Sex For Sale

Now what was I going to do? The question struck to my core. For months, I had been making pretty good money selling adult novelties in people’s homes, much like Tupperware parties, except, well, not just anyone was invited. And this is what happens when you don’t know your hostess.

My husband, Steven, and I had needed some extra money, and a small article in our newspaper had piqued my interest. I’m sure Steven would admit that it piqued his as well. From Steven’s perspective, he lost weekend days and nights with me, but he gained by testing the wares and hearing my stories of women’s reactions during my demonstrations. And although I told my customers that all transactions were strictly confidential, I always shared with Steven what our friends and neighbors bought. It was wickedly fun and led to some good sex.

My first few jobs had been very difficult. The company I represented, although having a great product line, didn’t have a suggested list of people for me to call upon for home shows. So, that meant I had to start with my friends. This had been awkward in my somewhat conservative social circle, but, everyone enjoys sex… The sales got better, and pretty soon, I was into the third and fourth generation of shows from people who had attended my earlier ones. I learned that to sell my items, it was important to put the ladies at ease, and, at times, to non-provocatively demonstrate what the gadgets did, or how they were worn. The biggest selling point had been suggesting how the items could be used to surprise their husbands, to turn the humdrum of marital status quo into a night of fun and passion. The parties rarely got out of hand, and generally only when liquor was involved. But, polite or raunchy, I had learned how to make it fun. And besides, it was among girls, often with others much more open than I was about sharing my sex life with others.

It normally took one to two hours for “some show, more tell” of my various products. Then, I would retreat to a bedroom, where each of the women would enter to purchase their items privately, so that no one would know what she had purchased. I kept a stock of all the “toys,” but some sizes of lingerie I had to special order. But overall, my sample bag and boxes included what seemed to sell the most. Making $1,000 to $2,000 per show was quite nice, and it had recently begun to get very easy, almost second nature.

Women who chose their friends to attend such a non-conventional affair generally selected those who were either randy to begin with, or had a desire to be randy for a change. I had learned in idle conversation with my customers that the ones who spent the most money had told their spouses where they were going. Their “credit limits” were enthusiastically removed by their husbands as a result. Further, I encouraged the hostess to provide wine, which definitely seemed to soften inhibitions. Sales were steady, and steadily good. I just couldn’t let my mom or anyone else take a close look at all the cardboard boxes in my garage and basement. Yikes.

My “hostess,” Claire, who had sounded perfect over the phone, had said that she would invite a good sized crowd that she was sure would be interested in sex products. As I had driven to her home, her neighborhood had spoken of wealth, as did the cars in her driveway. But it was only after I had arrived that Claire explained that, after talking it over with her husband, that he had felt more comfortable inviting his friends than she did hers. Then she had picked up her purse, and headed out for dinner with the girls. The wives thought only that the men were getting together for their normal Saturday night college football game and maybe some cards.

Doing a show for men was definitely out of my “comfort zone,” and I had begun the evening…terrified. So much for confidence. There were seven men, with another expected to arrive. Beers were popping before Claire had made it to the door. To put it bluntly, I had the fear of being raped, as there was no way of escaping an atmosphere of “sex,” which, although not literally, was what I was selling. But the men’s good humor had won me over, at least enough to proceed, and several had seemed more interested in the football game. So, it all began more manageable than I had feared. I began with the basics: bra’s, panties, garters. There were general whoops and hollers as I held them up, explaining the colors and sizes available. I gave each man an order form which listed each item, so that they could check off those in which they were interested and make notes. I was pleased to see frequent pen movements.

I had to endure a few catcalls, as I held up a see-through body suit, or a bra with holes cut out at the nipples. They kept joking that they couldn’t make a decision without seeing the fit. Yeah, right. So, I played to the audience with suggestive talk, but leaving the goods to their own imaginations.

