I didn't want to have the conversation. So far the party had been somewhat like a regular dinner party (see and be seen; bore and be bored) except that the women were scantily clad. Some of them were wives, mistresses, slaves and subs. The others were elite entertainment for the evening. I didn't think the girl next to me was anyone's significant anything, but she definitely wasn't entertainment.
At the start of the party it had just been conversation – a handful of us thought we might have a business venture that would work with all of us involved, opening a day spa that could utilize some of the rainforest products my company had synthesized that didn't require extensive testing or drug trials. People worry about what the general public ingests. They pay less attention to what they smear on their skin.
That part had been interesting and kept my mind off the fact that I was looking for a sub, a new girl to break and rebuild, and that I didn't want to.
Annie's not coming back.
Yeah. That was why.
"Tell me what you do," I said to my dinner companion, prepared for her to bounce a little and tell me of course she worked for the adult entertainment company that had sent her here.
Only she didn't. She didn't because just then a bell rang and servers cleared the table and in between bits of business still being transacted and women still sitting still, their various attributes on display, there were suddenly mirrors revealed behind the draperies that hung floor to ceiling against two walls of the dining room. And there were two women climbing onto the table to shed their clothes and begin caressing each other.
I blinked. Well. This was more entertaining than the parties I used to throw, back before everyone scattered. This might be interesting after all.
My companion pouted a little, one lock of hair twisted around her finger. I found myself smiling at that. I'm not one to object to obvious ploys. I still didn't know who she belonged to, but I reached out and ran a hand over the nearest boob, avoiding the barb stuck through the nipple. She made a little O face and licked her lips. Her legs spread encouragingly. I looked around the table, wondering if one took or asked.
The man across from me said, "Go ahead." He was in the process of pulling one of the girls off the table and across his lap, one hand fisting in her hair, shoving her head down toward the floor, the other starting to rub quite hard at her ass. "Tip for you? She hates anal." He winked.
That was enough for me. I was stiff and aching instantly. Since Annie had left –
No. Not thinking about her. Only that since she had left, enough didn't seem to be, and the pain master in me wanted to punish more and more.
"Hates anal, huh?"
The girl next to me jumped. Her eyes went wide and she glared at the man across the table, who winked at both of us. For a second I considered if maybe she actually liked what he was telling me, but no, she looked like she was seconds away from begging.
The sadist in me flared white hot. From a bowl on the table between the wine and the commingling girls, I selected a foil packet and slipped my cock out and the rubber on. She was looking across the table, all former poutiness fled. She was very desperately trying to signal her Dom she didn't want this.
I saw no reason she should communicate in silence. "Oh, he understands, sweetheart," I said, and let the condom snap a little around the base of my cock. "He wants you to do this."
That got the attention of a couple other people at the table. The girl looked at me, eyes wide, then probably without meaning to, looked down at my cock.
I smiled, feeling almost satisfied already. "Come here." My voice was stern, hard as my erection. She opened her mouth, staring at me, probably willing to barter for something less. Whatever she saw in my face changed her mind. She lowered her eyes. "Yes, sir."
She slid from her seat and knelt at my feet, her forehead touching my knees. Very pretty, but no way for me to fuck her in that position.
"Stand up, girl," I said, not unkindly. When she did I put my hands on her hips and turned her so she faced away from me. Then I guided her down until she was essentially doing a squat over my lap, her skirt tucked up into its own waistband, out of my way.
"Pull your cheeks apart," I said in a low voice.
She gave a stifled cry and complied, spreading herself open.
"Now ease yourself down."
She sank a couple inches and touched the tip of my erection with her tight hole, gave a little sob and stopped moving.
I put both hands on her hips and pulled her down hard at the same time I thrust up. If her owner knew she hated this, then he'd done it to her. She could take a random thrust or two.
She made a sound, muffled it, put her hands flat on the table top as though she'd been trained to keep them out of the way. I thought about ordering her to play with her nipples, then realized with those piercings in place, I'd much rather do it myself. She wouldn't hurt herself like I would.
I touched between her legs and came away with a physical representation that however much she hated anal, it excited her. That was more than I needed to know before I started to pump into her. "Pull your skirt up and play with yourself," I said, and my hands came away from her hips and began squeezing her nipples and sliding the barbed piercings back and forth, just to the point of nicking her with them each time. The man across the table looked nearly overcome, and I noticed a head bobbing up and down on him, almost under the table. The girls on the table had climbed down and gone away. I dimly thought that one of them had muttered something like "Fuck this," and that I'd heard the sounds of clothing and the front door closing.
One man's meat…
I pounded into her. She cried out, her hands busy between her legs, her tits starting to bleed, just a little, but any blood without consent to blood play meant finishing up and letting the sub clean up, disinfect, and dress. She would be done for the night…
…just as soon…
…as I came deep inside her ass.
She cried out and I grunted, exploding and feeling her contract around me, a powerful orgasm triggered by my being buried in her ass and her hands being buried between her legs.
She all but fell off me.
"I didn't tell you to move," I said. I wasn't even quite finished coming. Without thinking, I reached down and slapped her hard across the face.
Seconds later I realized she wasn't my sub to punish. Not without permission. The little man seemed unconcerned. He was too far gone into his own pleasure, but the man next to me said, "Not acceptable, St. Martin," and I nodded. "If you have a system?"
They did. A charity. Odd how many of the charities out there received regular influxes of money from billionaires with "unsavory" habits. I helped the girl up and asked if she wanted ice or Advil or any natural painkillers. Her dazed eyes said the slap hadn't registered as much as the O had. I put my hand out to stroke her face, wondering if she'd shy away. Instead she leaned into me, nearly purring, then adjusted her skirt and said dreamily, "I have to go clean up and dress."
Looking around the table I saw an out for the rest of the festivities and suddenly I was very tired of all of it. All I wanted was to finish the business talk over cigars and port. That was coming. As far as I could tell, we had about thirty minutes of debauchery left.
Was I losing my edge? My mind? Or did I just want the person I hurt to be mine?