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An Appealing Proposition:

“A Tribute to Being Single on Valentine’s Day”

I woke from the dream with a start, looking around my bedroom, empty but for myself and a few meager furnishings. Shaking my head slowly, I looked at the clock. It was nearly three in the morning, not an uncommon occurrence. Usually, when I woke at this time, it was because of something important – and this case was no exception.

I normally have difficulty remembering my dreams, but those that do survive the transition from sleep to wakefulness are often quite vivid. I clung to the memories as I ran over every detail, wondering as I always did what had prompted such a provocative vision. I recalled the first part with difficulty, the second was clearer, and the third, the last phase…well, it was so vivid and so erotic that I knew it would stay with me well into the following day, the image burned into my thoughts. Standing in a line like that, naked…

Sleep overtook me once more, but not before I had a chance to do two things. First, I checked my phone. One missed call, from Laura. Why did she always call me at one in the morning, knowing full well I’d be asleep for work the next day? It was no matter, since my heavy sleeping kept her from waking me, but regardless, I wondered what she might be up to so late. No good, I assumed.

The second thing that I did before I fell back into the bliss of sleep, trying in vain to continue The Dream, was to run my hand down my body to touch myself. This in and of itself is not unusual, any man will attest. But that night, I was particularly surprised to feel just how aroused I was. My cock was nearly pulsing in my hand as I ran my fingers along the length of my hardness. Surely this was a response to the dream, and had I been slightly more awake, I might have pleasured myself right then and there. As it was, I chose to drift off to sleep and wait until morning. This was one dream, I knew, that I would not soon forget.

As always, Laura called me at the worst possible moment. The light of day was seeping through the blinds of my bedroom, and the clock foretold a late start and a late arrival at the office. At that moment, however, I didn’t care, because my hand was wrapped around the hardness of my cock, moving back and forth in a rhythm so animalistic that even I found myself wondering what had gotten into me.

It was then, of course, than my phone rang.

“Fuck,” I muttered, reaching to turn the damn thing off. As I opened it, I saw that once again the woman with the perpetually bad timing was on the line. I could have hung up and continued, but instead I sighed and pressed answer. I’m still not sure why I did this. Call it instinct. I wasn’t expecting, nor hoping, to suddenly goad her into phone sex. I’d answered her phone calls plenty of times while masturbating (though I never admitted it, even when she suspected). This time I was plainly curious as to what urgent business would have her call me twice in seven hours. I showed this intrigue with my less-than-charming response as I answered the phone.

“What?”

“Oh,” said the voice on the other end of the line, obviously taken aback. I realized, far too late, that I might have responded more impatiently than I intended. “Bad time?” she asked.

“No, no, it’s fine. Sorry. What’s going on?”

“You aren’t…are you?” Her voice, though sounding concerned of my privacy, had the slightest hint of sarcasm.

“No,” I said, trying to sound sleepy. “Just woke up. So what was so important you called me last night and now this morning?”

On the other end of the line, I could almost see Laura smirking. We share quite a few things, but I have my limits, and one of those is admitting to my friend how much of a pervert I really am. She did not need to know that at that very moment, I was stroking myself within a few seconds of an amazing orgasm.

The thing you have to understand about Laura and I is that we are just good friends. And normally, I’d be the first to call “bullshit” on a situation like that. Normally, I’d be the first to speculate that there is some sort of hidden, subconscious crush going on for either one or both of us. But believe me, we talked about that. You don’t get drunk with a female friend and not discuss things like that at least once.

The truth is that she’s an attractive woman, but just not my type. And besides, I had been enjoying being single at the time of our last drunken “what-if” conversation, and I still was. That being said, it was, and still is, nice to have some female contact from time to time, and she helps with that. Laura goes through boyfriends like Kleenex (one of the many reasons we are just friends-I can picture where that boat ends up), and occasionally asks for advice. I do my best, which usually amounts to “give the guy a break.” She never does.

So that’s that. It was February, and Laura was between boyfriends again. I was trying my best not to mope over my latest fiasco of a relationship. I should have seen this coming. Like most men, I had forgotten the significance of the middle of February.

“Ok,” Laura replied at last, obviously unconvinced by my earlier fib of having just woken up. “So what are you doing for Valentines Day?”

I tried not to groan. Honestly, I tried. But it came out anyway.

“So nothing, then.”

“No, nothing. Why, do you have plans?”

“Well,” came Laura’s voice, thick and dark, yet distinctly feminine at the same time. “I have an idea, but I need a date. I mean, not a “date” date, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I get it. And since we are both single, you figured…”

“No, don’t go there,” she said, cutting me off. “This isn’t a favor to me. This is something I think you would like, whether you would admit it now or not. It’s Cloe, my friend. She’s having a Valentine’s party. I’ve heard a basic outline of the plan and I think you would really enjoy it.”

At the mention of Chloe, I perked up. It wasn’t that I was interested in her, per se. Chloe is a strange woman, a rich girl who tries to pretend not to be, and fails. But the ways that she pretends not to be…well, they can be fun at times. I’d never been to one of her parties, but I’d heard some of Laura’s stories. Something about a room full of girls and lots of body shots was how they always began. I usually had to stop Laura right there before finding myself uncomfortably aroused in her presence. She seems to enjoy giving me a hard time occasionally, just for fun. No pun intended.

I have to admit that I was both intrigued and a little overwhelmed by her invitation. I’m a kinky guy, I will say that, but I’m what you might call a closet perv. No one at work would guess the kinds of thoughts that cross my mind on a regular basis. I enjoy my life, enjoy dating, enjoy women, and enjoy my fantasies, but Laura…well, Laura had lived out a few more of her fantasies than I had mine, and many of them happened via Chloe’s parties. So all in all, I felt a little out of my element.