With the promise of a good sale, I had just wrapped up most of the clothing items and was just beginning the vibrator selection, when the men broke to refresh themselves. Meaning more beer. When they gathered again, the husband of the hostess, Lou, posed a question. “I’m very interested in what you’ve shown us, Hayley, and the prices seem reasonable. But, if we were to pay double your price, would you show us your products…more intimately? What about it, guys?” His question was met with an enthusiastic response from the others, apparently a collusion decided upon during our “break.” My first reaction was, “Yeah, right.” But…

My resolution faltered to my current dilemma. This job suddenly had the potential of paying a lot more than my usual 40% commission. But I couldn’t answer based solely on financial terms. If my husband found out… He had been thrilled to hear me recount each session of who bought what, but how would I explain this night? Think it through. They were asking me to model, but, a bra was a bra. Panties, garters…no big deal. Exposing my nipples in a cutout bra would be more fun than embarrassing. I think. But to model a vibrator would mean… No way! I wasn’t going to show my cunt to a bunch of strangers… Was I? But I just couldn’t! Could I? I realized that my cunt was primed. The words “thinking with my dick” quickly came to mind, but I shoved them aside, however appropriate they were for the wetness between my legs.

I had been looking at the floor while I had considered this, but as I raised my eyes, Lou saw that he had me. But he couldn’t “have” me. Yet, he did. The money was enticing, and so was the idea of showing a bunch of men my 38 C’s. Steven had hardly given me a compliment on my body in months, maybe a year. Yes, they had me, to a point. But rules were going to be necessary.

“Okay,” I allowed with a devilish grin, “but here’s the rules. First, I’m married. There will be NO sex.” I looked at each of them to see that this registered. “But, any product you’re interested in, I’ll demonstrate. But you agree to buy that item at twice the price. Further, I’ll start with an imprint of your credit cards, and we’ll record the sale BEFORE I demonstrate it. And, I’ll only pull three items from the bag at a time. They all have to sell before I pull out any more. When an item doesn’t sell, we stop.” Let them consider the expense…

Lou looked thoughtful and then countered, “That sounds fine, except, considering the price, we get to try the goods - we dress you, we get to,” he paused, considering, “TEST the vibrator in you, and whatever else you’ve got in the bag. But if we use it, we’ll buy it.”

A small voice withing me cried, “Nooooo!” But I wasn’t interested in listening to it. My hard nipples confirmed what my cunt was screaming at me. This was like a fantasy that I didn’t know I had. Control remained the issue. This could get out of hand, but, still… I wanted it. “Okay…BUT, you each have to line up your chairs at least 10′ away and stay there, except for the person buying the merchandise.” I could handle one on one.

Lou nodded. “Gentlemen?” There was general agreement. But I wasn’t going to start with the vibrators. I pulled the bag of clothes closer, that I had just showed them, and began by randomly pulling three items out of it. I could see that Lou, at least, appreciated the sales tactic in the move. “Okay, Hayley, we’ll start with the clothes. But there’s no dressing rooms here.”

Be still, my racing heart. I gave him my best come hither look, and replied saucily, “Obviously, assuming you’re brave enough to dress me.” My voice sounded much braver than I felt. I would normally have the hostess do most of the modeling, if any were needed, as part of her duties for the $200 worth, or 10%, of products that she could choose for inviting her friends, providing refreshments, etc. And it added to the fun when the ladies knew who it was that was modeling. So, I hadn’t come here prepared to be undressed. But, I suppose it doesn’t really matter, except that my plain bra and panties would show that I wasn’t practicing what I preached… The clothing was laid out, so I offered, “Who wants to be first?” Lou, of course. Approximately 45 years old and full of executive level confidence and swagger. He walked towards me and picked out a bustier. I had him record it on his sales sheet. It was a good thing I had given them pens. I wouldn’t want them erasing orders after this.

My skin began to feel hot as I turned my back to the men to undress. Shoes. Off. Blouse. Off. Skirt. What WAS I doing? Off. Panty hose. I need to remember to wear garters next time. I’m sure they’re disappointed. Next time? I’m getting way ahead of myself here. I reached back and unfastened my bra, noticing for the first time the silence in the room. Just the sounds of their suddenly heavy breathing and a faint football game in the background. This was, more or less, the pivotal point.

Looking over my shoulder, I made sure that everyone but Lou was still in their seats. They were. This was misunderstood as a tease, and they Said a few things that I could only imagine might be appropriate in a strip club. Then they got silent again, hoping, I suppose. Looking down at the top of my breasts, smooth and tan, I decided that I did want to tease them. I looked over my shoulder, smiled, and dropped my bra, which was followed by a chorus of cheers. Panties. I worked them off my hips and down my legs, my bare ass facing the men. I realized that by being the tease, I maintained control, or at least I hoped. But it kept them in their seats. So I wiggled my butt as I reached for the bustier.

