leather tank top, along with boots that make her legs look even longer than they already are. Her hand is around the neck of a shorter man with receding hairline, apparently her slave or sub. Another couple had been with them when the girl had gone to the bar, playing with her tit, to fetch the two tonic waters as she remembers now, but maybe they have gone to the back or are preparing for a scene on the little stage like a few of the other guests are doing.

But she doesn't have time to dwell on that, she needs to pee and she needs to pee soon. So she approaches the couple, figuring that she probably should direct herself to the woman, but then deciding that she shouldn't assume that she was the Mistress and he her sub and talks to them both.

They both watch her with an amused smile playing around their lips, leaning back, probably guessing what the girl's problem is.

"Good evening, Ma'am, Sir," the girl says, nodding her head at each of them, waiting for their greeting before she goes on. "Could I please ask for your help? I need to go to the toilet, but ...," she breaks off, turning half around to show them her bound hands behind her back.

The woman looks her over, lets the girl wait for some time until she answers the girl's request. "You mean, you need my help to open the door and wipe that cute pussy of yours?" A wide smile spreads over the woman's face, like it does on her male partner's.

The girl nods, blushing. "Yes, Ma'am, if you'd be so kind."

Again she has to wait while the woman looks at her, then whispers to her partner. "There's going to be a price to be paid, sweetheart," the blonde Mistress finally says.

"Yes, I know," the girl replies, bowing her head deferentially.

***

I feel myself blush as I stand before this couple, feeling their eyes on my naked body. This is quite humiliating, having to ask a stranger to help me to the toilet. But there's no denying it: It's also highly arousing. Never understood that, probably never will understand why something that isn't really nice to experience per se still leads to an accelerated heartbeat and a tingling pussy. But then again, it doesn't really matter why it happens, it's enough for me that it happens. Coming to think of it, it doesn't matter at all. I just gotta do what I gotta do, period.

***

The woman in black leather gets up, holds the girl's arm and guides her towards the door, holding it open. Inside the stall, the girl wants to push the door closed, but the Domme quickly steps in, smiling as the naked girl blushes once more.

"No privacy for slaves," she giggles, telling the girl not to sit down on the toilet so she can watch her.

The girl struggles, tries to relax, doesn't succeed, takes a couple of deep breaths and finally seems to be able to let go. But just then the woman reaches out, cups the girl's cunt, looks into her eyes and lets the girl know that she will leave her hand where it is until the girl is done.

A minute passes, two minutes, the two women looking at each other, one of them smiling, the other at least trying to smile.

"I couldn't do it," the blonde says eventually, clearly enjoying the girl's torment. "But then again, I don't have to."

"Yeah, sometimes I wished I wasn't submissive but dominant, too", the girl says.

The woman doesn't miss a beat. "No, you don't. Not really."

The girl looks up at the blonde, meets her gaze, then nods. "Yes. Not really."

Finally the girl starts to pee, blushing a deep crimson with the knowledge that she does not only have no privacy at all, no, she actually is peeing on a stranger's hand. Not that she has a choice, but it still is embarrassing.

"Nice, I've always wanted to do that with a girl," the Domme says grinning and stands up again. "Sub or slave?" she asks as she walks to the sink to wash her hands without wiping the girl's pussy first.

"Sub, I think. But to me it doesn't really matter. As long as it's right for my Master and myself."

"Yup, true. By the way, your little show was fantastic," the Mistress says, drying her hands.

"Thank you Ma'am," the girl replies, blushing a bit with the thought that the whole room had probably watched her cumming.

"Are you here for the first time?" The Domme turns to face the girl once again.

"Yes, ma'am. Ma'am? I ... umm," she goes on, then stops, looking down at herself where a few drops of pee still glistened on her pussy.

"Yes, dear?"

The girl bites her lips. "Err ... couldn't you, please, ... err ... wipe me, ma'am?"

"No," the Domme replies, then tells the confused girl to get out of the stall. "Can I have a word with your Master?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible, ma'am. He isn't here."

"No?"

The woman listens intently as the girl tells her why she is here and why she is doing what she is doing. She is clearly impressed. "So you do what you think is expected of you?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Sounds like a gamble. What if your assumption is wrong?"

"Then I'm in big trouble, but at least I can honestly say I've done my best."

Gently stroking the girl's jawline, the Domme smiles at her. "You're doing your Master a lot of honor. He must be very proud of you."

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll let him know," the naked girl replies, the color of her cheeks darkening.

"OK, if your Master isn't here, I'll have to make an assumption myself," the Mistress smiles wickedly and leads the girl out to the club once again. There she tells her to present herself and sits down again. "Clean her," she commands her slave, taking hold of the leash.