But I had to admit (my cock still hard and pulsing in my hand, by the way), it was an appealing proposition.

“Sure,” I said. “It’s on a Saturday this year, isn’t it?”

“It sure is! Pick me up at 7. I’ll direct you from there.”

And that she did.

“How much further?” I asked, squinting against the lights of a passing car. We had been driving for nearly a half hour, Laura in the passenger seat and looking incredibly sexy, a black, silky dress draped over her body like a second layer of skin.

(Look, I said that we were friends, and that there was no romantic attachment. I didn’t say that I hadn’t fantasized about taking her from behind. And realistically, one must remember that I am of the male species. It’s not unexpected.)

Her large, voluptuous breasts pushed against her dress, adding to the curves of her body in such a way that I had a hard time concentrating on the road. If Laura weren’t so fickle, I found myself thinking, she would certainly be my ideal body type. I’m a man who loves a woman who takes care of herself but still has a few curves. Laura isn’t a size two, but when she moves her hips and bends over, it is enough to make a man forget his name, address, and phone number.

So, she in her black dress and I in my sport jacket drove onwards bickering indecently. At last, she pointed to the right, indicating that I should turn (far too late, I might add, and I nearly missed it). For that hasty maneuver, I got a honk and a finger (and not the good kind, thank you ma’am) from the driver behind me before we were safely parked at what I can only describe as a mansion.

“Damn, it’s a mansion,” I said, with very little creativity.

“Yes, I suppose it is,” she replied, surprisingly distracted. Normally, Laura is one of those women that has the ability to make you think you are the most important man on earth at that very moment and her inattentiveness to me was unnerving.

“Shall we go in?” I asked, to which I received no reply, only the opening of a door and the walk of a woman with a purpose. Apparently she had overcome her temporary shyness and was in a hurry to start the party. I had to rush to catch up – even in heels, that woman could move!

I hurried to catch up with Laura as we approached the front of the building, and we were greeted with a set of double doors inlaid into an Italian-style façade. Or at least that’s what Laura told me. All I knew is that it looked really fancy.

The door opened before we could knock, and a feminine shriek of welcome went up from the woman who had opened the door. Laura smiled warmly, hugging the woman before her as they lightly kissed one another’s cheeks.

I had never met Chloe before, and though I had been told what to expect, it was still difficult to adjust to the scene in front of me. The woman at the door was wearing Uggs, those ridiculously furry boots. And that was just about all. Her short, blond hair fell over her perfectly tanned face ever so slightly, while her tall legs, smooth and equally tanned, seemed to click together when she talked, which led my eyes up toward her tiny black bikini underwear. I was just about to venture a glance up toward her naked chest (even without looking I could tell her breasts were firm and incredibly perky) when I realized that she was turning to talk to me.

“Well, hello there sweetie, happy Valentines Day!” she beamed at Laura. “I’m just so glad you could make it! Oh dear, I haven’t gotten dressed yet, look at me still in my boots and ratty clothes. You are early dear, and you brought a friend!” she looked at me, smiling just as widely at me as she did at Laura. “You must be Laura’s friend I’ve heard so much about. Come to enjoy the party, I see? Well you are very welcome; please come in and make yourself at home while I get dressed.”

“And you two…” she pointed at both of us, as though there were someone else standing at her door, “be good. With a mischievous glance over her shoulder she added, “For now.” And at that, she was gone, the door was closed and we were sitting inside a massive cavern that appeared to be a living room. At least, I guessed it served as such, judging from the television taking up one wall.

I looked at Laura then and gave her a look. Laura and I have known each other long enough to know one another’s secret looks. She has her “drop it” look when she’s really pissed off, her “calm down!” look when she thinks I might start a fight, and her “you are waaaay too drunk” look, which usually comes out in conjunction with the other two. They are all very similar. I, on the other hand, have really only one look. It’s my “you have got to be kidding me” look. I gave it to her then, and I wasn’t shy about it.

“I know,” she said, looking right at me. “Just hang in there. You won’t be disappointed. I’ve heard a preview of how it is going to go this year and it’s going to be really good.”

“Like, for real, totally good?” I asked in my fake Valley Girl accent, receiving a light punch in my arm in response.

“Do you want to know or not?”

I put on my serious face. “Please, do tell.”

“Fine. There are three parts. The first, a fashion show, of sorts. The second, a demonstration. And the third…well, it sounds like the third part of the night will be a downright cattle call.”

“All right,” I said slowly, drawing a deep breath. “That sounds somewhat interesting, if a little vague. What happened to the lesbian body shots I was promised?”

“I think Cloe has decided to bring a little more class to the party this year, perhaps to honor the day. Don’t worry though; I’m sure she hasn’t lost her flare for the erotic.”

We sat in relative silence for another half hour, and I found myself wondering why I had insisted on coming to the party on time, despite Laura’s insistence that no one else would be there that early. Fashionably late was still in, it seemed.

Slowly, however, guests began to arrive, all in twos, one male, one female. Laura answered the door, as Cloe was nowhere to be found, obviously upstairs still getting dressed. We congregated in the living room, making awkward small talk as seven became seven thirty, and seven thirty became eight. Thank God I’d eaten beforehand, for there were no hors d’oeuvres at this party.

It was around ten past eight, and I took another look around the room, seeing perhaps two dozen or more people in all. Each couple was well dressed, and had I looked at many of their tags I’m sure I would have found Gucci, Armani, and the like embroidered on them. I won’t share what the labels on my jacket said.