“Forgetting something?” Lou stepped beside me, and slowly lowered himself to one knee, eye level with my cunt. The tease in me suddenly departed. I don’t know what shade I was, but I couldn’t imagine there was a brighter red in the universe. He held the bustier at my feet so that I could step into it. Thank goodness I was low on inventory on the ones that snapped in the crotch and hadn’t brought them. Then he rose, slowly, eyes level with the outfit as he raised it, eyeing my cunt closely as the outfit caught between my legs, then stretched over my abdomen, and finally, up to my 38C’s where he jiggled the cups just enough to cover my nipples, while briefly pinching one nipple between his fingers, the sly dog. He then turned me around to face the others while he zipped my back side, making the bustier fit closely to my form, and thrusting my breasts upward. I adjusted it slightly so that my breasts remained comfortably in.

Aside from my husband, I hadn’t been naked in front of another man, aside from doctors, since my college days, 14 years ago. I had forgotten over the years of my marriage those moments of embarrassment when a man sees me naked for the first time, which were followed by pangs of excitement as his eyes devoured my body, hungry for the gift I was giving to him. And while I wasn’t giving myself that way, Lou’s slow inventory of my body reminded me of the power the female form held over men. By comparison, his attention made my husband seem to take me for granted. THIS was a turn-on.

With great pleasure on his face, Lou said, “Ahem. I believe you were supposed to model also.” I took a breath and then walked closer to the men, struck a pose revealing my cleavage, turned around, and struck another pose. This sale was done. Forty, no. Eight dollars in the bag. The room became quiet again as I moved near the two remaining clothing items. Their faces were staring towards my crotch. With a glance downward, it was then that I noticed that I hadn’t shaved my cunt recently, and my brown hairs were peeking out liberally from both sides of the thin strip of material that “covered” my crotch. It couldn’t be helped now.

And so it was that we began working through the bag. I had repacked the bag randomly, so there was a mixture of provocative and, relatively, conservative clothing in each mix of 3 items. This became so much the case that they began bidding against each other for the more revealing outfits, and then had to take turns buying the plainer sets to spread the costs. And they were motivated to buy all the clothes so that they could get to the toys. However they split their purchases, it suited me. It totaled the same. One guy took out a cell phone and made a phone call before I could stop him, so I requested that we not invite anyone else. Those that were here or due to arrive was as much, and I hoped not more, than I could handle.

There was no doubt that they had to be getting more satisfaction here than at a strip club. As they took their turns, their hands covered me from my feet to my neck, and each man had seen all that there was of me, so the more exotic outfits became easier to try on. The shyness melted, although I felt unusually conspicuous among a group of fully dressed men.

But after the first few men, it didn’t matter if they saw my nipples through a bra, or all of my body through a see through body suit. Besides, It became clear that buying the merchandise was an excuse just to grab a feel. I was unnerved at first, but being desired by a group of men was a feeling that, I had to admit, was…delicious. So I playfully reprimanded them when they grabbed a tit, or slid a finger between my legs when pulling up panty hose. Limitations had been set, although it was unnerving to hear a man talk about how wet his finger was after briefly touching my sex. And it was true. I just couldn’t let them know how good that brief touch felt, and it was a struggle to keep my body from shivering in response.

The last outfit was the plainest, a simple bra and panty set. Blue satin, with revealing cuts, but not uncomfortable to wear. As if that would even occur to them. My nervousness wasn’t extreme, however. The men had kept to the rules. And besides that, they were having a good time, and were generally acting…nicely.

As I moved the two toy boxes to the table, I realized just what lay within. They didn’t. I hadn’t paid attention to the what they were discussing, but then Lou spoke up. “Hayley, instead of you setting the items out, how about we take turns and grab something from the bag, which we will buy.” That seemed reasonable, and it would avoid their debating who was going to buy what. That would speed things up, maybe, and everything depended on me keeping control of my responses. And I my cunt spoke loudly of what it wanted.