***

Yeah, I really hope I'm doing the right thing. Trouble doesn't even begin to describe what I'm in if I'm wrong. But that thought doesn't help me at all. I've made my decision, now I've got to stick to it. If I want to do my best I got to concentrate on doing that, not ponder possibilities.

As I follow the woman to the lounge again I wonder what assumption she's been talking about, but I soon find out when she tells the guy to clean me. Oh well. Right. No privacy. Not when I'm peeing, not now. When exactly has my pussy become public property? What will my French friend say to this? What would my Master say if he knew I was having my pussy cleaned by a stranger? He'd probably say nothing, just smile with the knowledge that I had been both deeply humiliated and aroused at the same time. Like he would smile when I told him about the scene in the toilet.

***

The guy doesn't hesitate for a second and goes down on his knees in front of the bound girl. She takes a little side step, probably without being aware of it, to give him better access, her eyes never leaving that of the Mistress. His tongue slides along her slit, once, twice, then a third time, parting her lips this time, lingering on her clit. The girl gasps when he flicks it, strains to suppress a moan, determined to keep her position and stay immobile until she is either dismissed or allowed to move.

"Enough, my dear." The Mistress pulls him away with a tug on the leash. "Clean her, I've said. Making her cum isn't your job. There's other pussy you can worship."

Then she smiles up at the flushed girl. "Give your Master my regards and tell him I was very pleased with you."

"Yes, ma'am, I will. Thank you," the girl replies, then remembers that she's still got to pay for the woman's help. "Ma'am, what about the price you mentioned?"

The Domme chuckles, tugging the leash. "I didn't say you've got to pay it. But I don't think it was too much. To clean such a sweet girl is rather a reward, isn't it?" she asks her slave.

"Yes Mistress, it is," the slave answers, kneeling at his Mistress' feet.

"Well, I think you should go back to your knight for the night and be a good girl. Maybe we'll meet again, one day."

With a curtsy and a "thank you very much, Ma'am," the girl says goodbye and turns around to finally head back to her companion.

"All done and enjoyed?" he asks, pulling her down to sit on his lap. "Yes Sir," she replies, then her cheeky side wins the upper hand for a moment. "Wanna check?" she asks with a grin.

"Non merci, ma chère, I believe you. Close your eyes so I can take off your mask and blindfold you."

Once again she tenses for a second, but then she relaxes and when he reaches up to remove the mask, her eyes are closed and remain closed until he has tied a black cloth across her eyes.

"Thirsty?"

"A bit, yes." He holds the glass to her lips and then tells her to stand, leading her slowly across the room.

"I'll be right back. I think I've seen someone who could be interested in having some fun with you." He leaves her standing in the middle of the room and walks away, turning after a few meters to look at her erect figure. Then he walks on, his lips curled in a mischievous smile.

***

I have thought that being naked and bound was bad enough and didn't really fancy the idea of being blindfolded too. But I should have known that it actually makes everything easier. I know that I'm standing in the middle of the room and I'm pretty sure that people are looking at me, but since I can't see them it bothers me much less than it did earlier.

Being blindfolded will also make the fucking much more intense. Nothing new there. No problem there, either. I like intense. As a sucker for taste and smells and touch I can perfectly live without the sense of sight. A propos fucking: I wonder what kind of guy he has in mind. Will I ever know who has used my body? I doubt it. Does it really matter? Yes, in a way it does, because the thought of being fucked by someone I've never seen before and probably never will is totally hot. Arousing to the point that I wouldn't be surprised to feel a few drops of my juices running down my legs.

Does that make me a filthy slut? Yeah, I'm sure some people would think so. But then again, there's only one person's opinion on the matter that really counts and it certainly isn't the opinion of some random people. It isn't mine, either.

***

For several minutes the girl stands there, her back straight, legs slightly apart and shoulders pushed back, her hands pulled up until the silk between them and her neck falls slack. She cocks her head at the sound of whipcracks from the small stage, listens intently as the pained moans of a man reach her ear, maybe she's picturing the slave who has cleaned her pussy being whipped by his Mistress.

When her 'temporary Master', accompanied now by an even taller, lean man, takes her by her elbow she jumps first, apparently taken by surprise or maybe she was lost in her thoughts.

He turns her around so she faces the second man. This one reaches out, trails her jaw, her throat, then cups her breast, caressing and squeezing it before he reaches between her legs and fingers her for a moment. He smiles and nods at the Frenchman, who then steers the girl towards the back of the club. She follows his lead, through the curtained passage into a long hall with a couple of doors on either side. They enter one of the rooms with nothing but a large, leather padded seat with a high backrest and a king sized bed in it. But of course the girl doesn't know anything about the furnishing, nor does she know what exactly is going to happen next.

