Please note
that the following fiction is intended for ADULT ONLY entertainment. Do not
read further if you are easily offended, or your local community codes do not
permit such suggestive material.
This fiction is intended for your use only. Any further dissemination of it must first require the author’s permission.
Thank you.
Faibhar
FOUR STARS’
“You don’ mind, li’lady, we thenk you fer yer list of “daily specials” an’ all, but this bein’ a special occasion, you think we could order sumthin,” ’he guzzled some more bourbon, “off the menu”?
Hmm? Purrrty please?”
Perfect. Out-of-town hillbillies. PLUS ordering off the menu! She’d pay plenty with the kitchen, but her’s was not to say. The customer was always right and maybe, just maybe, there’d be a big tip in it for her. Dillan said to, the sandy-haired man with the toothy grin, “Of course sir. And what did you have in mind?” His partner had her hand under the table doing gawd knows what. Phillipe’s devices were making her squirm even more. Her nipples, she knew, were poking like she had pencil erasures under her shirt and their appearance sure didn’t help the situation. The man’s companion spoke for the first time At least she didn’t sound like she was from the sticks. The woman looked over the rim of her cocktail glass, smiled sweetly and murmured, “We would like to order you, my dear.”
“Excuse me???!” Another vibrating jolt hit, but forgotten for the moment. She glared down at the other woman. She was pretty, maybe five years older, but really! Dillan could not believe her ears. She’d had her share of passes, but this one threw her. “If I heard you correctly, I think you better speak to my manager right now!” Dillan stomped away in Phillipe’s direction.
The restaurateur wrinkled the luxurious tan of his handsome forehead. What his slave had told him, and now what this patron was saying was most disturbing. Asking him for that “tall blond over there” and saying that the girl did not just come to his table, she “CUM” at his table. Seated at their corner booth with the on-any-other-day attractive redhead between them, Phillipe said to the man, “But, this is not possible. Much as I would like to accommodate you two…
“Y’all see, we be jest here fer the weekend. Sort of a celebration, kind of…”
“That is great, but…”
“An’ back home, we’re what they call dem “swingers””.
Phillipe nodded his gelled head vigorously and said, “That is just great, but, you see, this is not that kind of place. And besides, the woman you refer to is… with me.”
For the first time the patron sitting next to him obviously appraised him and said, “What then would it take”, her green eyes sparkled their approval, “for both of you?”
Phillipe shook his head and made to leave. The other man, the one who introduced himself as “Bob”, reached into his jacket and removed some bills which he fanned out over the tablecloth. “How’s ten Benjamins sound?” He paused and produced some more. “Fifthteen?” He looked at the redhead and said, “Whattaya think darlin’?” She discreetly smiled. With a shrug he reached into his jacket once more and said, “Frenchy, you an’ dat blonde better be ahhhsum. Here’s mah final offer. Twennie big ones!”
Phillipe stared down at the two-thousand dollar green fan spread across the cloth, made up his mind and slowly gathered up the bills. Looking back up at the man he said, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
“D, my office now.”
Her fingers left the light dimmer and she turned to see Phillipe enter through the front door of the upscale restaurant. Over his broad shoulder he carried his tux from the dry cleaners. Dillan left the dimmer, first glancing at the door behind which she knew the rest of the staff ate their communal meal. Let them make their catty comments. Hardly could they know the real truth – she was actually Phillipe’s collared mas slave and that she willingly allowed him to do almost whatever he wanted to do to her.
His office was grand; one befitting not just a manager’s, but the owner he also was. Phillipe tossed his freshl clothes and went passed paneled walls to open the door of a built-in, half refrigerator. “These are to be yours, D.” The floral bouquet of scarlet roses Phillipe were beautiful. Dillan clasped her hands to her chest as her heart pounded faster and tears of joy welled. “But not, of course, until the end of your shift tonight. I have two other things for you, but first prepare yourself and help me dress.”
Speechless, Dillan rushed to the vanity. She removed all traces of makeup. Fleetingly inspecting her own reflection in the mirror, Dillan tussled the highlighted curls that reached just down to her shoulders and ran back to where Phillipe was slipping on the white formal shirt over his bare chest.
“Here, D, give me your wrists. I will help you get started.” Dillan turned around and held out her wrists to be manacled. Turning back, she saw Phillipe fold and align the button holes on one of his French cuffs, snapping the cufflink open. “See? All you now have to do are the studs.” Dillan used her lips to capture stud from off of the dresser. Using her lips and teeth, she fitted the metal into the fabric. She eagerly did the same with the other.