Lou went first, and seeing what he had chosen, furrowed his eyebrows. This was a sale that his wife would probably never see. I hoped the $50 was worth the experience. I curled my finger to bring him towards me, and asked him to remove my bra, which he did, gladly. I opened the box of what was called a nipple enlarger. I had tried it once, and it didn’t do much for me. It included small rubber rings and a hand pump. “Place the rubber ring on the long throat of the pump.” He did. The rubber ring was tight against the throat and, he couldn’t move it far. I guided his hand to my breast, and placed the suction end of the pump around my nipple and firmly against my breast. “Start squeezing, slowly.”

Of course, when I had tried it, I was alone and was nowhere close to turned on. As my nipple was drawn into the tube, the sensation was exquisite. My nipples are normally about 3/8″ long, but after a few squeezes, the length doubled as it was drawn inside the tube. It was hard to speak. “Okay. Be careful not to break the seal, and move rubber ring off the end.” He understood, and just as he moved it off the end and onto my nipple, he gave the pump a hard squeeze. My mouth just hung open as the sensations took the interstate from my nipple to my cunt. My nipple was red, long, and caught in an exquisite pinch by the rubber ring. As I regained some composure, I realized that Lou was starting on my other nipple, which ended with a similar result.

Lou was smiling. I was hoping he was happy, because he now owned it. Another of the men asked a question, which came to me through a clearing fog. Kevin, that was it. “Other than a torture device,” everyone laughed, “why would someone want that?” Fair question. I reached for my blouse and put it on. “It’s generally for women with smaller nipples that want to show a little something through their shirt. As I looked down at my exaggerated nipples poking into the shirt, I added, “In this case, it could be used if a woman wanted to look promiscuous or obscene.” They nodded some understanding. But perhaps there were some more sales here. “Just imagine if your wife met you at a restaurant or a bar like this…” The thought carried to their imaginations, and Kevin, at least, made a mark with his pen.

The sensations had ended with what I presumed to be numbness. Then Lou asked, with a greedy smile, “And how do we get them off?” I rolled my eyes and held his hands. “Carefully,” I replied. I placed his left hand around my breast to hold it against the pulling action required to roll the ring off. He understood, and after adjusting his hand unnecessarily on my breast, he began working the ring off. The sensations once again flowed as the blood returned to my nipple. Soon, both were on fire and bright fiery red.

Lou returned to his seat, and Max, probably in his late 20’s and the shyest of the bunch, took his turn. Bad luck on my part. Nipple rings, but at least they weren’t the clamps. He grinned as he opened the box. The rings had two small balls on their ends which touched to form the circle. The rings had been formed to compress at these points, and Max approached my breasts. They didn’t grip tightly, but as sensitive as I was, they didn’t feel particularly good. He played with them briefly before all but jerking them off. “Owwww!” escaped my lips. The shy one had a mean streak, or maybe he just didn’t know any better. Max apologized, I think sincerely, as he retreated to his seat. He looked happy with his purchase, but it wasn’t worth the $25 I was going to get.

Morgan was next. He had been pretty quiet, but funny when he spoke. About my age and attractive. Shoot, they were all attractive, but at the moment, they were attracted to me. My ego soared. Regular exercise for a mother of two had been well worth it. He reached into the other box, and pulled out the item that I was probably most afraid of. Thigh/wrist cuffs. I had to give a reminder. “All right gentlemen. Remember the agreement. You stay in your seats.”

Morgan had already opened the box, seen the picture on the cover and was fastening a Velcro fabric around my thigh. Then he did the other. I was standing, so he moved my right arm to my thigh, and fastened it with another Velcro loop that was attached. Then he did the other arm. I couldn’t move, and I didn’t like the loss of control. Morgan stepped behind me and commented to the group, “I guess that’s what bondage is about. Once you tie her up, you can have your way with her.” As he said this, he reached around and grabbed both of my breasts, enjoying the handfuls. Then he said, “I think I’ll enjoy these,” and undid my arms. Whew. That could have turned out…how? I didn’t want to get fucked by almost strangers. Marital commitment, disease possibilities, and…no birth control! It hadn’t dawned on me about that. I had just recently had my diaphragm removed when my husband had gotten fixed. I had to stay in control, of them and myself.