She does know that they're not alone, though, she's sensed the presence of the third person, the one who had fingered her, as he had followed them to this room. However, so far he hasn't said a word. He remains silent as he unzips his pants, watching the French as he leads the girl to the seat. "Kneel here, chérie, and lay your body on the backrest." The man helps the girl up on the seat, then steadies her as she lowers her body until her chest comes to lay on the backrest. The bound girl settles in until she finds a comfortable position, then arches her back, raising her naked butt, the glistening pussy clearly visible between her legs.

Both men stand back, admire her, enjoy the sight of what they'll soon enjoy in a much more physical way. "She's doing great, non?" the French man asks the other one, smiling as he sees him nod. "I bet her Master would be proud of her."

The girl remains silent, waiting, aware of how exposed she is, aware of how aroused she is and also aware of what will follow. Although she doesn't know for certain, she's pretty sure that both her pussy and her head are at a perfect height for them to use. A slight shiver runs through her body, she arches her back even more, as if she wants to invite the two men, once again offering her body, offering herself.

***

Come on, guys! Come on and fuck me! I've gone so far tonight, much further than I dared to believe I could go a few hours ago, now I want to feel it, feel them, feel them fill me. Want them to take me and fuck me and make me theirs.

I know they're standing behind me, looking at me, looking at my most private parts, exposed and dripping. I don't care. I know that they admire me, my glistening pussy. I know that the sight of it gets them hard and ready. Ready to push into me and fuck me. Gosh! What takes them so long? Do I have to beg them, isn't offering myself the way I do enough? Come on, guys, come on and fuck me already!

***

Both men stand with their arms folded, their eyes on the girl before them, knowing that she's waiting and wanton, but also knowing that she's getting more aroused with every second that ticks away. A quivering motion runs through her body, then they both step forward, reach for the perfect orbs of her ass, the French man's hand sliding between her legs after he has kneaded the buttock for a minute, finding her pussy dripping wet and scorching hot.

Gasping and moaning as soon as he touches her cunt the girl immediately begins to roll her hips, acting like a bitch in heat, her need obvious. He begins to rub her slowly, sliding his finger along her cunt, parting the swollen lips, watching her closely.

She picks up the rhythm, tries to increase the pressure on her pussy, searches for his finger with her clit, but he denies her that pleasure. Instead, he steps to her side and bends down without stopping to tease her.

"Fuck me," he whispers in her ear. And again, "fuck me. Fuck me." After a moment she picks up the words. "Fuck me. Fuck me," she moans, very much like Lula in Wild at Heart. "Fuck me." A soft cry follows as he slips two fingers inside her molten cunt. "Fuck me, please. Fuck ... uggh ... me, please fuck me ... fuckmefuckmefuckme ... please ...," she stammers, the tone of her voice more pleading with every word, her urgency growing, her need almost unbearable.

Mr. Silent finally lets go of her buttock, walks to her head and drops his pants. Then he pulls up her head with a firm grip on her hair, the other hand directing his erect cock to her nose, let her smell him.

A silent chuckle follows when she immediately tries to reach for the cock with her mouth after she smelled it, or maybe she's seen the tip beneath the blindfold. But he holds her head firmly, waits until the French man is also ready, his cock placed at the entrance of her pussy. Then he moves forward, gives her time to wrap her lips around his cock, pushes into her mouth just when the other pushes into her cunt.

They both smile at each other when the girl almost immediately cums, the long buildup of arousal culminating in a quick, yet forceful orgasm as both her cunt and mouth are penetrated. But they don't give her time to enjoy it and start to fuck her, in a slow pace, taking their time because they know that the girl won't go anywhere, even if she could, not until she knows that she's satisfied them both.

***

Yes, yes, yes! It's better than I had ever imagined. I never really doubted that I'd enjoy being taken by to men at the same time, but now it just feels goooooood! The first orgasm took me completely by surprise, it rushed through my body almost before I even realized it.

Now I just hope that I manage to take the one fucking my mouth deep. It doesn't always work, far from it, but unlike a pornstar I can't shoot the scene a couple of hours later or on the next day. Or maybe they are better than me and manage to take a cock down their throats every time. Well, I'm no pornstar. But I'll do my best.