“The studs might present a bit of difficulty, but I am sure that you are up to the challenge,” Phillipe said as he sipped from a Martini glass and watched as his slave use her lips to pick up another of the studs from the dresser. Her dirty blond hair accented her fair skin. His pride in her evident. It had not been that long ago since she first became his slave, impressing even his jaded instincts with her inherent kinkiness.
Pressing her head against his chest, she felt his body’s heat. Intent on her immediate task, she could not let animal attraction distract. Starch closed the button hole making it even harder to slip the base through, but eventually it slid in. The soft links binding her wrists would leave no marks, but she twisted her arms, nonetheless, as having them pinned behind her made her job that much harder. The stud slipped in easy at first, but then fell. It thudded on the carpet.
Phillipe frowned and said, “Too bad, slave. You must now be punished. Bend forward and lay the top of you on my desk. Lift your skirt.”
“Yes Master.” Dillan did as told, tiny beads of perspiration peppered the top of her lip. The metal desk felt cold as her top lay on it. Her fingers found the hem of her skirt and she lifted it, exposing the backs of her thighs.
Phillipe set down the glass and gazed at the beauty of his slave. He dialed up the volume of a classical CD. Selecting a thin cane, he swung it down across the naked thighs. His slave jerked as it struck with a pronounced “TWAK!”
“Now try again, D.”
“Yes Master.” Dillan knelt on both knees. The onyx stud was easy to spot on the oatmeal-colored carpet. She stood up and tried again. She tried to ignore the stripe burning across her legs. The tiny stud slipped in and held. She groped for the final stud.
Phillipe’s tuxedo shirt held together perfectly. As a final measure, she knelt once more, this time facing his opened fly. The cock she wanted to suck hard and the balls she wanted to adore were so close. But all of that would have to wait until later. Her teeth gripped the zipper tab and raised it up.
“Very good slave. You have done well. Now stand.”. Socks and shoes he had done before and as he looked into a mirror to tie his own tie gelled black glistened around the tanned handsome face of a thirty year-old, though he did look much younger. He saw his slave standing behind him. “Remove your thong. You’ll be free-bunning tonight with the exception, that is, for these.”
He turned back to face her holding two black cylindrical probes, one smaller than the other, each with a tiny antenna sticking out of one end. “These,” he said holding aloft the objects, “are receivers that vibrate on command. MY command.”
Dillan nodded and stared at the phallic-shaped devices and noted that the largest had a small padded lever extending out from the end opposite of the antenna. “Yes Master”. Without waiting to be told, she lay back on his desk, this time, on her back. She watched as Phillipe applied a thin coat of oil to each. He then lifted up her skirt, parted her legs and inserted both objects, slipping the one with the padded lever under her clitoral hood.
“You see, I have programmed the transmitter at my podium differently than the others. A square on my specially programmed screen reads “Hot”, he said and chuckled, “for your luscious ass. The other square reads “Loins” for your, uhm, sweet pussy. Throughout the night I’ll be able to manipulate you, making your ass hum, or pussy with the clit arm throb, or both at the same time!” He laughed at his ingenious design.
“Make absolutely sure neither of these slips out. What a predicament you will have then! And should you feel your cunt or ass enlarging and the vibrators slipping, quietly push them back in. Understand?”
Dillan nodded her head and said, “Yes Master.” Her face burned in shame and she could only guess how she would react once the vibrations hit. What would they think…?
To
be continued
Please note that the following fiction is intended for ADULT ONLY entertainment. Do not read further if you are easily offended, or your local community codes do not permit such suggestive material.
This fiction is intended for your use only. Any further dissemination of it must first require the author’s permission.
Thank you.
Faibhar
FOUR STARS’ Part 2
Rain beads tracked across the rear
cab window. Dillan sat next to Phillipe,
the vase of roses delicately perched in her lap. Her’s
was not to ask why they were headed in the opposite direction to his place, nor
why he remained formally dressed. They sped along city streets late at night until
reaching the brightly-lit entrance. Dillan recognized
the posh downtown hotel. First
the roses; now this. Phillipe was Master
Surprise..!