“Very nice,” said Yvette, softly touching the smooth mons, then letting her finger trail discretely along the slit just above Alicia’s clitoris before abruptly moving away. “Yes, very smooth. Maybe you can do me later?”

Was she joking or being serious? Alicia was unsure. What she was positive about, despite the beetroot red she had gone with sudden embarrassment as the enormity of the step taken suddenly sunk in, was the tingling between her legs from that simple touch. She felt her labia moisten, aware of her own scent but also of another, that of Yvette.

“Right,” said Yvette abruptly, sensing the mixed feelings her new partner was experiencing, “we need to get on with the cleaning now we have nothing that can get marked. Follow me.”

So for another hour they worked hard, chatted and then finally stopped for a drink, whilst all the time they were completely nude. Neither commented on this but each took any opportunity they could to visually explore the other.

“Here Alicia,” said Yvette, gesturing at a large rattan armchair. “Come sit down and talk for a while. I hope that this iced ready-mixed Pimms is OK?”

“Phew, thanks.”

Alicia sat in the chair opposite her new friend. She didn’t know why but they had clicked as buddies so quickly and now she found that just looking at Yvette left her hungry with desire. So much lust was generated in her that she deliberately sat with her thighs apart, hoping her host would see the wetness on her full labia and the erect clitoris that had not been hidden behind its hood for almost all of the past 60 minutes.

Now she was settled down, comfortable in the silent eroticism that surrounded them both, Alicia just let her eyes do their blatant exploring. She looked at Yvette’s glistening open pussy then let her gaze travel up. Her cleaning partner’s breasts heaved with obvious desire, the nipples large and wide, stiff and inviting to be touched. Blue eyes met Yvette’s green.

Silence.

If they had been older, they would have realised that they had created a scene reminiscent of an old soft porn movie, Emmanuelle. They did not have the hanging rattan chairs, nor were they masturbating in front of each other, but their nakedness and curiosity had all the ingredients to make this their own pornographic encounter. What talk did they need? Alicia knew they both wanted to act, but somehow neither could take the first step.

“Hello!” came the call from the poolside. “Hello!”

It was Dianne, walking towards them and now wearing a skimpy bright blue bikini. Her body was magnificent for a woman of her age. Her long legs, flat tummy and full breasts were so well complemented by the cut of the swimsuit that cupped, hugged and covered in ways some might find more erotic than full nudity. Even Alicia, who’d seen her mother naked and clothed in many situations and configurations, was impressed by how the person who had nurtured her for the past eighteen years looked. There was a glow about her.

“Hi! We’re in here,” called Yvette, ignoring Alicia’s sudden pleas that they should get some clothes on before opening the door. In her eyes the magic was broken. She was sure her mother would disapprove and be shocked no matter what her own private history was like.

Dianne came in to the room, staring first at her daughter and then for what Alicia felt was an inappropriately long time at Yvette. She found herself suddenly feeling jealous and stood up, placing herself between the two women.

“Hi mom,” she said, speaking rapidly and with some embarrassment. “Do you like our new maid’s outfits?” she added, curtseying, trying to laugh it off. “We got so hot trying to make beds wearing our clothes, and I’d brought the wrong things and…”

“No need to explain. We are all women here,” she replied calmly, though her chest was rising and falling rapidly and she could feel her juice begin to flow into her gusset. “Is everything ready now?”

“Yes, I think so,” said Yvette, now standing to Alicia’s right, her hand lightly pressing into the small of her friend’s naked back and her fingers stroking the tops of her buttocks. Both quite tall for women, Alicia’s right breast brushed enticingly against Yvette’s left. They had subconsciously moved so close to each other. Dianne did not fail to notice. She felt the hardening in her nipples and knew she would have to go and swim to hide the patch of damp in her crotch.

“Good. Alicia, be a dear and get my cases from the car? It’s not locked. We are using this pool house for the weekend”

“Ok, I’ll just go and put some clothes on.”

“No,” Dianne replied, almost too quickly. “No,” she said quietly, calming herself, “stay naked. The poolman is gay so he is not going to be interested, and there is no need to dress until about 6 O’clock when the guests arrive. You can stay here with Yvette then until it’s over or come join us and serve, though if you do you will be in for a shock.”