***

The French man holds the girl's hips, thrusts deep into her, enjoys her hot flesh wrapped around his cock, welcoming him in. Her hips roll with lust and the desire to feel him as deep inside her cunt as possible. At the same time she meets the equally slow thrusts of the cock in her mouth, feeling it sliding in deeper and deeper, touching her throat. She concentrates on her breathing, suppressing the gag reflex, wanting this to work, relaxing as he pulls out again, realizing that he knows it's not as easy as it looks in porn flicks. Once again he slowly pushes in, the grip of her hair loosening to give her room to move her head and finally swallow him.

Both men push deeper now, but still at a slow pace, watching the girls body as once again she gets closer and closer to the edge. Her second orgasm is made obvious by shivers running through her body and her muffled groans turning to muffled cries, her pussy clenching around the penis inside it, her arms unconsciously pulling on the strap, her back arching even more, rivulets of her juices wetting her thighs. Her orgasm is prolonged and intensified when the one fucking her cunt cums too, filling her wanton pussy, his throbbing and twitching cock driving her wild, all the time pushing inside her.

The guy fucking her mouth cums a minute later, watching her as she struggles to swallow his sperm, remaining inside her mouth until she is done cleaning him. Then they both pull out of her, wipe their dicks on her cheeks and sit down on the bed, leaving her alone.

She hears them whisper, feels the French's cum and her own juice oozing from her cunt and run down her thighs, her jaw aching, the silk around her neck pulling slightly, but not uncomfortable, just a reminder of her helplessness.

***

Was that it? Or will there be a second, maybe even third round? And what are they discussing? No need to think about it, it won't be my decision anyway. Que sera, sera. I let my head hang again, relieving the aching neck muscles. The taste of cum is still in my mouth and I can feel cum on my thighs, making me feel dirty and filthy and used. That's OK, though, after all it's what I wanted. And I certainly wouldn't mind to be used some more. Maybe I should ask? Wiggle my ass to get their attention?

***

The girl remains motionless, her head hung low, back arched, breath slowly returning to normal until the French guy gets up again and walks toward her, a few minutes later.

"We're going to whip your ass now, chérie."

When she hears his words her whole demeanor changes in a split second. Her body tenses, she lifts her head, almost straightens up to kneel erect on the chair, but then she relaxes a bit. "No. No you won't whip my ass." She's agitated now, her voice loud for a moment, until she remembers her place and continues in a quieter, yet still firm tone. "That was never part of the deal, Sir."

The two men look at each other, smiling, then the girl's temporary Master goes on, "yes, I know, ma chère. I was just teasing you. We will stick to the deal, no worries."

Now the girl visibly relaxes again, her mind racing, thinking of what she would have done if they had started to whip her. Not much to be done about it, she realizes. They could easily hold her on the seat and whip her ass to a bloody pulp, or any other part of her body, for that matter. But the guy's been OK so far, no need to mistrust him all of a sudden.

Eventually she speaks again, her voice a low whisper, barely audible. "If you want, you can spank me."

"You want a spanking?" The two men exchange amused glances.

"No. No I don't want one, but if you think you'll enjoy to spank me I'm OK with that. No whipping, though."

"Fair enough."

***

Cripes! That was so not smart! I really don't feel like getting spanked. I feel like getting fucked and used. No idea what made me say that, but there's little doubt they take me up on the offer. Even I couldn't resist to spank a cute girl's ass if she offered it. Ah well. It won't kill me, and I'll get to experience my first double spanking. Gotta look at the bright side.

***

Standing on either side of the girl the two guys start with kneading and rubbing her butt. The one who hasn't a said a word since he joined them starts to playfully slap her, the other joins in, up her butt and down to her thighs, warming her flesh, getting her ready. The slaps get harder, each of the guys going at his own pace which leaves the girl little to no chance to prepare herself for the next blow, if she tries to prepare herself at all.

A couple of minutes of thorough spanking later her firm, round buttocks are a bright scarlet and her pained moans and gasps are turning into stifled cries.

Eventually she starts to beg.

"Stop ... please stop." They don't stop. One smack after the other hits her bottom, her body is covered in a sheen of sweat, her breathing labored between her grunts and cries.

"Please ... uggghh ... please ..." Tears are running down her face, the cries have become sobs, still determined not to use the safeword, willing to endure the pain a bit longer, just a couple of seconds, a few smacks. Wanting to be a good girl.

But then they stop, let their hands rest on her glowing asscheeks, gently rubbing it while playing with her small tits, teasing and pinching her. She takes a couple of deep breaths, slowly recovering as the pain in her ass gets bearable but knowing that she will feel the throbbing heat intensely again when they're fucking her. And there's little doubt they will fuck her at least once more, their cocks are hard and erect again, ready to use her.

