La Soirée

(Disclaimer: written for a friend who insisted in VERY special things she wanted to read about. As usual get CONSENT, or go home)

This evening was special, so he said. He had friends coming over and asked you to be absolutely stunning.

+ He is an old friend from Paris + he explained while he was helping you to wash you in the bathtub + We both did some dumb things when we were young + He helped you to shave, to choose your parfume + His wife, oh, you will love her.

- But I don't speak French - you said while he helped you to make up

+It doesn't matter, you will charm them. There use that other lipstick.

- The dark red one?

+ That's no red, my dear. That's bordeaux + He picks some clothes from the wardrobe + Put these on. You shall be so classe.

---

His friend arrived on time, they embraced, and interchanged some words in French you cannot but guess they were some playful insults mixed in between. He was more pudgy and balding than your man,. He was also smaller and he couldn't stop moving his arms nervously and talking way too fast, but he got some kind of aura, of secret beneath, you imagine.

He came with his wife, who was also in the forties, but much better looking. There was some kind of aggressive feral scent on her beauty, the way she walked, the way she exuded confidence on herself. You could have sworn that the smile on her face when she greeted your man could have hidden a row of bare fangs to devour him in one bite.

You were there standing up, wearing some high quality black stockings and a transparent silky short négligé. Simplicity was class, he told you. High heels that made you feel having awesome legs, light make-up except for your darkened lips, sweet sandal and rose scent.

You wore a collar, a black leather band with a leash, it calmed you, you would be a nervous wreckball otherwise. You felt marvelous with yourself. None of them said anything to you, they just handed their coats that you promply picked up.
At that moment the woman looked at you directly into your eyes and your confidence on yourself shattered; you felt more naked than ever.

---

Your man cooked for hours, but at the end he produced only some little snacks, all beautiful as jewelry, they were disposed in a plate graciously. Apart from that there were only like fifteen different kinds of cheese varying from stinky to stinkier. You were sure he wished to give his friend something to remember their time together in France.

They were in the lounge, on the comfty armchairs, talking, mostly the two men while she just kept smiling at their animated chatting. You understood that the woman wasn't proficient in French for they were conversating in English.

You brought the food from the kitchen, walking graciously, and at that moment she looked at your way again, piercing your mind. She was measuring you with her sight. Your nipples tenderly hidden by the soft fabric immediately lost their puffiness and pointed out as a reaction. You almost lost your foot and you failed to spread all the food on the floor. She eyed you until you put the plate on the tea table.

~ Thank you ~ she said ~ Serve me some wine please ~ Each one of her words carried a compelling order.

¬ Yes, we brought an excellent Bordeaux, open the bottle for us! ¬ The guest had a thicker French accent than your man, but it wasn't deprived of his charm.

You eyed the bottle, it seemed aged, and the bottle opener. You never used one of them, but you have seen him opening bottles quite some times. You dig the curved opener on the cork, turning it ever deeper. Everyone was silent watching your efforts trying to pull unsuccessfully the cork out of the bottle; it was so stuck, and standing on your heels you simply couldn't put all the strenght into it. You feared to open it violently and spilling all the wine everywhere.

You finally pulled it out of the bottle, but the cork teared up and half of it was still inside. You could feel the disappointment in the room as a weighted stone.

+ Give me that, mademoiselle + Your man expertly pulled out the other half of the cork and gave you back the bottle to serve it.

You had to pour the wine first in a kind of big transparent vase and let it get some air before pouring it on the glasses, that you were taught and you felt happy to have remembered it. You could see their eyes boring into your body, measuring every curve, every mole, every wave of your hair

~ Hasn't she ever opened a bottle before?

+ No, she isn't much a wine drinker, she simply doesn't like it

¬ Nonsense! That is because you must have offered her some cheap piquette to drink, worthy only to be spitten out!

+ Do I have to remember you that it was I who taught you to drink expensive?

~ In any case, I shan't have wine served by someone who doesn't appreciate it. Girl ~ she addresses to you directly ~ The first glass off that bottle is for you.

You felt nervous again, but the woman wouldn't accept any no for an answer. You poured a glass of wine, and you drank it in front of them under their scrutiniy. You knew the theory, you are an educated, intelligent and fine lady: You looked at the colour of the wine, dark, turbulent; you smelled it, like some old wood bark, and carefully you sipped it, turning it inside your mouth before gulping it to appreciate all the flavours. It was so strong, so coarse, that your eyes watered and it burned from your throat to your stomach, heating your insides. You recovered yourself and poured the three other glasses, so the guests and your man enagaged in the same little ritual, but with smiles and delectacy at the end.

¬ So, girl, what do you think of the wine from my region? I can swear that this bottle is older than you are. Drink some more. A toast, a toast my friends.¬ And they three raised their glasses and so you had to.

---

The evening continued . You were asked to serve more wine while they enjoyed the food. You were hungry and you were only allowed to drink. The alcohol was affecting you with haste.

You suddenly noticed that the conversation turned more to sexual matters, old stories happened at Paris, things that were done, or those who were dreamt to be done. You felt how they were looking at you. The woman asked you to approach, she kissed and smelled your neck. Her hands wandered over your breasts, your stomach, in the inner side of your thighs, while the men kept talking, as if you two were not there. She liked to pull from the leash on your collar and kiss your lips.

~ I love this girls breasts ~She said while groping posesively one of them ~ Such precious lovely sensitive nipples ~ She pinched and twisted savagely one of them. A gasp of pain escaped from your lips. ~ Oh, that doesn't hurt that bad, pretty girl. Hold my wine, let's play a game.