“What do you mean?” Alicia asked, clearly not in the know about the bet.

“Do you mean she’s going to do it?” asked Yvette, open-mouthed.

“I am too, darling,” replied Dianne, now calm and sedate as she spoke; secretly excited now by the prospect to be whom she always was - an exhibitionist.

“Wow!”

“Yvette? Mom? What are you talking about?”

“Yvette, tell her as you help her with my bags will you? I’m just going to cool off.”

The swinging hips that left to dive into the pool sent goosebumps of desire through Yvette. She realised her ‘bi-radar’ was on maximum. Now she was fantasising about having mother and daughter, especially after seeing her own mom so smitten with this lovely woman. If only she had known that as Dianne swam the first length, so she too was thinking how she might engineer something involving both Chloe and Yvette. Old habits were resurfacing. It was Andrew who would be the obstacle. He may have fucked the boss, but he was so controlling now about what she was able to do. Well, tonight he would have no choice.

“The fucking hypocrite!” she said, to no one in particular; though the pool man looked up from his final task, having heard that same accusation from Angelo, his lover, that very morning. He was itching to get home quickly and sort the argument. Being surrounded by naked and semi-naked women did not help, given what he had just discovered about himself. He hoped that they did not notice the erection that was straining in his shorts. Then he heard the scream of laughter from the direction of the garages.

“No?”

“You kidding me?”

“No, I am not kidding you,” said Yvette. “Your mom and mine are going to serve the guests stark staring naked. If they were men it would be’ bollock naked’ but ‘cunt naked’ doesn’t sound right.” She was giggling, though secretly she felt she would like to join them and serve too. If she had asked, she would have found for all Alicia’s alleged ’shock’ her thoughts were on the same path. Instead, she ordered, “Here, hand me that case.”

_____________________________________

It was 5.30pm and all four women were dressed in their finest clothes. Chloe had on a long flowing dress of light green silk, to match her stunning bright green eyes. It was bought on her last trip to Hong Kong and was designed to caress the body, hugging to every curve, crevice and peak. The top was halter style, with a deep cut back to reveal her perfect bone structure and stopped just at the top of her buttocks. There was no room for underwear, being designed for its sensuality and coolness in the heat of the South’s hot summers. She felt naked already, the sensation she needed to steel her for the task ahead. Even her shoes were chosen to be as light and unimpeding as possible. They were from Jimmy Choo’s, had cost her more than the dress and were green, with fine strands of the softest leather holding her delicate feet.

Dianne too had also chosen a halternecked dress. It was in black and by Gucci, with golden sequins in vertical lines that followed and emphasised her curves. It had cost her $5000 and she knew she was probably only going to wear it for at least an hour, but she was here to impress Chloe, not the other guests. Blue precious stones adorned her ears, cascading on white gold threads, and matched perfectly to her eye colour. Her hair was flowing across her naked shoulders, dark and beautiful. Suicide heels in matching jet black, with tiny details of gold completed the outfit.

“Wow!” Was all Chloe could say. She wanted to fuck her there and then. They had made love so many times that day, finding excuses and leaving the girls with a variety of chores. The sight of the two of them roaming naked had lead the two women to do the same, so temptation had become harder. It was only when the caterers arrived that there was a mad dash to dress in housecoats, get the food out, pay and dismiss the suppliers, and then strip off as quickly as possible again!

Whilst dressing, Yvette had become deeply conscious that she was the only one of the four left with any hair on her cunt. Suddenly she felt odd and asked Alicia to shave her. That had turned into a glorious, heavy petting session, though not full sex. Something was still not right for that, so she had then chosen her outfit with her.

“What about this?”

It was a pink, floaty dress with a deep slit up the thigh. Her long tanned legs looked so good against the frilled pink satin. Her breasts she had moulded into a long strapless and yet plunging bra, that made them spill out; framed by the low décolletage of the dress. She chose to ignore panties, finding the brassiere necessary because of her large bosom but below looked better without any sign of lines and felt wonderful depilated. Her shoes were in gold, bought when with her mother, and the most expensive she had ever had at $700 but she felt fabulous wearing them.

“How beautiful you look!” exclaimed Chloe as Yvette joined Dianne and her mother in the hall. “Where is Alicia?”

