Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
My friends T and F built a two story playhouse outside of the tiny North Carolina town of O. Nothing fancy, but it has a bar, pool table, dance floor, dj booth, private rooms, and second-story screened porch overlooking a pool and Jacuzzi. T&F throw parties there twice a month. Private parties. Invitation-only parties. Anything-goes parties. Anywhere from 50 to 100 typically attend.
H and I received our invitation in a discreet email that said simply, “Toga Party” and listed the date and time. It occurred on no particular Saturday night last summer. H showed me the email and melted my insides when he said, “You will go as my slave.” H fashioned himself a standard bed sheet toga according to some instructions on You Tube, then dedicated his spare time to my costume, a Roman slave tunic designed to barely cover my 5’4″, 118lb frame.
H found the thinnest T-shirt available, cut out the seams at the shoulders and sides, and scissored away sleeves, collar and hem. He riveted grommets to the sides and shoulders. H threaded leather cords through the grommets from neck to hem, leaving a gap that varied 3 to 6 inches. The laces extended just down to my hips, leaving two loose flaps of fabric to cover my tail and femininity. H tied a bow knot on each lace and attached silver beads to the loose ends to dangle and sparkle and beg to be tugged. The hem of my tunic barely reached my upper thighs.
H crafted a collar from the remaining leather cord with wooden letter beads that spelled out “GIRL” across my throat. He found a matching pair of brown leather high-heeled sandals and an ankle bracelet of tiny bells that jingled softly with every step.
Raw, revealing, and Roman, when we dressed for the party, H pulled the laces tight so that the tiny costume stretched and clung to my naked body. He kept his promise that I would be allowed a long cape over my costume only for the trip over. I would have to surrender it the moment we stepped inside. Even wrapped in the cape, the air danced on my bare skin during the car ride. I closed my eyes and considered how I had been prepared a day earlier.
H tied me naked to the bed on all fours. He positioned me with my chest draped over the footboard. He covered it with folded comforters to serve as padding. He fastened my wrists to the bedposts near the floor. He tied ropes around my legs at the knee and fastened them to the bedposts level with the mattress, pulling them tight, forcing my legs apart, exposing my ass and pussy from behind.
Once so secured, H retrieved my favorite vibrator and wooden paddle from our toy box and proceeded to stoke my pussy with the softly humming phallus and to alternately sting my ass with the paddle. He expertly timed the exchange of tools, bringing my orgasm to the brink with one, then forcing it back down with the other. After so conditioning me for a half hour, H began an interrogation, a technique he used to help me reconnect with my sexuality years earlier, which he now occasionally repeats because he grew to enjoy it.
“Tell me how you like your costume Slave Girl!” he demanded, the paddle finding the warm burn of my ass with a sharp smack.
“I like it Master! I like it a lot!” I gasped.
“What do you like about it slave? The truth!” He commanded.
“I like that I’m so exposed Master. I like being exposed in your presence, unable to hide how I respond to you.” I admitted.
“What else Slave?”
“Oh Master, I want to… I want you to take the costume away from me… in front of others. I want to be naked by your side.” I gasped. He rewarded my confession with a long moment of soft massage with the vibrator, a wave of pleasure just cresting when he withdrew it and continued to question me.
“What else have you been thinking about for tomorrow night Slave? What other scenarios have you imagined?” He knew I had been thinking about it. He knew the costume try-ons would set off my imagination, and they had. I had fantasized about being at the party, masturbated thinking about it. Now he was after the information he knew would be there.”
“Master, I uh…” I hesitated.
The paddle found my sore tail with a sharp smack that made me grimace even as the vibrator delivered its distracting relief. “You masturbated didn’t you! Now tell me what you thought bahis firmaları about!” he demanded again.
“Oh Master, I did. I did. I imagined walking around T & F’s place and I’m wearing the costume, or maybe by then you have made me take it off. A young guy comes up strikes up a conversation with you and compliments my body. Then…” I hesitated again. Thwack, the paddle landed squarely on my ass again as an involuntary “Ohhh!” escaped my lips. “He asks your permission to eat my pussy Master.”
“Yes, continue” he said.
“You force me to lie back in a chair in a room full of people and he gets down on his knees and licks my pussy.” I moaned at the thought and in response to the vibrations now pulsing in my pussy. “…and you and everyone watch me come over and over again.” I admitted tearfully.
His hand then rubbed and soothed my sore bottom as he applied the vibrator in just the right spot. “Good girl. That was what I wanted to know. Don’t you feel better now?” his deep voice cooing in my ear.
“Yes Master. Oh yes.” I involuntarily ground myself into the vibrator and he turned up the speed and rubbed it perfectly over my clit. “Oh Master, that feels so good… Oh Master, that is so nice… I do want to be naked Master. I do want you to strip me in front of everyone. Oh, please let me come! Please let me come Master!. Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!” I cried, coming hard in response to his skillful play.