Finally, around eight fifteen, an audible click echoed through the room, and a soft voice resonated from all the corners, simultaneously.

“Welcome, everyone,” came a soft, sultry voice from the speakers that I could now see subtly hidden with the rest of the furnishings. I turned to Laura, my eyebrows furrowed in thought.

“Is that-” I started to ask, but she cut me off with a shush before I could continue.

“Please,” said the voice, “move on to the grand drawing room for the first phase of the entertainment for the evening. I regret that I am still completing my own preparations for the night, but I will join you shortly. My staff will show you the way.”

Two men dressed in tuxedos appeared out of nowhere, gesturing for the guests to follow. The grand drawing room had clearly been modified substantially for this event, for in the center stood a small, yet authentic-looking runway, and on the back wall hung a well decorated curtain hiding the room beyond. Around the runway were a number of chairs, easily enough for all the guests to find a seat, and each one facing the runway from each side.

Laura and I sat next to one another, near the front, and were quickly surrounded by others taking their sets near us. Most people, I could see, were romantic couples, two people openly groping one another when they thought no one was looking, but a few seemed more plutonic, like us. Offhandedly, I saw two or three people sitting alone, when I could have sworn earlier I saw them with a date. After all, it was required, I recalled.

The lights dimmed, and a soft cello began to play in the background. This room, too, had what must have been dozens of hidden speakers scattered around it.

“And now,” came the soft voice once more, radiating from the four corners of the room, “I give you the first phase of this evenings entertainment. To get the proverbial ball rolling, a fashion show. All the latest in erotic wear, my personal favorites, of course.”

And with that, out strode a woman in what I can only describe as a black leather corset. The unique thing about this particular corset, however, was that it didn’t cover her breasts, but rather pushed them upwards, shrinking her waist to near-impossible dimensions. Oh, and she wore nothing underneath it. Her skin had a twinge of olive to it, and it glistened, even in the dim light. She strode with purpose, but slowly, unlike the runway models we are used to seeing on TV. She approached my side of the runway with a slight smile on her lips, letting her legs part provocatively as she turned and walked back through the curtain.

My eyes lit up, and I turned to Laura, grinning. She smiled back, and patted my thigh gently. I got the message: Be patient. More to come.

Another woman, this one as scantily clad as the previous, strode out onto the runway. Only this time, the model was dressed in a black see-through teddy that left very little to the imagination. Her gait was equally deliberate, the slow, sensual music of the cello a welcome change of pace from the pulsing electronic I would have expected from a party.

A third woman, in another corset, only this one was a renaissance style, covering her breasts (albeit just barely), her pale skin accentuated with dark eyeliner. I caught her eye as she passed, and she smiled, revealing elongated incisors.

“They sure go for the full effect,” I said, turning to Laura, and stopped myself in mid-thought. She was gone! I looked back behind, wondering how my friend had managed to slip away. It retrospect, it probably wasn’t that hard to do since my attention was rather taken by the models.

A man came next, well muscled and skin gleaming with oil, wearing nothing but a ball gag. Several gasps and a few crude remarks from the guests followed, but everyone soon quieted as he walked away.

The next model nearly made my heart stop. Her long, auburn hair flowed freely over her subtle curves, her large breasts bouncing slightly as she pushed the curtain aside and walked toward the runway. Black leather barely covered her breasts, and reached around her side to finish at her crotch. In between, there was only skin and the ring where her outfit fastened in the front. She wore a black collar around her neck, and she walked carefully, for she could not use her arms for balance. This is because her hands were restrained behind her with cuffs.

Laura walked that runway with a confidence and sensuality I had never seen before in any woman, and though I had recognized her features instantly, I did a double take, sure that my eyes had deceived me. And yet on she walked, passing me and looking down, seeming not to notice my eyes upon her. Instead of turning and walking back, however, she dropped to her knees at the end of the runway, looking down at a petite redhead seated in the front row.

“Darling,” she said, almost sounding bored. “I have a surprise underneath this thing. Would you mind helping me out?”

The redhead, clearly nervous, nonetheless complied, standing up from her chair and walking up to the runway. She slowly peeled the bra portion of the leather outfit down to reveal Laura’s substantial breasts beneath, and the nipple clamps fastened tightly to them. Someone from the audience whistled softly, and then all was silent as Laura leaned down and pressed her lips against those of the redheaded woman, locking them for several seconds before releasing, standing back up, and walking offstage.

The redhead, her face turning nearly the color of her hair, sat back down to the cheers of several men around her. I, meanwhile, sat in awe. I knew that Laura was a woman in touch with her sexuality, but this? She had told me the occasional dirty story, of course, usually followed by her usual pitch to me to “get out more,” but seeing her body sway like that made me realize what I had been missing, not necessarily from her, but from women in general. I had truly believed, for a long time up to that point, that women like that existed only in porn and on the internet, but here was a flesh a blood woman that I knew, who had just shown her sexuality to more than two dozen strangers, and was probably soaking wet from doing so, if the look on her face during that kiss was any indication.

It became obvious to me, looking around, that many of the models came from the audience, as I noticed people discreetly getting up and leaving their chairs, only to return later. It was several more minutes before Laura returned; incredibly now wearing her black dress from earlier.

“What?” she asked with mock innocence, turning to me as I gave her a shocked look. This look, I admit, was a new one for me.

“What do you mean what? You know what!”

“That’s nothing,” she whispered. “Here comes the finale.”