“Yes, where is my daughter?”

“She will be here any…”

“Hi everyone,” Alicia said cheerily as she entered gracefully the large entrance hall.

“Well, I said, ‘wow’ when I saw your mother but now Dianne you seem to have one stunning rival,” Chloe exclaimed, struggling to hide the lust that seemed to be overtaking her body and mind as she stared at the beautiful young woman walking towards them.

Alicia’s blue eyes glinted under the chandelier that dominated the hall’s ceiling. She was dressed in a long mauve dress with a slit that ran up the front of her left leg, ending only just below the tops of her thighs. There was a glimpse of tiny gold panties each time she took a step. The bodice plunged dangerously and it was clear that only two fine gold chains stopped her breasts from spilling out as they swung free under the fine silk. On her feet were black strappy shoes with a gold inlaid decorative strap across her carefully pedicured and delicate toes.

Yvette had seen the finished product earlier but was still struggling to stop herself dripping more juice down her legs. Just one long hug before leaving the pool house to cross to the main building had sent her rushing to find tissues and wipe her smooth sex of the telltale fluid. If she had only known how Alicia was feeling, from pure sexual desire to a sense of power that she could have such an impact and create that lust. This was to be a critical moment in her developing sexuality.

The four women stood, waiting silently. There was an unmistakeable charge of sexual energy running between them, giving an aura to the hallway. Each was caught up in their thoughts about the night. Chloe was feeling both an urgency to break away from her label of ‘prude’ but also scared of whether she could go through with it, no matter how much she loved her husband.

Dianne was hungry to be herself again and give up the shackles Andrew had imposed on her, despite his bisexual transgressions (she suspected the Chairman was not the first for all his protestations), but was also aware she had a responsibility to her lover to not push Chloe to do something for which she was unready.

Yvette was hungry too, but for Dianne’s daughter and wondering how best to take the next steps. They had heavy petted but it had only been with hands, not mouths on cunts or pussies grinding together. Again, she felt a responsibility not to push too hard but equally wanted her desperately.

Alicia was wondering why Yvette was hanging back. What else did she need to do to show her that she was ready and wanted her to go much further? She had shaved her, given her heavy hints about using toys, even kissed her lightly on the labia when she cleaned off the shaving gel and yet Yvette had not asked her to continue, pushed her head hard onto her cunt or taken charge in any way. Wasn’t Yvette meant to be the dominant one since she started this with her exhibitionism in the pool house? She did not know the conventions, but at this moment in time all she could think about was sliding her hand inside that split dress and driving two fingers into her friend’s cunt whilst kissing madly that full bosom. It was raw and urgent but she wanted to do it so much. Discovering her bisexuality now left her with confusion about the conventions, if there were any. What was holding them back?

Then the silence was broken as the first of the limousines arrived up the long drive. There was no time to be distracted by their thoughts any more as their 30 or so guests needed meeting, greeting and serving prior to the main meal.

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The Chairman was the last to arrive, accompanied by his stunning Puerto Rican wife, Maria. She stood silently, smiling. He made no bones about telling everyone that he had saved her from a bordello in Miami when on a fishing trip with some friends. They had been ten days out at sea and caught hardly anything other than the sun and one small shark that they kept for bait. So, they had come back to Miami looking for some excitement and the Chair had suggested they look for a BDSM club.

Maria Delores Garcia had been strung up in the lobby, naked and covered in clothespegs. Each new guest had been invited to add a peg anywhere they wanted. He liked to boast in front of her how he had attached a really strong one to her clitoris, sending her into paroxysms of screaming and kicking. When he recalled this tale at dinners or to guest parties, she would turn to him on cue and kiss him passionately in front of whoever happened to be there whilst rubbing her hand over his ample genitals. Then, as her apparent reward, he would tell her to choose any man or woman whom she thought would be able to satisfy her desires. He would laugh mockingly and arrogantly at her, claiming no one but he could give her the pain and suffering that she needed so badly. He claimed his rescuing of her was an added sadistic thrill because now she was as a submissive denied the regular punishment the bordello offered.