I opened my eyes when we arrived at T&F’s, feeling myself moist from the memory of the previous day. We got out of the car and walked through the warm humid evening air toward the door to T&F’s play house. We entered, and as promised, H drew the cape from my shoulders as the door closed behind me. The cool indoor air brought my nipples to full attention, a fact which the sheer fabric slave tunic made no secret. I instinctively folded my arms. H said firmly, “Arms down Chel” as we started toward the bar, my ankle bracelet announcing each stride. A toga is a loose fitting wrap that barely clings to one’s body. Wearing one in public creates a sexual charge underlying every event at a Toga Party. Lots of couples picked up on the Roman Master/Slave theme. As thin and open as my tunic was, mine was not the most revealing. Two girls went topless and everyone was showing some skin. I relaxed and we mingled.
H loves to dance with me, and we moved toward the dance floor early in the evening. I enjoyed dancing in the tiny tunic, H twirling me and turning me provocatively.
I also enjoyed watching others. My favorite was a delightful girl wearing a classic long tunic that was entirely too loose fitting to stay in place. It was essentially two slender rectangles of fabric attached at the shoulders with leather straps, and tied with a sash at her waist. Even her slightest movements caused the tunic to shift and fall open and leave her exposed. She was cute, with brown hair and eyes. Slender and young, she was clearly excited to be wearing nothing underneath her tunic. She constantly fought to keep the fabric over her breasts and pussy. Spending every second battling the wayward costume, she had no time to look up and notice the number of people staring at her, waiting to see it fall open.
Her Master ignored her awkward plight. I heard him say “I think we’ll dance” and my heart leaped. There was no way she could keep her costume in place. I watched her every move, her graceful barefoot stride to the dance floor, the beauty of her poised neck as she looked up at her Master begging with her eyes that he change his mind. The look on his face said she would receive no mercy. He told her to dance. She obeyed. Her tunic instantly fell from her body and swung freely. I had to catch my breath. Her Master slid his fingers under the shoulder straps and released them, letting the cloth drop to the floor. There she stood totally naked, no jewelry or tattoos, clean shaven and beautiful.
At that moment, H grasped the silver beaded end of the bow tied at my shoulder and gave it a gentle tug. I thought he might untie it and let it fall off of me. But he was teasing, letting me know that he saw me watching the beautiful naked girl and that the evening would not end until I was likewise exposed.
For most of the evening we danced and drank, my scant costume drawing kaçak iddaa compliments and approving looks, as well as the occasional “accidental” brush of a hand. H sent me to the bar whenever he needed a refill. He loves to force me to walk scantily clad through a crowd. He knows what it does to me.
T and F’s place has a pool table by the front door. Coming back in from a break, we noticed several couples playing. A toga clad guy attempted to bank the eight ball to win, but scratched. H commented, “Almost! That shot was your best shot!” I looked around the room as the two of them got to talking. Before I knew it, H placed a bet with this guy. Each would take turns trying the bank shot again. The first to sink it could pick which of the two women, me or this guy’s girl, would strip. Right there in the well lighted game room with everyone watching.
H let the other guy shoot first and he scratched again! I breathed a premature sigh of relief watching H eye the other girl. She rose from her chair expecting, as did I, that she would now have to remove her clothes in front of everyone. I noticed the entry points to the game room were starting to fill with onlookers who overheard enough to know someone was about to be sans clothes. H eyed the other guy’s girl for a moment before he turned and looked at me. “Lose the tunic!” he said with a smile.
A collective roar of laughter filled the room. I was stunned. H. looked at me implacably. As the realization set in, I felt a twinge of excitement. But I tried to keep the look of surprise on my face and hide the fact that my femininity now throbbed at the thought of what he was telling me to do. I crossed my arms over my breasts and felt myself nervously shirt from side to side. “Why me?” I argued. “You won! I think she should be the one to do it!”
H just held out his hand. The room grew quiet. I lowered my arms in front of my torso, took the hem in each hand, and pulled it up and off, placing the cloth into H’s outstretched hand. There were several subdued expressions of approval from the room. My nipples instantly rose hard and excited, telling everyone I was excited. I was totally naked save for the slave collar and heels. H tossed the tiny tunic over his shoulder and lingered long enough for everyone in the well-lighted game room to get a good look at me before we started back for the dance floor.
Instead of heading directly up a stair case to the second floor, H made me walk ahead of him down the corridors of the first floor, passing a number of interested lookers. We went out the back door and stood on a small wooden deck. H stopped and wordless began to caress my swollen nether lips, his soft touch lighting me on fire.
Then he turned to walked up a single flight of wooden stops that ascended to a screen porch off of the back of the second floor. Moving slow and careful in my heels, I could hear the din of voices on the porch above. They were hearing my footsteps, but would not be able to see me until I reached the landing. First they would see my head. With each step, I would come into view, my breasts, then my pussy, finally the little jingling ankle bracelet that communicated my submissive role for the evening. Step by step, up I went into full view.