At that, out walked the redhead from earlier. Her pale skin and dark red hair were accented perfectly by the blue latex corset she wore, along with the matching elbow-length gloves. What was different about this woman, I noticed, was the object strapped to her crotch. The laces holding it on were black, but the device itself was also blue, a perfect match for her outfit. No larger than a cell phone, and made of some soft material, it appeared to cover her vagina completely, though just barely.

I had a feeling as to what this device might be, but I put it out of my mind. I didn’t want to be disappointed if I was wrong. Luckily, I wasn’t wrong. She walked slowly, deliberately. She didn’t have quite the same confidence as the others, though she made up for it in grace, her long legs moving expertly in the heels holding her up. Her face was flushed red, her lips equally so. As she passed, I could have sworn I smelled the faintest hint of arousal from her.

The redhead reached the end of the platform, and began to turn back. She never made it. In the relative quiet of the room, even the sounds of the cello could not drown out the buzzing that had commenced. The woman stopped mid-step, and moaned.

Her moan sounded like nothing I had heard before. It was both urgent and terrified at the same time. She had to have known what was going to occur when she put that device on, and yet, when the little blue rectangle turned on (there were no wires I could see), it seemed almost to drive her mad with lust and embarrassment together.

The buzzing increased. She stayed on her feet, barely, her hands reaching instinctively downward to her legs, steadying herself. She threw her head back, moaning louder now as the device continued relentlessly, vibrating right over her wetness as she staggered a few steps forward and back. She must have felt the need to do something, anything, as she looked desperately among us. All she had to do was pull the device from her crotch, if she wanted, but I knew this would never happen. As terrified and embarrassed as she seemed, this woman was shaking with passion, her moans now nearly screams as the vibrations continued to increase in speed and strength.

My hands, meanwhile, had instinctively found my own crotch, and I glanced over to see I wasn’t the only one. Laura had her dress pulled up to her thighs, and her hand was underneath, moving in a rhythmic motion as the redhead took a few more steps forward, and then orgasmed.

This woman was doubtlessly chosen as the end to the first act thanks to her unique talent. She came in waves, and with each wave came a gush of liquid, running down her thighs. She was squirting so hard that she was soaking the floor she stood upon. She arched her back in ecstasy, still somehow remaining standing as her body shook over and over again.

The audience was silenced, with the exception of the occasional moan now emanating from around us rather than the stage. A couple near us was openly playing with one another, the man’s cock standing at attention in her hand as he squirmed in his chair.

Laura, too, was squirming, her hand gyrating under her dress as she watched the redhead catch her breath and walk slowly from the stage, her legs still obviously weak.

“Now, now, darling,” said a soft, sensual voice from behind us. “You aren’t supposed to be cumming just yet.” I turned and gasped at what I saw. Even in the dim light, Cloe was unmistakable, though her physical appearance had changed substantially since I had met her a few hours ago. Her hair was no longer blond, but rather jet black. Whether a true dye job for the occasion, or a wig, I had no idea, and I did not care as I took in the rest of her. She was taller than she had been before, likely due to the knee-high heeled boots she wore, which matched the leather gloves that extended to her elbows. Her body was wrapped in a nearly skin-tight vinyl overcoat which tied at the waist, allowing her firm, supple breasts to pour upwards and outwards, her nipples barely covered. Her lipstick was black, and her eyeliner dark. In her right hand Cloe held a rider’s crop, which she tapped absently against her left as she stood, staring down at us.

Laura paused, and turned to see Cloe just as I had. Her mouth hung open, and her hand stopped moving underneath her dress. Whatever this part of the plan was, Laura hadn’t been in on it.

“That’s better, my dear,” said our newly transformed hostess, looking up to the rest of the guests and speaking with the same soft, confident sensuality that had emanated from the speakers earlier. “This concludes the first part of our entertainment tonight, and provides an excellent transition to our second phase. By the way, the third part will make sure that everyone-” she glanced down at me and paused, “will participate. But first, let us thank all of our lovely contestants. And a special thanks to my pet, Rachel. Love ya darling.” Cloe stretched out the last word she spoke, almost mocking her other self as she continued.

“For the rest of the evening, I am Mistress C. You can call me Mistress C and only Mistress C. I hope this is clear to everyone. We wouldn’t want any misunderstandings, would we, my dears?”

All of us, every single guest, shook our heads instinctively. Mistress C grinned in satisfaction. “Then let us begin the second phase of our evening. As you have seen, the first act showcased my favorite clothing for the purposes of…visual entertainment. Our second phase will focus on ways to enjoy oneself and others. After all, this holiday is about giving rather that receiving, am I right?” A hearty laugh echoed from the woman’s chest as the music began once more. Though still classical, it had a slightly more upbeat flair this time, more focused and agile.

And once more, a model strode purposefully through the covering separating our room from the dressing room. This time, however, there was little question as to the purpose behind the demonstration, because behind her strode another woman.

The first was undressed. She was completely naked, and blond, her hair down to her shoulders and her breasts bouncing as she walked, striding toward the end of the runway until she reached it, falling to her hands and knees, smiling knowingly at the audience as we watched the woman behind her, a brunette dressed in a black corset, approach her. The brunette’s right hand held a black leather whip. Its length dragged slowly along the ground behind her, even as she raised her arm and snapped her wrist, prompting a cry of anticipation and lust from the blond, who still lay on all fours, motionless.

Again, the snap of the whip and a cry, but this time louder as I could see a small welt form on the blond’s ass. Her right hand, I noticed, had reached from holding her up to her thigh, to now between her legs, rubbing herself as the brunette behind her whipped her again, harder this time, prompting a yelp and a moan, the two almost merging into one as I could see the blond woman shaking with what I can only describe now as lust mixed with anticipation and sprinkled with fear.