You took her glass and stand in front of her. She took a crop from behind the armchair and put the leather tip on your nipple. You breath nervously and glance at your man, but he is buried in the conversation with his friend, talking in French again.

A sharp slashing hit on your nipple brings your mind to the reality. You open your mouth as screaming silently. You look at the woman who is grinning like a feline playing with her prey.

~ Do not spill a drop of the wine in the glass, sweetheart, that would displease us all.

More hits on your sensitive nipple until you feel it ablaze. Tears falling freely on your cheeks, and your whole concentration is on the glass you are holding with your hand.

+ I think she has done admirably, don't you think? + The voice of your man stopped the mistreating of your poor breast.

~ Oh, she has. Drink girl, the wine from my glass, you deserved it.

¬ I think she deserves another prize.

+ She must be hungry. She has been eyeing the hors d'oeuvres since I was preparing them .

~ Girl, come towards me and turn around.

She used the leash of your collar to tie up both your arms behind your back. Your breast felt swollen and aching, your nipple twice its size under the silky dress, stingy, throbbingly painful. Your head spinned from the alcohol and the empty stomach.

~ Girl, have this ~ and she dropped in front of you a strange spherical snack, glazed, like a chocolate , but you know for sure it's proper food and not a sweet. With your arms tighly tied behind you you are forced to kneel in front of the food and try to pick it with your mouth.

The blasted thing is slippery and you curse French cuisine. You can feel the sights of the guests looking at your exposed sex . It doesn't matter, your mind is fixed on that ball of juicy French delicacy.

You almost get it, and at that time, you feel the crop tip opening a way between the lips of your sex, you gasp and miss the snack.

~ Look, she is all excited! I didn't even have to push, the crop slipped inside with too much ease. Do you enjoy exposing your holes to my husband?

She keeps prodding your pussy with the crop, while you keep pushing the damn ball all around the room. Every time you are about to snatch it, she smacks hard between your butt cheeks, or your clitoris with the crop. You hate that thing. You scream and shout, unable to stand up. Your thigs burn, your pussy burns.

Next time it is yours, you pounce and fall opon it, you bite the ball and the savourous inside stuffing feels your mouth. You stand up victorious and look at your man, but he is lost talking to his friend, nobody has watched you claiming your prize; even the woman had got bored of hitting you and rejoined the two friends having chosen a bottle of white wine.

She approached the two men and whispered something you didn't understand, but all three of them laughted vividly, then looked at you with growing interest.

The man stand up and approached you. He had a nice man's face, a trustworthy smile. He was sharply shaved, not a single hair out of his hairstyle, and the nails on his hands were carefully clipped. He stood in front of you.

¬ Undress me, petite ¬ You looked at him puzzled, your arms were still tighly tied up behind your back ¬ Use your imagination.

You used your mouth to undo the buttons of his shirt. You had to bite and pull some of them but it doesn't seem to matter. You unbuckle his belt and unbutton his trousers. He helps you until he is completely naked in front of you. You look at your man but he is just talking with the wife with little interest of what is happening to you.

The man was completely shaved off, even his legs. He was smelling like lavander, fresh and clean. His penis was disappointingly small. You kissed around and started to suck him, playing with his sex with your tongue. He kept tenderly caressing your head, burrowing his fingers in your hair.

It didn't work. He was soft, no matter what you do, licking, sucking, slurping. He just kept stroking calmly your head with caring touches.

Suddenly you felt it going stiffy. You looked at your man and you noticed both him and the woman looking at you. She had her hand between her legs and another one on her breast. She was looking at you two with unconcealed lust.

You understood at that moment, she was the Alpha of that couple, she gets excited keeping her husband like a prized possession, and she gets off watching him having sex with other women; as for him, he gets aroused watching his wife getting excited.

¬ Now Darling? ¬ He asks. She keeps fondling her sex under her skirt passionately while she sucks at her own fingers. She nods vehemently.

You feel his penis growing up immensely inside your mouth. He was a hell of a grower. He suddenly tights her fist in your hair, pushing your head towards him until his sex makes it difficult for you to breath. He then slams his other fist hard into one of your eyes. A punch that makes you yelp and see stars.

A second punch falls upon your eye again. You try to not bite his penis off out of reflex. It is still hitting the back of your throat, you feel him shaking, trembling. You hear him moaning, you hear her moaning. A third punch, a fourth, you lose count, your face is numb with pain, unable to escape his grip and with your arms expertely tied up.

She cums loudly, and so does him just seconds after, filling your mouth with warm bubbly sperm (that later you would realize it was tasting of lavander too..). Everyone in the room is breathing heavily. Your eye is swelling up, you feel it ballooning and heavy, lost in a dull throbbing pain that covers your whole side of your face. You are coughing his sperm, you feel exhausted.

You see suddenly the woman in front of you, drunk with lust, watching at you like a wild feline eying her dinner. She unties you and brings you to the couch. She muttters no word, she touches your bruised face, with evident glee poking your swollen blackening eye. She caresses your body and burrows her face between your legs. Her expert lips and tongue start toying with your sex, making you moan and get lost in pleasure with ridiculous ease.

In the midst of your reverie you can just listen the two men talking again while heat inside you is being built up.

¬ She is fabulous. ¬ The guest whizzed ¬ Un jouet merveilleux .

+ Le meilleur de tous, mon ami, le meilleur de tous. Je suis un homme chanceux. Elle m'est très précieuse.

And they clink their glasses while they watch you having your first orgasm of the evening.