Conversations lulled a bit as I stepped into the landing then opened the door and walked onto the porch. About a dozen people sat in groups of two to four, at four picnic style tables. There was an opening between the tables to allow passage from the screen door to the back door of the house. Walking through brought me right past J and K. I noticed with some relief that K’s tunic was off one shoulder, baring her breast. H motioned for me to sit next to her.
Many drinks and hours of being on display, and now sitting totally naked in front of her, my insides turned to butter. I burned with desire. Alcohol and sex-charged endorphins coursed through my bloodstream. The atmosphere became surreal. I slurred away at K for just a minute or two, droopy eyed and smiling, before I simply leaned over and started sucking her bare breast. I pushed her top down alternately sucked both of her breasts. My mouth devoured her hard nipples as my hands squeezed and caressed them. I sucked, nipped, licked, and flicked them with the tip of my tongue.
Right kaçak bahis next to us, J and H continued to talk as they watched. K soon flushed with desire and pushed me back to returned the favor. My hard nipples begged for the attention and K’s sucking and licking provided all they needed. A flush of dizzy desire filled me even as H lifted me to my feet and turned my naked form for J to inspect. “She has a cute body”, J remarked. “Do you think I could get a taste?”
My mind raced. Was he asking to taste me? J was young and cute, well dressed and polite. He was asking H if he could taste me. This was EXACTLY what I had fantasized about the day before. I looked at H. Had he arranged this? I stood completely naked in front of a dozen or more people and shifted nervously, trying to contain the waves of desire now coursing through me. All ears now hung on every syllable, listening to see where this was all leading. I wanted to drop to my knees and nuzzle them both and beg them, yes, yes, please let him lick me, let him suck me, let everyone watch. My heart pounding, I nudged the conversation forward by looking at J and motioning my head toward H. “It’s up to him.”
Even the implacable H was still doing a double take. He did not appear to have arranged this. J noticed H’s quizzical expression and repeated his request. “Do you think I could get a taste?”
I felt my pussy pulse with desire and fill with moisture when H said, “I think that would be alright.”
Motion erupted around me. K helped move the bench to the middle of the porch. One gorgeous brunette, tall and strong, sat down on it and patted the end of the bench in front of her saying, “I’ll support her!” Someone placed some clean towels on the end of the bench. I sat on them and leaned back against the brunette. She encircled me comfortably in her arms. H positioned me on the bench so that my legs were apart and I reclined enough to suspend my bare pussy just over the end of the bench.
I watched J drop to his knees in front of me. He leaned forward and gently cradled my thighs in each arm. I heard people shifting benches and tables to get a better view. H stood behind J watching over me. I felt J’s breath on my pussy as he moved his mouth closer, felt his mouth find me, his hot tongue begin to part my burning lips. His tongue found my clit and he began a slow up and down sucking and licking. Everyone watched me intently. I tried a little, but I could not hold back and my first long moan of pleasure broke the silence.
The brunette holding me took my hard nipples between her thumb and index finger, slowly squeezing and kneading them, pinching and twirling, pulling and twirling. “Oh thank you I heard myself whimper to her. She kissed me passionately and I returned the fervor wiggling my tongue deeply and furiously in her sweet mouth. All the while, J worked his magic on my burning pussy.
My chest rose and fell as I panted breathlessly, naked and exposed, the center of so much attention. I reached a point of complete abandon. I took J’s head in my hands and pulled him into my famished pussy, pumping just enough to move my swollen clit in counter-rhythm to the flicking of his tongue. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes, I moaned. I pressed my hips into his face, grinding my hot nether region into his delicious mouth. Speaking to everyone there I said, “Oh lovers. Oh lovers. Oh, that’s so good. That’s so good!” My moans and cries of pleasure grew louder. Naked and exposed in front of everyone, writhing in pleasure as they watched me, my hot pussy writhing and quivering in response to J’s burning tongue. Waves of sheer ecstasy washed over me. I exploded in his mouth with a long “Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh” feeling my pussy gush as I came and came and came.
Finally I was spent and satisfied, breathing hard, trying to recover. My legs were wobbly when I stood. H and several others supported me. H held me in his lap and wrapped his loving arms around me. T appeared on the landing and said some neighbors had called to complain about the noise of a woman in the back yard. He asked if we heard anything. A few people chuckled. H and I said nothing. To this day H has not returned the tunic. I remained naked and for one last slow dance with H, for the walk to our car, and for the drive home. I sprawled across the car seat and nestled my head in H’s lap, taking out his cock and sucking and licking him sweetly during the long drive home, using my mouth and tongue as skillfully as I could, thanking him for amazing pleasure I experienced.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32