Little Black Dress

Final

“It’s your choice now, Pet. There will be few choices for you after this. After tonight.” Her words swept over me like a wave of pleasure, each syllable somehow timed to the strum of Pony’s tongue over my clit. Mistress Taylor’s words the melody, Pony’s tongue the harmony. I was the song they played.

Boots clicked on the tile as we moved down the hallway - Pony’s boots next to my ear, her hands holding the leather cord that was drawn taut around my throat. Mistress Taylor was somewhere ahead in the darkness, the scent of her perfume and her pussy lingering in the air around me. Or was I just remembering what it was like to be so close to her, yet not touch her. So close, but my hands bound above my head, pulled back cruelly with that same leather cord and painfully rubbing against my clit as she teased me. Her fingers lingering on my clit just long enough to leave me panting, then her tongue invading my ready mouth. I opened for her, hoping she would take more, stand up, press her glistening pussy against my lips and order me to make her cum. I wouldn’t have needed the words, just the opportunity. I would have worshiped anything she gave me.

I whimpered, hearing the sounds of my own need against the boot clicks nearby, a melody of a different kind. This one was of my own making, my own choice. The darkness surrounded me, the mask around my eyes leaving me sightless as I crawled forward on the tiles, naked and ready. Surrender. It’s what I had chosen. What was at the end of the hallway was a mystery, and it would stay a mystery until the blindfold was removed. There were rules now, rules Mistress Taylor had laid down with conviction, that I’d agreed to, that I understood and wanted.

“No more decisions for you now, Pet. All your decisions will be made by someone else. Obey or disobey. This is all that is left to you. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mistress.” The words fell out of my mouth as if they’d been waiting forever to be said. “I will obey. I’m ready to surrender.”

The air changed, cooler as we went on. I felt my nipples harden, sparking the throbbing of my clit. I felt my pussy clenching, opening, searching for her fingers, Sir’s cock, whatever would fill the emptiness that threatened to overwhelm me. If only Pony would reach down, just graze my clit with her fingers, invade my pussy with her tongue. I wanted to say something, to whisper a plea, to offer her my mouth if she would only touch me once. But I knew better. Seeing her squatting, naked except for the boots, the sweat pouring off her body from the stress of the position and what Mistress Taylor had whispered to me that made me want to cry, to beg, to cum. To be denied.

“See my pretty little Pony? How she suffers for me? What you don’t know is that my dearest little darling hasn’t cum in so long. I doubt she can remember what it feels like.” She stroked my clit again, driving me into another breathless mix of agony and pleasure, then stopped and I moaned into the gag. Anything. Anything for you if you let me cum, I wanted to say, to cry out, to beg in sobbing tones, whatever would please her. And yet… “I’m not sure if she even knows how long it’s been, Pet. But I do.” Then she pulled her fingers away, and I knew.

I heard the creak of doors, a wave of cool air, the first murmurs of voices over the crack of Pony’s heels. With my eyes hidden behind the folds of cloth, my other senses sought input. I listened for distinct words, faint laughter, hushed tones nearby as I crossed the threshold. The bare, cold tile was replaced by warm woods. The press of bodies, the shuffle of feet as the crowd parted. I inhaled the aroma of cigars and whiskey. The scent of perfumes mixing in the air. Leather. The smell of the fire, the sound of the wood crackling nearby. I was back in the main room, where we’d first started the night, where he’d driven me to the brink and then pushed me over the edge in front of everyone. How I’d laid there for everyone to see, cumming and moaning and begging and ready to give myself to him for whatever deep, dark desires he harbored.

And now we were back, Pony still leading me. A subtle tug here, leading me left. The cord going slack, her footfalls growing silent. We stopped and I felt the tug up, following her lead, rising to my feet, my hands going behind my back.

“Open, Pet.” Mistress Taylors words drifted across the room and my mouth opened, my legs spread, I pushed my breasts out. “Open and ready,” she’d told me in her chambers. “When you arrive in the room, the meal will be served.”

When the blindfold came off, I found myself naked at the head of a long empty table covered by a pristine white table cloth. Each place setting was marked by a small black box tied with a red ribbon and a glass of champagne, and as I stood there, open and waiting for the next command to fall from the mistress’ lips, the guests began to take their seats. I tried not to watch them, to keep my eyes down as Mistress Taylor had ordered, but I needed to see Sir, see his eyes and know what he saw. But before I could get my bearings and search more than a few faces, Pony moved around and pulled off the leash and Mistress Taylor’s voice was in my ear, her fingers sliding in from behind and invading my pussy.

I gasped, shivered, felt my pussy flood again. “Now, up on the table, Pet. There’s no dinner tonight. There’s just you on the menu.”

I shuddered again, my eyes up now, finding everyone’s eyes on me. Mistress Taylor’s fingers followed me up, pushing inside, stroking my pussy as I knelt there on all fours on the delicate white table cloth, naked and panting as she fucked me while everyone watched. I looked down, trying to hide, my breath coming quickly now, the need burning as brightly as my cheeks, but there was Mistress Taylor’s voice in my ear again.

“Up, Pet. Look up. Look them in the eye tonight. Do not look away. Look them in the eye while they feast on you. I want you to see them pleasuring themselves with your body. I want you to see them reveling in your torment, your ecstasy, your unabashed surrender to the will of the table. Look up, my darling,” she ordered, her voice soft, like the flower petals, but commanding nonetheless. “Look up and see your Sir. He’s at the far end of the table, and he’s waiting on you. But you must give everyone else their fill before you can be his again. Look them in the eye when they use you and let them know you are a slave.”