Finally they let go of her, the silent guy stands behind her, throbbing cock already teasing her cunt as he bends forward and takes her hair in a firm grip, instantly evoking a pained yet lustful moan as he pulls her head up, getting her ready to swallow the French's cock.

***

Thank god they finally stopped. There wasn't much of a bright side about this spanking. Kinda too fast, too intense and not intimate enough. But then again, it was for their enjoyment, not mine. At least I've learned that a spanking isn't just a spanking. And although it wasn't much fun, there's no denying that it has gotten my cunt back to tingling like mad. So. There.

***

This time there's no slow exploring of her holes. They fuck the girl hard, they fuck her rough and they fuck her fast, the French guy's balls slapping into her chin, the other guy's thighs slamming into her buttocks, evoking a pained grunt every time the bruised flesh of her ass is being hit. She had wanted to be fucked and used, and that's exactly what they do: Use her body for their pleasure, without giving too much of a damn how she fares. However, since the girl very much enjoys to be used like this, she still cums one time before they're done with her.

When both have filled her with their cum, relentlessly fucking her as they shoot their jism inside her holes, and wiped their dicks on her they once more leave her alone. Like last time, she doesn't move, just lets her head hang again when the silent guy releases his grip on her hair. He pulls up his trousers, leaves and comes back a couple of minutes later, carrying two beers and a can of coke, along with a chocolate bar. The two men sit down on the bed, sip from their beers, silently watching the girl in front of them. She remains motionless, except for her chest rising and falling with every breath. Her hair hangs sweaty and disheveled around her face, her ass is still a bright red, her stockings are soiled with sperm and her juices, but she seems to be relaxed, at ease with herself.

The French guy empties his beer, walks to her and squeezes some ointment on her ass which he tenderly rubs on her buttocks and between her legs, teasing her cunt for a couple of minutes, until she's moaning and dripping wet again. Then he stands back to admire her ass and pussy, noticing that she raises her butt when she feels him standing behind her, but this time he doesn't take her up on the offer and instead stands beside her and crouches down.

"T'as été fantastique, chérie," he whispers in her ear, then he gently lifts her head and turns it, planting a long kiss on her red lips before he lets go of her, waves to the silent guy and quietly leaves.

Another ten minutes pass, with neither of the two moving or speaking. The guy looks and admires the naked girl, she keeps her position, determined to do so until she's told otherwise. In the end, he gets up and walks to her, helps her up to an upright position and unties her hands, leaving the silk cloth tied around her neck. Then he guides her off the chair, sits down himself, looks up at her lithe body, tired yet still erect and proud and pulls her down to sit on his lap.

***

OK, so I guess I should have known. I probably should have known that I wasn't just serving two guys I've never met. Maybe I should have felt that it was him. Maybe I should have tasted that it was him, or maybe I should have guessed by the fact that he never uttered a word.

But I didn't. Not for a second. I had assumed he was in California and wouldn't return for another couple of days, so I have never even pondered the possibility. Hence when he unties the blindfold and I look up at my Master I'm completely taken aback for a second. And then a hundred different emotions leave me dumbfounded, but not dumbfounded enough not to open my lips and welcome his tongue in my mouth when he bents down to kiss me. Not dumbfounded enough not to notice how warm and reassuring and intimate his hands feel on my back and in my hair. And not dumbfounded enough not to know that all is good now. And then all those emotions shrink away and all that's left is love.

But when he breaks the kiss, after about a million years which felt like a second I have a thousand questions.

***

"Who ... what ...?" the girl asks, happy but also clearly confused about a lot of things, having no idea where to start and what to ask first.

"Shhh, babe," he hushes her. "Not now. Relax." But he can see in her eyes that there's at least one thing she needs to know right now, one question he has to answer for she won't be able to relax before she knows and so eventually he nods his head, signaling her to go on and ask her question.

"Master? Have I done the right thing?" she asks with trembling lips and a quivering voice.

"Have you? What do you think?"

"I don't know, Master. I think I did the right thing to the best of my knowledge."

"But you're not sure?"

She thinks for a minute, her eyes never leaving his, hoping to find an answer in those eyes but finding none. What she sees, though, is his love for her, and she knows that even if she's done the wrong thing, his love would still be there. "No, Master. I'm not sure."

His hands caress her back, the right one between her shoulder blades, the left one further down on the small of her back, the places where he knows she likes to be held, her body relaxing beneath his touch.

Eventually she speaks again, her voice a low whisper. "But I know that I have done my best, Master."

There's a sparkle in his eyes as he pulls her closer for another long and passionate kiss. "Then you have made me very proud, babe."

The End