Beside me, I could see Laura wanting to touch herself further. Even though Mistress C had mysteriously disappeared, Laura dared not partake of herself as she had tried to earlier, for fear of punishment. I could see other couples similarly squirming, wanting to fulfill their desires right in front of us all, but unable to do so thanks to the instructions of the hostess.

One more snap of the whip, and another scream commenced before the blond slowly stood on all fours at the beckoning of her brunette mistress, and shakily walked off stage, followed closely by the woman with the whip.

“Thank you so much, dears,” I heard the voice of Mistress C echo once more through the room. “That is one of my favorite whips and I like to see it put to good use once in a while. And now, for a more complex demonstration. Jenna, Adam, please let them see one of my favorite ensembles.”

And with that, another couple strode onstage, though this time it was a man and a woman. The woman, Jenna, was in front, her stride firm and secure, despite her complete nudity. Her large, tanned breasts, thin waist and curvy hips made quite an impression. In one hand she held the end of a leash, and in the other was an item that I could not immediately identify.

The difference with this couple, however, is that the next person in line, Adam, followed her much more closely than in the previous couple. The reason that Adam was doing this is that he was wearing a collar, attached to the leash held by Jenna. Over his eyes, a blindfold obscured his vision such that he was clearly following the footsteps and pace of the woman in front of him. His skin was pale, but his was covered in sharp, lean muscle. He also sported a substantial erection, his cock standing straight up in front of him as Jenna led him on.

As the couple reached the end of the runway, Jenna pulled Adam’s chain tight, forcing him close to her as she licked and softly bit his lips, an erotic, feral look on her face. He responded, giving into her dominance with an ever-so-slightly audible, guttural moan.

Pushing him away suddenly, Jenna lowered what I had come to think of as her toy to the floor, standing over Adam as he lay on his back, his still hard penis jutting up at her as a signal of his desire. She reached down to pick up an item sitting on the stage, and I finally realized what she had been holding in her other hand.

“One of my more kinky toys,” spoke our hostess once more though the speakers. “Specially designed to be used warm, but not too hot on the skin. We wouldn’t want our poor boy screaming now, would we?”

With that, Jenna lifted the lighter that she had picked up from a hidden spot on the stage and lit the candle she had been carrying, allowing the flame to sizzle to life as she kneeled over Adam, a collective intake of breath issuing forth from the audience as all of us waited to watch the first drop fall over his body.

“I almost forgot to mention,” came the voice of our hostess, “for this particular demonstration, audience participation is encouraged.” Mistress C let out a soft moan, as though there were a man between her legs at that instant. “Wouldn’t you like to take that nice hard cock in your hand while he’s covered in wax, girls? I know I would. There is only one rule, however. There are to be no orgasms from the audience, just yet.”

No one moved immediately, for we were all simply so captivated as the first bit of wax melted off the candle, falling to the man’s chest and prompting a grunt as more slivers began to fall. Over and over again the naked woman, Jenna, allowed the candle to drip over her slave as he squirmed beneath her.

From somewhere to my right, I caught movement as I noticed Laura gripping her thighs. Obviously, it was taking everything she had not to reach her hand under her dress once more, and her occasional squirming made it clear just how difficult this was for her. We both sat in awe as we noted a short, dark haired woman approach the stage. I saw that both her arms and one shoulder were covered in tattoos, though it was difficult to make out the nature or theme of the ink. The woman was bold, I will say that. She simply climbed on the stage, still in her formal-length dress, sat down beside the couple, and reached out to take Adam’s engorged cock in her hand as she watched, still fixated like the rest of us on his body while Jenna continued to allow the candle to drip across his torso.

Adam’s quiet grunts became loud, uninhibited moans as the tattooed woman began to stroke his cock, a look of concentration on her face so intense and focused that I was lost in the moment, these two women delivering a tandem of pleasure and pain to the collared man before them.

My own focus was broken, however, by a stirring behind the curtains leading to the dressing room as Mistress C walked quickly on stage. She was wearing her outfit from before, the vinyl overcoat, jet black hair, and elbow length gloves no less provocatively dominatrix than earlier. In one hand, she held what was clearly a sex toy, a rabbit from the look of it.

The one other addition to Mistress C’s ensemble was a microphone clipped to her ear and jutting outwards to her mouth, the kind that singers wear onstage when dancing. I now realized how her voice had come so clearly through the speakers, as she spoke while she strode to the end of the aisle.

“Darlings, this is looking so juicy,” she paused for effect as she turned her head to watch the tattooed woman jacking off Adam harder now, no longer teasing but owning him with her grip. “I’d like to introduce one other toy, my favorite rabbit. Stimulates the clit while vibrating the good old ‘G inside you. I think maybe our good friend Jenna might like me to help her demonstrate, if she can tear her eyes from that boy of hers. Isn’t that right Jenna?”

The woman in front of her nodded almost imperceptibly, so focused on the now thoroughly waxed man before her, but she slowly obeyed, blowing out the candle and placing it aside and she lay on her back, spread eagled before our hostess and her new mistress.

Mistress C wasted no time, falling to her knees before the Dom turned sub in front of her, and placed the toy against Jenna’s no doubt already soaking cunt. I could just make out the steady vibrations coming from the area of the stage as the toy was turned on.

Glancing back at Adam, I noted that the tattooed woman has upped the ante. She had climbed on top of his face, facing his cock, grinding her pussy against his face as she continued using only her hands on his now throbbing cock. Adam was writhing and moaning beneath her, though her own moans had already almost surpassed his. In the back of my mind, I warned her against orgasming, as she was an audience member, after all, and had been expressly prohibited from cumming during this exposition.

