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Fucking Slut - I Love You

"Darling."

"Hm?"

"Look."

You glance up see me standing in front of the couch, my arm outstretched. Your eyes widen and your lips part as your eyes focus on the circular metal collar I am dangling from my outstretched hand. "Tonight?"

"Tonight." I nod and sway the collar from side to side. "I got the call a few days ago and didn't want to tell you until I was sure."

Your eyes follow the collar, back and forth, and a radiant smile spreads across your face. You finally look up at me. "I need to take a shower, I need to...wash my hair, and what clothes am I gonna wear? Like, what's even allowed? I have to—"

"Shh." I flash a grin and crawl on top of you. "You'll make all the preparations you need to and I know you will look great, you always do."

You throw your arms around me as we settle into each other in our familiar way. "Somehow," you muse, "I don't think I could wear any clothing that would actually matter for tonight."

"Yeah." I pull you close to me and murmur into your lips. "They are pretty inconsequential, aren't they?" "Can I wear it?"

I pull back and my heart jumps at the excited gleam in your eyes. "Yes, you can, if you're ready to keep it on."

You kiss me deeply and breathe a yes into my lips. I sit us up and hold the collar between us.

It is a finely crafted piece of silver, carefully polished and embossed with the symbols of the organization that commissioned its existence. The largest two are the letters P and S, delicately engraved on opposite sides of the circle. In between those is a hinge, and opposite the hinge is a clasp with a plastic joining piece, keeping the collar from being closed. Below the S is a metal ring.

I pull off the plastic piece and look you in the eyes. Silently, I reach over and clasp the silver collar around your neck. You blink as the lock clicks into place.

Neither of us have the key.

Later

The city glitters beneath us, becoming more and more distant as the elevator rises. Faintly, I can see your reflection in the glass. You're wearing a simple, yet elegant pencil dress that highlights your curves, coupled with heels. Your makeup, as far as I can tell, is subtle but beautifully done, with a little more emphasis on your eyes. Your hair is done in a bun, and you are the most beautiful woman I've ever known.

I can't tell if you're nervous. The dreamy expression on your face belies nothing about what's going through your head. I reach over and squeeze your hand. "Hey."

You look at me. "Hey."

"Ready?"

You smile and squeeze my hand. "Ready."

The elevator slows to a stop and the doors open. I squeeze your hand a final time, and lead you into the Penthouse. We are greeted by a large set of oak double doors and a tall, well-kept man in a suit behind a podium. Before either of us could say anything, he addressed us.

"Welcome to the Penthouse. Do you have a reservation?" I could feel him giving me a once-over. His eyes landed on your collar, and he nodded as if it were all the response he needed. "One moment while I confirm your reservation details." Both of us smile nervously as he types something into his computer.

Finally, he looks up at us again. "May I store your electronic devices?" I hand over my cell phone; we hadn't bothered to bring yours. He takes it, attaches a small sticky note to it, and locks it in a cabinet under his podium. After this, he turns to face us again.

"Everything is in order. Please, come in." He smiled and stepped to the double doors, gesturing us to follow. We walk into a hallway with red carpet and soft yellow light from lamps mounted on the walls.

At the end of the hallway is a large, Victorian-style room, centered with a semicircular, ornate dining table. Other guests are already here, lounging on sofas and talking. You and I can only take this in for a moment before you are approached by an individual dressed in all black, with the word "Handler" stitched in silver on the lapel of their collar.

"Miss? Are you ready?"

I look at you, and your eyes flicker to me for only a moment before you reply, "Yes." The handler wordlessly attaches a cord that seems to be made of golden rope and steel links to the ring in your collar and begins leading you away from the dining room, towards a small door. You look back at me once, just as your hand is pulled from mine.

I can only admire the curve of your ass swaying as you are walked to the door at the end of the hall. As you step inside, I can see the handler saying something, and I see you sink to your knees. You place your hands on the floor, and the door closes.

I stand there for a moment, looking at the door, until I am approached by a man I assume to be a host.

"This way, sir." I follow my guide to the area beside the dining table, where other guests, men and women, are mingling. All the people I see are dressed well and they look to range in age from mid-twenties to early fifties. In terms of demographics, it seems to be a fair mix of races and ethnicities. As I look around, I estimate there are less than 20 people.

