“When she’s abandoned her moral center and teachings…when she’s cast aside her facade of propriety and ladylike demeanour…when I have so corrupted this fragile thing and brought out a writhing, mewling, bucking, wanton whore for my enjoyment and pleasure…taking everything I dish out to her…at that moment she is never more beautiful to me.”

~Marquis de Sade


“Come with me”. With a tug on her leash, he started walking towards the staircase, in search of a free play area for them.

The presentation round hadn’t been easy but she had managed to keep her composure and fulfill the task, and he had noticed how well she had done, and, not without pride, the interest of a few other men in her.

They wandered the club as people slowly vanished into the different areas. Some went towards the bar, others were socialising in the entrance hall, and for some, judging from the muffled moans and cries drifting into the hallways, play had already started.

When he found a room that wasn’t crowded, he smirked and pulled her in. She gasped when she saw her destination.  There were two round, padded little tables in this room, and one was still empty. With a pillow at one end, metal cuffs that a wrist would fit in or could be fixed to, and leg rests at the other end, similar to what gynaecological examination chairs do have.


She looked at him, shell-shocked, for a split second, then averted her eyes as he tugged on her leash. “Sit down”. She had noticed the two men following them around casually, now hovering about as he reached in behind her and opened the neck holder of her dress.

He murmured into her ear “Everything allright?” and when she nodded “Yes Sir” he pushed her torso down and helped her place her legs into their padded rests. She felt totally vulnerable, even more so when he connected her leather wrists cuffs to the construction left and right hand side of her. She closed her eyes, because she simply didn’t know where to look. It was easier this way.

A second later, she felt his right hand on her left breast. His left hand on her inner thigh, sliding towards her already drenched pussy. Pushing aside the flimsy fabric of her dress so she was open for him. For them.

She felt another hand on her. On her throat, encircling it, then sliding down to her right breast. Kneading it, rolling the nipple in between warm fingers while hand number four held her elbow down so she wouldn’t squirm too much. Simultaneously hand number five rested on her belly as hand number six found its goal between her legs.

She softly moaned. Those hands felt good. Especially that hand on her pussy. Stroking, probing, as its owner appreciatively hummed when he found her soaking wet.

She couldn’t believe what was going on. Where she was. What she was doing. What THEY were doing to her. But she loved every second of it. The fingers that had been teasing and probing before, slid inside her, making her groan loudly. Two, then three. Four. Those fingers felt sooo good, pressing against the jewelled plug in her ass. A hand pressed down on her belly to keep her hips from bucking up as those fingers started to fuck her while a thumb teased her clit.

She heard moans and grunts and the sound of wet body parts slamming into each other from the other table but she kept her eyes shut, only opening them once when she heard his voice “Look at me” so she looked up at her Sir as he slid one finger into her mouth, letting her suck on it and tease it with her tongue. He never stopped playing with her nipple, enjoying the sight, and keeping an eye on the others.

The man in between her legs bent down and started licking her, burying his face in her pussy, groaning as he made a feast of her. She turned her bound wrist, grabbing her Sir’s suit jacket, moaning loudly as that tongue drove her towards orgasm. She would come on this table, in front of these three men. Two of them complete strangers. She was spread out, cuffed, and theirs to use and she had once been horrified of even that thought and now, there, all she could think of was that she didn’t want them to stop teasing and touching her. She was so close.

Not allowed to look up at them once, she wouldn’t recognise their faces later on.  It didn’t matter. Those hands stroking her and tormenting her, that mouth on her clit, sucking, that tongue circling her. The man licking her, slid his fingers back inside her and the other man who had relentlessly stroked her body and her breasts before, bent down and sucked on her nipple. Hard.

Her thighs were trembling and she was clawing his jacket once more when her Sir whispered into her ear “Be a good girl and come for us now”. She wasn’t pushed over the edge, but FLEW, screaming and thrashing under their touch. There was no place for manners, restraint or even shame. Only for this feeling. She managed to groan “Thank you Sir” through gritted teeth, to whomever it may concern.

As she caught her breath and opened her eyes, blinking, she noticed the other men had stepped back, about to mingle with some passers by. Her Sir pulled her up and helped her stand, smirking once again as he grabbed her leash and started walking towards the bar area.  “First of many…”



5 thoughts on “One

    • Danke sehr. 🙂
      Und der Wechsel ist weil ich damals auf Twitter wie hier auf englisch angefangen hab, und viele von den Leuten sich mit deutsch arg schwer tun. Die Deutschen verstehen eher auch mal englisch…ist ja nur ab und zu. 😉

      Liked by 1 person

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