The elevator’s soft whine made the only noise as they ascended. At the 15th floor “ding” Phillipe put his hand behind her and guided her through the opening panel. The lovely flowers jiggled slightly. She didn’t mind free-bunning; she just wished she had worn something more dressier than her work clothes. Green geometric patterns on the black carpet and flock walls of the corridor hushed their steps. At room 310, they stopped. On his second knock the door opened.
Dillan’s jaw dropped. Grinning back at her awaited the woman from the restaurant. Phillipe’s hand between her shoulder blades urged her forward. “Those are lovely”, the woman said in a voice too familiar to Dillan, “but not nearly as lovely as you two.” Dillan looked at Phillipe and instead of answering her look she saw that he was smiling back at the other woman. Lying across the huge four poster bed spread her husband.
“Well good tah see y’all. Glad y’all could make it. Care fer a late night toddy?” “Bob” slid off the side of the sheets, got to his dark socks and waddled over to a wet bar. “This here suite’s got jest ‘bout everythin’, but then at da price we had to fork over it sure as heck bettah!”.
“A gin, please,” Phillipe said. Turning to Dillan for the first time since entering the room he said, “And she will have tequila. Neat.”
“Care for ah lime wit dat? We got dem too. Meanwhile, you ken show us part of wha two grand buys dese days.” He fixed the drinks. Phillipe took the flower-filled vase from Dillan’s hands and placed it on a dresser.
“Slave I want you to remove your clothes.” He wasn’t kidding. Slowly bending down, she unlaced one shoe and then the other. Kicking them off, Dillan reached under her skirt for the lacy garter belt. “No,” Phillipe said in his commanding voice. “Leave your black stockings and belt for last.
The other two clustered closer to watch, drinks in hand. Dillan silently pleaded to the other woman, who returned her look with lust-filled eyes. No sisterhood there… Dillan’s fingers shook nervously as the tips gathered around the top button of her work shirt. She unbuttoned it and then all of the buttons until it parted.
Hurry it up slave”.
She removed the long-sleeved shirt.
Reaching behind, she unhooked the full bra and let it drop. Dillan’s
breasts swayed – the cup size too large for any demi.
They had yet to succumb to one of
Dillan rocked on the bed. The last she saw of her master was when the other woman named “Karen” grabbed him by his tuxedo bow tie and led him into another room of the suite. He seemed to go willingly, almost eagerly. She could only wonder what her beloved but so cruel Phillipe was now doing…
The stranger fucking her made pig-like noises as he quickly came. He rolled off, scratching himself on his way back to the wet bar. From the corner of her eye Dillan saw Phillipe and “Karen” appear from the other room. Bed hair and the hotel robes matched. “Frenchy tells me,” the voice said from in the direction of the bar, “dat yer some kinda “mas” slave, the kind dat likes pain…
Well git on up an’ show us jest wat y’all like.” Dillan turned her head over to face “Bob”’s hairy ass. She looked back at Phillipe as he walked closer, hand-in-hand with “Karen”.
“He came four times,” she said with a bragging purr.
“Fer starters, why don’ y’all roll off of dat comfy bed an’ lift yer wrists up ta dem tall posters at the foot of da bed. It wasn’t a question. Dillan complied, mildly shocked but hugely disappointed, as Phillipe spread her legs out so that each ankle touched the base of the carved staffs. Someone behind her tied her wrists up high. Below, rolled up towels secured her ankles. There was no “give” and she hung spread-eagled before the four.
“And he also showed me these,” the other woman said as she reached into a robe pocket and withdrew the two vibrators. “See, Honey? These are why she acted that way at our table.” she said and patted “Bob”’s bed hair. “Not because of your movie-star looks.” All three laughed. “Phillipe told me he could activate each of these from his station…Now that you have her so excited and all, let’s see if both of these fit in that juicy cunt.”
Dillan gasped in pain as the two objects invaded. “Karen” looked up into Dillan’s watery eyes and said, “Bet what Phillipe didn’t tell you was, he had a handheld transmitter for both of these just in case you went out of range. A nasty little master, indeed!” She playfully slapped Phillipe’s shoulder and produced a tiny black rectangle. She pushed the green button.
Dillan jerked as both vibrators erupted. The restraints held. Dillan’s super sensitive clit rang electric. The light-brown ridge of curls dividing her bikini-waxed lips became the epicenter of what quaked her entire body. Blond curls framing a frustrated face shook. Muscles bunched under slick skin. Someone in the room turned up the volume of the stereo. Dillan saw ceiling speakers above her. Someone else stuffed a rolled towel into her mouth. She tried to eject it but a belt held the towel in place.