Chloe knew him to be a dangerous man, quick to test people, and just as fast in dismissing them from both his social group and the Company. He was a sadistic bully, a tyrant who had built his empire on the backs of others’ labour, but she was to be his hostess so walked up to him, head high and with as much grace as she could muster.

“Mr Chairman, how lovely to see you and your gorgeous wife,” she said, outstretching her hand and curtseying slightly to offer him reverent respect, as well as a good view of her abundant cleavage. She knew his tastes well. Dianne had briefed her that afternoon.

“Hello Chloe, so lovely to see you too, though I have to say you are wearing far, far too much for my liking,” he replied, laughing sneeringly but holding her hand gently and giving the palm a sensual rub with his middle finger that sent a ripple of pleasure through his hostess’s body. She flushed, on the one hand annoyed at his attempt to humiliate but at the same time aroused by his touch. “Oh I am sure I can remedy that with the correct agreements later,” she countered serenely. “I have heard of your bet, but would look for some assurances before meeting your,” and she stopped, putting her mouth conspiratorially close to his ear,”desires.”

The Chairman was momentarily thrown by the sensuality of the soft breath of air and the word ‘desires’ that danced over his ear. He felt his cock stir; already honed by the felatio he had ordered Maria to give him en route. She was now next to him holding that cum in her mouth on his orders, unable to swallow or speak until he commanded.

“Maria, your husband is so forward isn’t he?”

“She cannot speak. Should I tell them why, Maria?”

The Latino woman’s eyes darted a look at him of intense pleading. Chloe felt for her. She was being commanded by this man who at once was brute and saviour, sensualist and sadist, all in one. A dangerous person Dianne had said who was best met with strength and unexpected daring.

“I will tell you Chloe. She has been sucking off my cock in the car and now her mouth is full of cum. She knows it is rude to speak with her mouth full and I have ordered her to not swallow and waste it.”

“Then there is only one thing to do if she is to speak to me,” responded Chloe.

She heard herself say it, and then watched herself do it as if from afar. She walked up to Maria, took her face in her hands, put her own lips to the young woman’s beautiful lips and prised them apart with her tongue, forcing it into her mouth. She felt the slimy, slightly bitter liquid transfer as she tipped Maria’s head down, having knelt before her shorter guest to receive the sperm by gravity. Then Chloe swallowed, letting it slide into her own throat, not a little aroused by this act; something she loved to do with Tom, when her prudery and flashbacks of childhood guilt didn’t make her recoil. Then the two women continued to kiss, allowing Chloe to remove all traces of cum with her tongue and taste the lips of this most beautiful woman. She sensed Maria wanted her, increasing her own feeling of power. Then they broke apart, as if on an unspoken cue.

The Chairman stood there dumbstruck. This was no weak, mealy mouthed woman as others had described her to him. He was impressed and deeply challenged by her strength. He had to break her. It was his mission. His cock sprung up, achingly high in his boxers, obvious against the light trousers of his dinner suit.

Chloe deliberately wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, smearing her newly applied lipstick that blended with Maria’s residue of make-up and drips of cum that had hung to her chin. Her eyes never left his as she asked,

“Maria, how are you?”

“I am fine, Chloe,” was the breathless reply.

Maria could not believe what had happened or the strength of this woman whom all the way in the car her husband had been backbiting about. He had said he would get her naked but not give them the money or the board position. She hated his cruelty, but then needed its power when used on her.

“Good,” she replied, at last breaking gaze with the Chairman, and gesturing them to join the other guests. “Tom will be back in another hour, something about the programme not running to type in the lab.”

“I bet!” said the Chairman, his hand insinuating itself into the back of Chloe’s dress and feeling pleased at correctly assessing she had no panties on. She did not react immediately so he kept it there, testing her.

“What do you mean by that sir?” Chloe asked, as unemotionally as she could, while backing slightly onto his hand to entice him and urge him to speak.

“Haven’t you seen his two new assistants? He has a beautiful Chinese woman working for him now. I bet he’s fucking her like a bunny right this minute. I saw his eyes undress her in the meeting the other day and there seemed to be something between them,” he said intent on getting a reaction, hopefully of jealousy. He went on, “and she wears shorter and shorter skirts in the lab. Why, I’ll be able to see what colour knickers she has on soon,” he said in a mocking and loud voice. “Her tits can’t match yours though.”