Mistress C must have noticed this too, because she whispered something inaudible in the direction of the tattooed woman, though she had turned off her microphone so I was unable to hear.

The tattooed girl with dark hair (and an apparently feisty attitude) said something back that I also couldn’t hear, but nodded slowly. She did not, however, let up on the man before her, or stop grinding her pussy against Adam’s face.

Jenna was quickly moaning and begging for more as our Mistress worked effortlessly on the aching pussy before her, pressing the vibrator harder against the woman’s pussy as she began to scream like a porn star, every thrust prompting a different moan. “Please,” she cried in between groans, “don’t stop.”

Our hostess said nothing, though the speed of the vibrator seemed to increase as she adjusted a setting. Both Jenna and Adam were bucking under the pleasure of their respective owners, and when they came almost in unison it was really no surprise.

Adam came first, his hips arching upwards in one final thrust against the tattooed woman’s fist as he began to shoot sperm into the air, making it land all around him. Several streams of cum hit the slightly surprised dark haired woman as she continued to grind against his face, her lips now wet with his cum as she moaned.

Jenna moaned louder, her orgasm reaching her quickly under the careful supervision of our hostess, her hips bucking against the toy inside her as she gripped her breasts, pinching her nipples and screaming for more.

As both Jenna and Adam lay spent, the feisty tattooed girl still ground her pussy against Adam’s face, and the grateful man was clearly responding in kind as her face transformed into one of pure pleasure and emotion.

One more, our hostess spoke several words to the tattooed woman, who this time looked back at her, a frown crossing her lips as she looked down at the man under her. His hands gripped her hips, his face hidden beneath her pussy, he was clearly licking and sucking with all his skill as she swallowed and pushed herself off of him. Her face was clearly flushed with arousal as she did so; moving slowly to the end of the platform and lowering herself down, pulling her dress back down around her waist.

Our Mistress stood, ignoring the now spent woman in front of her.

“Very nice, my dears. A very interesting show indeed. I would have liked to showcase my favorite toy of all…but I suppose I will wait on that one until the final phase of entertainment for the evening. Now, let us all retire to the next room. My assistants-“she gestured and once more the two men in tuxedos appeared “will guide your way.”

None of us wasted any time in following the two men through a door in the right-hand side of the room, though I noticed a few couples quickly collecting themselves, clearly not wanting to invoke the wrath of Mistress C for their hasty play.

The room we entered was painted entirely black, and was lit only by candles running the length of three walls. Against the fourth wall was the longest couch I had ever seen, large enough for all of us to sit on it, which we did without being told. Laura was situated to my right, while the small but feisty woman with tattoos across her arms and short dark hair was to my left. Almost absently, I realized that this was the woman from earlier, the girl who had jacked off Adam, the woman who had nearly cum and incurred God knows what wrath upon her from our hostess. I realized, then, that my closer look had certainly labeled her correctly, as a feisty one indeed. A man, I assume Feisty’s date, was on her other side. On Laura’s right side stood one of the men from the show, though now fully clothed again.

We sat in utter silence, save for the occasional nervous joke as we waited. Five minutes went by, and then ten. I sat uncomfortably, writhing slightly as the memories of earlier refused to depart the forefront of my mind. I am sure that others were uncomfortable as well, though no one dared touch themselves or others as we had begun to earlier.

At last, the click of heels on the hard wood floor indicated the approach of Chloe-now Mistress C. She walked slowly, deliberately, though the door and stopped halfway into the room. She spoke one word.

“Strip.”

And so we did, every last one of us. No one dared question, nor ask for clarification. We all knew what she meant. Naked. For lack of any other place, we put our clothes on the couch behind us, standing now in front of it.

I wanted to speak, to ask Laura just what the hell she had gotten me into, but I didn’t dare. Besides, I wouldn’t have gone anywhere, even if I were allowed. I simply had to know what would happen next.

I didn’t have to wait long.

Mistress C approached the end of the line of naked bodies to my left. There were just a few people between me and the end of the line, namely the woman I had dubbed Feisty, her date, and two others. I couldn’t help but glance down the line in the opposite direction to see not only expressions as nervous as my own, but also the twitching of flesh, and the scent-becoming powerful-of sexual arousal.

The sharp click of heels turned my attention back to the left, as I watched our hostess walk down the line, passing me as she did so, inspecting each of us as she passed. She walked this way all the way down the line, stopping at last at the other end.

“I’m going to pair you up,” she said. “You may speak to your partner and introduce yourself, but nothing more.” And with that, she began to re-arrange the line, pulling men and women by the arms and placing them at different locations, gesturing to indicate who was paired with whom. I turned to glance at Laura, who looked back at me, and licked her lips unconsciously.

It was a slow process, and we were at the opposite end, as our hostess moved in our direction. When she was about halfway through this re-organization, she stopped, smiling deviously.

“Yes,” she said, as much to herself as anyone else. “These two will work nicely. You and you, she said, pointing to a man and a woman. What are your names?”

“James,” answered lean but well built, clean shaven man.

“Andrea,” was the woman’s response. She was short, with small breasts and a firm body.

“James,” Echoed Mistress C. “Andrea. Yes, you will do very well. Turn around, both of you, and face the couch. Bend over.”

I could see them hesitate, and I could see what was coming next. The woman probably would have eventually turned on her own, but Mistress C made it happen a bit faster. She grabbed the short woman’s hair and spun her around, not hard enough to hurt, but certainly hard enough to surprise her. I could hear the smacks of our hostess’s riding crop on the girl’s ass, three of them, one after the other in rapid succession.