The general social atmosphere, however, is very different than any other I've ever encountered. The people in the room, presumably strangers, seem very familiar and relaxed with one another as they chat amicably. The pressure to meet any social standards at all is notably absent, and each personality in the room feels genuine.

I easily slip into a group of guests. "Hi."

"Hey!" A tall woman with thick glasses and numerous bracelets swivels to face me immediately, grinning. "I don't remember you! Which means this is your first visit to the Penthouse, am I right?"

"Right." I nod, a little taken aback by the intensity of her response. "We only found out about this place a few years ago, and obviously it took a while to get invited and cleared—"

"Totally." A guy with surfer-style blond hair and a neck tattoo flashed his perfectly white teeth at me. "It actually took us three times."

"So which one's yours?" The tall lady interrupted. "You can call me Sasha, by the way."

"Sasha, hi, nice to meet you." I turn my attention back to her. "I'm here with Carolyn."

Sasha nods thoughtfully. "I'll look for her on the menu. It is 'her', right?"

"Yes, her." I smile, suddenly reminded of what's happening to you right now. "Who are you here with, Sasha?"

"Well, I'm usually here with Travis, my sub, but this time I decided to treat a friend. You'll find her under 'Lydia'."

I wanted to ask Sasha more things, like how long she had been coming here, but then a tone played across the room, not unlike the sound that accompanies the seatbelt sign on airplanes. It was followed by a woman's voice.

"Good evening, all. The last guests have arrived, and the entire menu is now being prepared. Dinner will commence in 20 minutes, followed, of course, by a social event in the Playroom."

Sasha squeezes my arm. "Let's go sit." I follow her and the rest of the crowd to the table, which is set with fine dinnerware and black menu cards. I pull out a chair and sit.

Sasha takes a seat to my left, and I look down at my menu. The front lists various main courses, including fish, lobster, chicken, and steak, as well as drinks. The back is much more interesting.

Slave List:

Astrid

Averell

Carolyn

Edgar

Evelyn

Franco

Jennifer

Lucille

Luke

Natalia

Oliver

Patrick

Piper

Slaves are served freshly spanked and edged to the specifications of their owners. Slaves may be fed from the table and shared. All slaves will be chained to rotating serving platters and presented in the center of the table. All slaves will be served to all guests to ensure that each guest receives a sample as a prelude to the social event. Between each permutation, each slave will be lightly washed and spanked (by request).

Next to each name is a picture, and I see yours next to Carolyn. We took that during sex one night; you still had a plug inside you. I decide to order a steak and root beer.

The food is served first, by stone-faced servants dressed in black. The steak is delicious, but I feel like I'm eating it in the third person somehow, distracted by anticipation. A bell rings, and everyone looks around expectantly.

Sasha leans over and nudges me. "Here we go!" She whispers excitedly.

The voice of the Penthouse addresses the table. "Ladies and gentlemen, your slaves are served."

The servants roll out wooden carts with the slaves chained to rotating platforms on top of them, as the menu specified. The slaves are naked, entirely hairless from the neck down, and bound with both metal chains and rope in various positions. Every slave is blindfolded and fitted with a ballgag, and each ass that I can see is rosy red. The foremost slave is a slave boy on his side, with one leg stretched into the air and tied to a wooden post extending upwards. His other leg is bent at the knee and tucked beneath him and his wrists are secured to his collar. His cock, like that of all the male slaves, is fully erect.

The servants position his cart so that the serving platter lines up with the rails laid into the table. Effortlessly, the servants slide him into and across the table. I reach out and stroke his leg as he passes.

Shortly following him is a slave girl tied in a doggystyle position, with her collar secured to her platform and her arms behind her back. The platforms come to a rest, and recognize the slave in front of me as Natalia. I glance at the rest of the carts and see you down at the very end, in front of a relaxed-looking male guest with long hair.

Natalia is displayed on her back, with her heels secured by her neck in an impressive display of flexibility. Her olive skin is smooth and unmarked, save for some faint welts on her exposed thighs and ass, presumably from her dinner preparations. I see Sasha give an approving look before groping the upraised ass of the slave girl in front of her. I tentatively run my hands up Natalia's thighs, feeling the heat still emanating from them. All around me, the guests are happily talking and laughing as they examine, feel and taste the slaves in front of them. Across the table and a few spots down, a woman is licking a slave's cock as she feeds him mashed potatoes, having removed his gag. Elsewhere, the guest that currently has you laughs as he pushes his fingers in your mouth.

Inspired, I lower my face to my slave's pussy and lick. She squirms slightly, hopefully in pleasure. I close my eyes and keep licking, eventually moving my tongue to her asshole.

She was wet when I started (another product of dinner prep), and I can feel her getting wetter as I work. Pleased, I rise and rotate her platform, bringing her head and feet to me.

I press a piece of my steak through her lips and slowly lick the soles of her feet. I hear her moan faintly as she chews. I lift my head and pull down her blindfold, looking curiously into her eyes. She stares back at me dreamily as her mouth hangs open, likely in an unconscious gesture of submission. I slip a finger into her mouth and she automatically closes her lips around it and sucks, still looking into my eyes.

The next bell rings, and the slaves' platforms begin to shift across the table. I replace Natalia's blindfold and give her a soft kiss on her lips as she is wheeled away, and soon the table is empty of slaves.

The next order is headed by a redheaded slave girl suspended upside down by a metal structure. I scan the rest of the lineup and I see you, secured on your knees with your hands behind your head and your collar attached to a metal pole perpendicular to the platform. I reach out and slide a hand down your back as you pass me. Your platform comes to rest to my side in front of Sasha, and a lightly muscled twink slave appears in front of me, face up with his legs in the air. The guests again begin tasting their slaves, and Sasha winks at me before taking your face in her hand and giving it a long, slow lick.

I idly jerk my slave's cock and watch Sasha play with you. She removes your ballgag and blindfold and whispers an instruction to keep your eyes closed. She kisses you softly while gently squeezing your exposed, hanging boobs. I turn my attention back to my slave for a moment; his cock is throbbing in my hand.

I hear his breathing getting heavier. I don't want him to cum just yet, so I release his cock and insert a thumb in his ass. I hear you moaning loudly and turn my head.

Sasha is aggressively fisting you, with one hand deep inside your pussy and the other arm around your back, pulling your ass into her face. She herself moans; I think she's tasting your asshole.

Seeing how easily Sasha is controlling you, and how helpless you are to all these people, is getting me hard. More excited, I start fingering my own slave more deliberately, pressing my thumb deep into his ass. His hips start to move, and I decide to edge him again. I lean down and spit on his cock, and after a moment's thought, I lick its full length and take him into my mouth, sucking hard. Now he moans, and I move down to lick his balls as I stroke his cock, now lubricated with my spit.

You and Sasha are now face to face again, and she has her fingers in your mouth, making it hang open. You're drooling, and I'm pretty sure that it's the same hand she used to fist you, making you taste yourself. She's whispering to you again, probably telling you to call yourself a whore, or a slut, or a piece of meat whose only purpose is to be served for dinner. You answer as best you can, drooling, naked, chained, and put on display for the crowd.

After a while, after all of the guests have sampled all of the slaves, the final arrangement of slaves is wheeled away. I catch your eyes as you pass me; your expression is glazed and distant. Your cart disappears, and dessert - real, proper dessert - is served as a palate cleanser. The voice addresses us once more.

"Attention all guests, the social event will commence in ten minutes in The Playroom. All slaves will be cleaned, prepped and displayed for public use. Toys and implements will be provided at tables throughout the room, and attendants will be on hand to facilitate the bondage and transportation of slaves for enjoyment. Guests are encouraged to play with multiple slaves, and most importantly, to share."

Everyone at the table, including me, is leaning back in their chairs, at once full and incredibly aroused. Some us the guests are smiling, laughing between deep breaths of exhilaration, others are idly touching themselves with dreamy expressions on their faces. The slave tasting did exactly what it was meant to do: give everyone a sample, so they'd know what they wanted during Playtime. I know my own favorites, Natalia among them, but I'm not sure yet if I want to visit you or just watch other men and women use you.