“Will ya jest look at dat. Looks like da slut is set ta cum agin!”
To be continued…
Please note that the following fiction is intended for ADULT ONLY entertainment. Do not read further if you are easily offended, or your local community codes do not permit such suggestive material.
This fiction is intended for your use only. Any further dissemination of it must first require the author’s permission.
Thank you.
Faibhar
FOUR STARS’ Part 3
Manicured nails sunk into steady moving hips. “Oh she’s having entirely too much fun for what she’s supposed to be,” said “Karen”. “Let’s remove these…” She bent and pulled free from Dillan the large and small vibrators. Dillan sighed. It felt so much better; though she wished her hands and feet weren’t tied so tight.
“There. Be still my slave. I have an idea! “Darling”, where did you put those lovely flowers?”
Phillipe’s new nickname she gave him was not lost on Dillan. She saw her master turn in his robe to the dresser where he had left the vase.
“Over here, my “Sweet””.
So HE had a nickname for HER, as well. Dillan knew immediately petty jealousy was not going to help. Besides, how many times had Phillipe referred to her as “slave”, or even worse?
“Now, I have an idea you boys just might want to follow…” Like the others, Dillan’s eyes were attracted to the woman as she plucked one blossoming bud off of the stem and peeled off a petal. She slowly licked it with her tongue and then applied it to Dillan’s right front shoulder. Dillan tried not to retch as she felt the slimy petal adhere to her skin.
Rapidly, the others followed suit and Dillan’s nude form was almost completely covered in red petals. Some stuck more than others. Little remained in the glass vase accept for bare stems.
“Too, too bad. Phillipe, you must have a word with your florist! Why, these stems still have thorns on them!” “Karen” proclaimed. Her fingers escaped the pointed thorns. Lifting up one of the stems, she inspected it as water dripped off one end. She then turned back to face Dillan and said, “Let’s see how our little pain slave likes these…”
Bits of roses fell as “Karen” slowly grazed the thorny twig along the underside of Dillan’s left breast. It moved with the stem. Dillan squeezed her eyelids shut. The response only seemed to focus the scratching sensation more. “Oh, such a pity… some of the petals are dropping.”
“Dat dere’s sum idea you got!” said “Bob” who had picked up a stem himself and was tracing it between Dillan’s inner thigh. “Wat y’all think will happin’ if we swung dese things real hard?”
“Gosh, I really don’t know. Shall we find out?”
“Bob” and “Karen” whacked the thorny stems hard against Dillan. More petals fell. Phillipe grabbed his own stem and swung. Dillan shook the bedposts. Red lines criss-crossed her front and back. Soon the three were trying to avoid each other as they swung with all of their might.
When a stem snapped, it was replaced by a fresh one. Tears seeped from under Dillan’s shut eyelids…
The Rohypnol in her drink worked. Dillan awoke the next morning alone. She didn’t have any idea how she got to where she was; with no clothes in a king-sized bed in some hotel suite. Her head pounded like a bass drum, every beat a spike. The sheets upon which she lay were a mess. Numerous scratches marked all of her.
A sound in the corridor came through the door muffled, “Room service”. Dillan jumped to her feet and ran to the nearest closet-to discover it empty! She frantically tore into the bathroom. No robes, not even towels! A scared glance into the mirror reflected a scratched and harried nude-her! “Cleaning…Room Service,” said the same muffled voice. Dillan raced to the peephole set into the suite’s door and looked out. She saw a service cart parked outside of the open room next to the one she was in. In any moment she would be discovered. What could she say??!
Dillan turned away from the tiny peephole, panting as she leaned with her back against the door. For the first time she noticed that she was sweating. Sweat from the panic of not knowing what happened and sweat from being discovered in such a sorry state.
She heard a card slip in and unlock the door. Next to her hip, the door knob turned. Pressing her body against the door could not keep it from opening…
“Hurry, slave. Wear this,” Phillipe said as he held out an overcoat. Weeping tears of gratitude, Dillan, kissed Phillipe and slipped into the coat. It was a man’s size and the wool hurt, but she didn’t care. Her master had come to the rescue. The two hurried past the cart and down the hallway to the elevators.
When asked, no one would ever answer why, “Four Stars?”.
The End
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