Her fingers were gone as quickly as her voice, and I teetered on the edge of cumming yet again, my entire body trembling. Before me, dozens of eyes feasted on me. Dozens of fingers tore at the little bows on the tiny black boxes. Fingers freed their prizes, hands swept up their champagne glasses, cheers and laughter and conversation filled the air. And just to my left and right, a pretty redhead black low-cut gown and a young black man in a black pin-striped suit beckoned.

I swallowed and moved forward, my first steps on the table, crawling across the white cloth while they drank me in. When I neared the redhead, she grinned and opened her box. Inside she found a little black leather collar, and she quickly stood up, pulled me around to her and fastened it around my neck. “Welcome,” she said, her smile reaching up into her eyes. Then she took a long draught of her champagne and pressed her lips to mine. I opened my mouth just as the champagne flowed from her lips and into my open mouth. I drank it down just as she drank me, pulling me in by my new collar just as I felt a tongue invade my pussy.

I moaned into the redhead’s mouth, seeking her tongue, the taste of the brute, the cold liquid spilling down my chin onto the table. I could feel my legs opening of their own accord behind me, the fingers of the man in the pin-striped suit on my ass, then his tongue finding my asshole. I shuddered and pushed my ass back against him, relaxing, opening, inviting him in. The redhead leaned in, her tongue canding with mine, her hands finding my breasts, my aching nipples, my body caught between them, open, ready, needing their touch, loving their power over me.

I would have done anything for them in that moment, drop to the floor and slide my tongue between her lips, taste her pussy, make her cum. I would have pressed my face to the floor, ass up, offering my holes for his cock, if he would only fuck me there on the floor in front of everyone, take me, use me, fill me with his cum and then push me on down the table to the next couple. I moaned as I imagined it, my eyes shut, pussy dripping. Whatever they want. I would own it, own my slavery, and show them, show myself - my body didn’t belong to me anymore.

When they’d had their fill, I crawled on. One by one, couple by couple, a long slow, neverending fuck. I gave myself to them all.

The next couple, two women, drank me, ate me, and then I felt a large plug go in, pushing past the pucker of my well-lubed ass. I grunted as it slipped into place, filling me as much as my pussy was empty, and then I was moving along, being pulled forward less by my collar and more by the wanton looks on the faces of the other diners, my own lust. They hungered for a taste of me, and I hungered for their appetite. More champagne, my mouth invaded by a young man’s tongue while he squeezed my breasts and clamped my nipples. Behind me the other gentleman played with my plug, ignoring my dripping, throbbing pussy. He tugged on the stainless steel tear drop until I was breathless. Then out it popped, replaced with a thick glass dildo. I grunted, dropping down to my elbows, my clamped nipples grazing the tablecloth as he fucked me.

Chair by chair, diner by diner, they fucked me, fingered me, tongued my pussy and asshole, filled my mouth with their hot breath, their champagne. My nipples were pulled and twisted until hot tears fell down my cheeks. I suffered the tug of heavy weights, offering my breasts to them for their torture, their pleasure. My head buzzed, my mouth opened. I swallowed their desires and fed my need. I sucked on the bottom lip of a pretty little blonde, then sucked on her nipples when she tugged her dress down and offered me her tits. Another man fucked my mouth with his fingers, pushing them deep. I imagined his cock pushing against the back of my throat while someone I couldn’t see invaded my pussy with a thick dildo. I imagined myself taking both their cocks while Sir watched. I wanted so badly to make them cum just then, my ass in the air for one while my mouth slid down the other.

And on and on, like an endless dance, one by one they all fucked me, leaving me dizzy, throbbing and more and more ready to offer them all myself for anything they wanted. If only they would tease my clit, promise an orgasm. Even if they never gave it to me, left me a broken mess on the floor of the cottage, I would have welcomed it, having given all of myself to them. Having surrendered.

Just then a pair of hands pulled me around. I struggled to focus, my head spinning, my entire being buzzing with pleasure and pain, throbbing with need. I opened my mouth instinctively, opened my legs for the inevitable invasion, ready to take the next finger, tongue, cock, whatever they offered. A warm pair of lips touched mine, the softest kiss pressing against my flesh. Then another and another, those lips dancing around my mouth in a way that felt so familiar. I opened my eyes, and Sir leaned back, a smile on his face.

“Good girl,” he said and pointed to the floor next to his chair. “Come along, Princess. Your place is here now.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Author Note: I remember now at the end here that I wasn’t sure how to wrap this story up. I’d gotten this far on just whim after whim. Let’s go here, go there. Let the story write itself, and then I got to the end, and I was wondering how to deliver the climax in a grand way. The thought of Princess crawling along the table and giving herself over to everyone’s lust, but not fucking, just the endless tease and letting each person have her as part of a meal, an appetizer, if you will. And then, as stories go, it announced that this was the end. So, there you have it. That’s what happened when she wore the Little Black Dress.

What’s next as far as serials go?

I was trying to decide. There’s one more part of Plot Twist yet to come (tomorrow or the next day), and I’ve been shirking on The River, which will be back next Friday. But as far as another serial that can start running, I have a few. What She Wanted is one I really like. And there’s Miss Taken, which like What She Wanted, just came out of nowhere. I think that’s what I like best about erotica, or writing short serials and short stories in general — that they come out of nowhere and just tell themselves. I just have to be present enough to write them down.

Here is a collection of images I had for this story because I had Midjourney to give me all the current ones: