Little Black Dress

Part 7 of 9

I swallowed it all, gulping for air afterward as Sir’s cock hovered over me. I looked up, my eyes fixed on the gleaming head of his beautiful cock, a string of saliva trailing down to my open lips. I watched, transfixed, as the last drop of cum formed and dropped. Then my tongue darted out, caught it and pulled it in, my gaze finding Sir’s eyes, his smile, his lips forming the words “Good girl.”

Then he looked away as the conversation resumed, and I leaned up, pressing my lips to the head that had been thoroughly lodged in my throat when he came, when I felt the twitch, the spasm I’d come to know and seek, even beg for. I kissed his cock, pressing my lips along its length, thanking him for his gift. The rest of the party was a blur of motion and sound, smells and sensations, all of it happening as if in some far away place, a dream I alone wasn’t part of as I worshiped his thick shaft, unaware of how long I’d knelt there at the party on display for him. The only thing I knew was that it was for him, and I was his good girl.

I ran my tongue the length of his cock one last time, then took the handkerchief I’d been holding since we started, and began to gently clean him. He shuddered once or twice when I ran the monogrammed cotton square over the head of his cock, his eyes finding mine, smiling down at my tease, but it was only a moment before he was clean and I’d returned his cock to his pants and zipped him up. What was next was up to him, I knew, so I leaned back on my knees and put my hands behind my back again. My eyes flitted up to his face, following his protocols - eyes on him at all times. I’d always found this easy - to let the rest of the world go on without me while I focused on the man I’d given myself to.

What I didn’t expect was the sudden appearance of a woman at Sir’s shoulder, a woman who he turned to not only with a smile but an unexpected sense of respect. She spoke to him, her mouth close to his ear, and he nodded, gave a short bow and backed up, leaving the woman to step fully into view.

She towered over me, her face half in shadow, a platinum blonde in a simple silver slip dress, her eyes sparkling as much as the jewelry around her neck, the rock on her finger. When we locked eyes, I turned away, suddenly afraid, unsure, my gaze trailing down over her long, tanned legs. I could feel her stare. It burned into me like the stares of the men and women in the basement bar, but this time it was different. This time I wasn’t in the arms of my lover, feeling the heat of the moment, craving his touch, his cock, the cum that would later flood my pussy and send me skyrocketing into the stratosphere with my own orgasms.

“Up, Pet,” she said, her voice warm, inviting, yet cutting through the air with authority. Even the men, even Sir, had grown silent the moment she arrived. “Let me look at you.”

I hesitated, my eyes on the floor, afraid to look up. Had she called me “pet”? Didn’t she know I had a name? It wasn’t “pet.” I was more than a pet. Sir’s Toy maybe. Sir’s Happy Little Fuck Toy when that’s what he wanted me to be, to say, to recite for him. But never “pet”. I wasn’t her pet, and I decided at that moment, feeling a hint of anger building in my chest, that I wouldn’t answer to that name.

Here I was - content, on my knees in front of the man of my dreams, bathing in his adoration, full of his cum, eager for his touch, his kiss, his next command, even just a simple smile, and this woman had arrived, separated us and dared call me “pet”? I clenched my teeth, surprised enough at how I felt just then, ready to say something, to bark back. If only…

“If you want to crawl, Pet, we can do that, too,” she said, and suddenly she was there in my face, her fingers raising my chin, forcing me to look up at her, angling my face up until I could see Sir. He watched as if helpless as she produced a thin black leather cord and looped it around my neck, pulling it tight. I gasped, feeling the tightness, almost choking as she tightened it, synching it until I was gasping for air.

“Stubborn little bitch, aren’t you? We’ll see about that,” she growled, and I tried to mouth something, to mutter an apology, to beg forgiveness. Sir hadn’t made a move, and the look on his face, his furrowed brow, downturned mouth spoke more of disappointment than concern. I opened my mouth to speak, but the woman was too fast. She looped the cord around again and again, pulling it tight around me, through my open mouth, like a gag Sir had used on me once -- only his was cloth, and she secured it in back before I could even blink. Then, she stood, the black cord trailing from her hand to the back of my neck like a leash, turned to Sir, and said, “This one is going to need some special attention, I think.”

He didn’t say a word, only nodded.

“Move quickly, bitch,” she said, and for the very first time I could see the icy fire in her blue eyes, “or there will be more punishment coming for you than you know.” She turned back to Sir, her blonde waves whipping around from shoulder to shoulder, and said something I couldn’t catch. He nodded, made another slight bow, and looked at me.

“Go with Mistress Taylor, Princess. She will get you ready for your debut.”

And then she was off, silver heeled sandals, perfect toes, tanned legs the only thing I could see as the noose tightened around my throat. I groaned around the makeshift gag but began to crawl, scrambling after her. We moved quickly, back inside and through a crowd that parted without a word. The party hushed as she strode across the main room, me in tow, naked, gagged and choking on her leash like a pet being moved from one kennel to another. The carpet was soft under my knees, but once we were out of the main room, there were only hardwood floors and a series of doors, a hallway twisting to the left, and then a pause as she turned a lock.

By then I was panting, sore, light-headed from the cord. Whatever I’d felt on the veranda, that moment of pleasure with Sir, then that moment of defiance — they were gone. I waited, tears in my eyes, drooling on the floor between my hands, my knees aching, feeling nothing but defeat and shame as she herded me like an animal through the party's guests. There’d been no way to resist, and even there had been the look on Sir’s face…disappointment. Embarrassment? Would I be punished later? Now? His words had been simple: “Go with Mistress Taylor” and yet, I’d resisted. I’d disobeyed, or tried to. I hadn’t trusted him or followed his directions, which I’d learned to accept. And now I was on all fours on the end of this woman’s leash and completely at her mercy after making her angry as well. The punishments were coming. And I deserved them.