James turned without having to be told again. I couldn’t see their faces past all the other naked bodies in front of me, but I could see the man’s cock. It was hard as granite as he bent over just like Andrea, his hands resting on the couch.

“That’s better,” said Mistress C, smiling. “Now, you-” she gestured to the man standing next to Andrea “eat her from behind.” This young man, no older than a junior in college, had learned the lesson from the other two. He did not hesitate, but rather fell to his knees and spread open Andrea’s legs, pressing his mouth up against her pussy from behind.

“Now,” spoke up Mistress C once more, “You, lie underneath James and suck his cock.” The woman she was speaking to quickly obeyed also, falling to the floor beneath James and taking his cock in her mouth as he began to slowly fuck her face, keeping his hands on the couch in front of him.

All around me, people breathing heavily, trying in vain not to show their arousal too obviously. Almost absently, I noticed that my right side was pressing against Laura’s left. There was no sexual contact at all, only our bodies barely touching one another, and yet in that moment any contact with another human was enough to drive me wild with lust.

I could hear moans from the center of the line, as Andrea was clearly enjoying the licking that she was receiving from her young partner. I could see her pressing back against his face, covering him in her juices as unmistakable sounds of deep throating from the couple next to her echoed in the sparsely furnished room.

“Stop,” spoke up Mistress C, and the four people slowed, looking up at her to receive their next instruction. “You two,” she pointed to the young man servicing Andrea, and the woman with James’s cock in her mouth. “Switch.”

Everyone froze. I could feel my heart beating in my chest, almost unable to watch thanks to the intensity of the moment. And yet at the same time, I couldn’t take my eyes off of them.

It was the woman with James’s cock in her mouth that broke the moment, slowly removing the cock from her mouth and getting up. She walked over to Andrea, got down on her knees while the young man dumbly moved aside, and began to lap at Andrea’s pussy, pressing her face deeply against the woman’s wetness.

This left the young man. He was aroused, this much I could see, as his cock stood at attention, dripping precum all over the foor.

“Well?” asked Mistress C, staring at the young man with annoyance. “What are you waiting for?”

“I-” he began, but she cut him off.

“Switch places now! Or else I’ll tie you up myself and let my butlers have your ass” she turned toward the men in tuxedos, one at each corner of the room.

The young man looked down at his feet, took a breath, and walked over to where James was still bent over the long leather couch. Hesitantly, he lay down beneath the older, larger man, and grabbed his cock with his hand, rubbing it up and down. James let out a moaning gasp that left no question as to his enjoyment, and with that a sharp exhale of breath fell across the other waiting guests.

Satisfied, Mistress C continued on, re-ordering the line, moving some people to the other side, and bringing a few unpartnered guests toward our side. Finally, she reached our group. Instead of going immediately to the man next to Laura, however, she crossed over to my other side, to the feisty woman’s date. She smiled at the man, who allowed himself an ever-so-slight smirk back as she led him by his tattooed arm past Laura and I and into the center of the couch, where the two men and two women were still sucking and licking. She removed a bottle of lube from a pocket somewhere in her outfit and poured a generous amount all over the tattooed man’s hard cock, making him squirm with pleasure as she did so. Her instruction to him was as simple as that of the rest.

“Fuck his ass,” she told the tattooed man, gesturing toward where James was already moaning as the young college boy took his cock in his mouth. I just barely had time to see the man wrap his tattooed arms around James’s waste and push, hearing the low guttural moans echoing once more though the room, before the scene disappeared behind a sea of flesh, as those closer to the tangle of bodies bent forward to get a better look.

At last, Mistress C stopped next to Laura. She smiled warmly at the curvy woman next to me, our flesh still touching slightly.

“My pet,” she cooed, “Stay here. You get to fuck me.”

Turning now to me, our hostess spoke again. “An easy pairing. You two.” She pointed at me, and then the tattooed girl next to me, and then departed with a woman’s arm in her grip, leading her to the middle.

“Hi,” I said, telling her my name.

“Kate,” replied the feisty girl. Great, I at least now had a name for her.

“So,” I said, hoping for something witty to say, and failing miserably. “Enjoying yourself so far?”

“Yes,” she replied, her tone quite conversational. Then, she leaned in close, as though forming a conspiracy. “I’ve never told anyone this,” she said, “but I always wanted to see my boyfriend fuck another man. Fuck, I can’t believe I just said that…I’m just going crazy here.”

“I know what you mean,” I said, looking down at my cock, which I realized at some point had grown to full attention again.

She smiled at me, glancing over to see that our hostess was busy adding yet another person to the center, this time a woman taking the young college boy’s cock in her mouth as he continued to suck the cock above him.

Kate’s hand reached out, subtly, and grabbed my cock, slowly and deliberately moving it back and forth over me. I nearly collapsed with pleasure, gasping as I was finally able to feel the ecstasy I had been craving all night. I could hear her own breath catch as she played with me, teasing me in her hand.

My mind raced back to the dream of weeks ago, the one that had preceded Laura’s call and invitation, and I moaned. This is what my dream had been like, all these naked bodies lined up, so aroused yet unable to seek pleasure for fear of our hostess’s reprisal, our bodies aching for release…

And then, at long last, Mistress C clicked her heels over to where we stood once more. She looked down, fastening a large dildo to the harness attached to her crotch as Laura still motionless, though the smell of her arousal betrayed her. Our hostess looked back and forth across those of us still standing, who had not yet been given permission to fulfill our desires, and spoke one last instruction.

“Begin.”

I would like to say that we all considered our surroundings, our conditions, and carefully discussed among ourselves the complications and concerns of what we were doing. I would be, however, completely and totally lying.

The buildup had simply been too much; we couldn’t contain ourselves any longer. I’d never seen so much raw sexuality in person before, and in that moment, I had no other thought than the mad, urgent desire to feel the woman beside me. Our skin pressed together instantly as I wrapped my hands around her short, dark hair, pulling her closer to me as our lips locked and our tongues began to intertwine.

Around me, I could feel other couples doing the same, their skin melting together like butter as our barely contained desires suddenly exploded into ecstasy. To my right, an unknown woman was already moaning in a frenzy. To my left, a man grunted wildly, and right before me, Kate’s entire body shivered under my touch.

I could feel her pushing me backwards, to the couch, where I allowed myself to be seated. The naked flesh standing before me, decorated with elaborate patterns of ink, proved intoxicating as she sat herself down upon my hardness, wasting no time with foreplay. It was then, I realized, that the first two phases of the evening were the foreplay. This was the pleasure, I knew, as Kate lowered herself onto me and I could feel myself sinking deeply into her, our lips meeting once more as my hands caressed her hips and lower back.

She rode me like that, slowly at first, so that we could savor the feeling of one another as we moved, my hips pushing upward in increasingly harder strokes, her own gyrating back and forth growing faster as we listened to the moans and screams around us.

My lips found her breasts, and I took one of them in my mouth, my tongue flicking across her nipple as we fucked one another harder. Her back began to arch, pulling her backwards as I held on to keep her from falling, and though I could no longer reach her breasts with my mouth, the look on her face-one of sheer lust-was more than enough to make up for it.

I looked past her just for a moment to see Laura on her hands and knees before our hostess, sucking on the woman’s substitute cock with a fever I hadn’t known possible. Laura was nearly choking on the dildo with every thrust, taking it deeper each time as Mistress C held her head, making sure she couldn’t back out too far.

And then, a shiver ran through my body as Mistress C smiled at me, and beckoned with her finger. I didn’t dare refuse, and so I whispered to Kate, and we disconnected, my cock still warm and dripping with her juices. As we approached, I saw Mistress C grab Laura by the hair, forcing her onto her hands and knees, facing us as she stood behind her new toy.

“My dears,” spoke our hostess as we reached her. “You do look like you are having so much fun. Why don’t you continue it, here in front of us? Kate-that is your name, isn’t it? Yes of course it is. Fall to your hands and knees, like my toy here, and face her. And you-” she pointed to me with a curved finger as her voice changed from sarcastically subtle to downright rich with deviousness. “Fuck her from behind. Hard.”

And so, we complied. Kate dropped to her hands and knees, facing Laura as I got on my knees behind her as well. I’ll admit, the hardness of the floor underneath my knees was not altogether pleasant, but under the circumstances, I barely noticed. Looking down at the woman before me, all I could think about was being inside her again, and wrapping my hands around her waist to pull her closer against me as I entered her more deeply.

That, I must say, is exactly what I did. I took her from behind just as our hostess took Laura, and the intake of breath from both of them was enough to drive me further into Kate’s wetness. I fucked her hard, as instructed, pressing my legs against hers as my body fell against her back, pressing into her as far as I could. I knew how deep I was, and wondered absently how Kate could take it, as most women would have groaned that it was too much, in my experience.

I was not about to complain. And neither was Laura, who was moaning ever more loudly with our hostess’s cock buried inside her. The look on her face drove me to take Kate even deeper, pressing into her with increasing animalistic ferocity as I noticed a sound coming from in front of me. The strapon, I realized, had a vibrator attached at the crotch, and our humble mistress had now joined the ranks of those moaning and squirming in pleasure as she continued to fuck Laura from behind.

I knew then that I was close. How could I not be, after all? Barely able to contain myself, yet knowing I should think of the pleasure of others, I reached around Kate with my fingers and found her clit, pressing my body right up against her as I circled her already engorged mound with my fingertips, wet with her juices. I couldn’t push into her quite as far at that angle, but she didn’t seem to mind as her moaning intensified to a barely controlled scream, echoed from in front of us.

The two women being fucked had their lips locked together, kissing one another as they came. Kate, from my fingers, and Laura from Mistress C’s able hands, who had apparently decided to echo my own motion and allow Laura her orgasm.

Feeling Kate shaking beneath me, I released my fingers from her pussy and grabbed her hips, pushing myself into her as hard as I could as I felt my own orgasm overtake me, my cum shooting so deeply inside her that she shook in surprise as her own orgasm subsided.

I looked upward, utterly spent, to see the commanding woman behind Laura also spent, and returned to her former self. Her hair clung to her forehead with sweat, and she was basking in the radiance of her pleasure. The wig hung slightly crooked on her head as she smiled at me, saying nothing. Around us, others were finding their own peaks, though some were already attempting (and enjoying) a second round.

Indeed, I looked down to see Kate had turned around and taken my cock in her mouth, licking and sucking at it gently, cleaning her juices off of me expertly. In the distance, Laura was smiling at me, and though she didn’t speak a word, I knew that look.

“I told you so.”

I know what you’re thinking, that Valentines Day is supposed to be about romance rather than about sheer lust, perversion, and domination at the hands of strangers. But for those of us who are single, even happily so, we must celebrate the day in other ways, or else risk the true spirit of the day pass us by. It was certainly a Valentine’s Day I would never forget, and I doubt anyone else who participated will either.

by RelentlessPerversion©

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