Tears streamed down my nose and fell, mixing with the drool on the floor. Lost in my thoughts, I barely heard her speak.

“Now, Pet, will you get up so I can look at you? I’d so much prefer you to walk into my parlor, but if you insist on crawling, I’ll allow it.”

Her voice was soft in the emptiness of the corridor. Soft again as it had been in the beginning, when I couldn’t see past myself to understand what was happening. I’d hesitated, then refused to answer her call, but I blinked away the tears and pushed myself to my feet now. Slowly, my knees aching, the cord still tight around my throat and pulling my mouth back and open. Tears flowed down my cheeks, dripping onto my breasts. My eyes were riveted to the floor. What a mess I must have looked. So ready for the party, beautiful black dress and heels before, the Princess that Sir loved having on his arm, and now I was this crying, drooling disaster of a girl, disobedient and disappointing.

I stood there, legs shaking, my hands going behind my back as Sir had taught me, and waited, blinking through the tears. And there in front of me was this beautiful creature, an angel I’d seen as a devil in the first moments. Her dress was black silk that flowed over her like liquid metal, hugging her body and showing off every magnificent curve. Sleeveless, it came together over her left shoulder and ended mid-thigh, revealing her long limbs, golden brown as if she’d just come off some stage or the red carpet. She stood there like a goddess, and I was a groveling slave.

When her hands came up to my face, I flinched, letting out a whimper, afraid again, but focusing, trying to keep myself still, steady. “Shhh now, Pet,” she whispered, leaning in as her fingers worked the knots behind my neck. Her cheek brushed mine, and I felt her press her cool lips against my hot, moist skin, trailing soft kisses along my jawline. “Shhh. Just a moment. These knots. But I’m sure you know. You’re Michael’s girl, after all, and he’s a wizard with knots. Taught me himself.” I felt her smile, heard a hint of a laugh, and then the knots released, and cord fell away from my mouth, eased from around my throat.

I let out a groan, a loud, long exhale of breath, of fear, of frustration and anger, or relief and thanks.

“There we go,” she said, pulling back, facing me, her blue eyes inches away, locked on me. I felt her fingers in my hair. Her nose brushed mine. She exhaled, notes of caramel or butterscotch on her breath. “Better now?”

I nodded, struggling to hold her gaze. If she’d allowed it, I’d have focused on the floor, my bare feet, how naked I felt in front of her, even though I had felt so comfortable before with my dress pooled on the floor around me, my heels sitting next to me. At that moment, naked and kneeling, fucking Sir’s cock with my mouth, I’d felt comfortable, even safe. Now, I felt exposed, vulnerable, terribly aware that I was under the power of another person. A woman. Mistress Taylor, a name I’d heard from Sir a time or two. A name that he’s spoken with a certain respect, even reverence. She was holding me in her gaze, and there was no escape.

“Good girl.”

I felt the words, the twitch of my clit, like a spark in the night.

“So, you know who I am. I can see it in your eyes. I’m Mistress Taylor, and this play area and everything that you see around you belongs to me. And for the moment, Pet, you belong to me, too. This is your coming out party, and I’ve been very good friends with your Sir for some time, so I asked him to let me do the honors myself. When he described you, when he showed me pictures, I couldn’t resist. I wanted to see for myself what had gotten his attention so thoroughly, and I must say, I’m very impressed. Even with your stubborn streak.” She smiled, and her fingers traced my jawline, lingering under my chin.

“I enjoy a pretty girl with a stubborn streak. I like a little feisty in my own choice of slaves. Makes taming them more fun, wouldn’t you say?”

I mumbled something, her words still reverberating in my head.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her words ice cold now, cutting into me like knives, and suddenly her fingers were on my nipples, twisting them cruelly. “Did you say something, bitch?”

“Yes, Mistress. I’m sorry. I said, ‘Yes, Mistress.” I cringed, the pain in my nipples searing as she held on for another beat, and then released me, her right hand under my chin again as I tried to breathe through the pain.

“Better, Pet. Much better. I see you might be a handful. All the better,” she said, a grin stealing over her beautiful face. “I look forward to the challenge, my darling,” and then she leaned in, pressing against me, the silk dress playing over my aching nipples, my belly, reminding me how naked and vulnerable I was. “I think we might have a lot of fun together when you come back for your training. I have so many fun activities for us to do. I’m looking forward to making you work, putting your through some training, and of course, making you cum.”

She leaned in then, her lips brushing mine as she spoke. My clit was tingling with each syllable while I tamped down on the fear that fluttered in my chest like a thousand butterflies. If it was fear at all; I couldn’t tell. Sir had been so good to me, giving me everything I wanted. Thoughtful, caring, even sweet when he played with me. But Mistress Taylor hinted at something else, something that had my nipples perking up and my pussy slick. Suddenly all I wanted her to do was to touch me, to kiss me, to push her fingers inside me and fuck me. I inhaled her words, her breath, her beauty like it was oxygen, fighting with myself to stay poised and still, hands behind my back, open for whatever she wanted.

“Now, Pet, Tell me your name, and we’ll begin.”

I opened my mouth, my lips trying to form my own name, but her own choice stuck with me. “Pet. My name is Pet, Mistress.”

“Very pleased to meet you, Pet. I think you’re going to be a very good girl for me, aren’t you?”

But before I could answer, she pressed her lips to mine, and I opened my mouth to her tongue.

Author’s Note: Hmmm. Mistress Taylor. Where have I heard that before? Maybe in some blathering about a different story, one that hasn’t been told yet. One that takes place in the steamy South — New Orleans, in fact. The French Quarter even, which is a favorite place of mine. But that’s a tale for a later time, a tale called “The Too True Tale of Taylor’s Tawdry Tumble.” Stick around.