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Please, Master(6)

By:Opal Carew

Her door opened and he took her hand. She stepped out and followed him. Her heels clacked on a tiled or marble floor and she could hear people around them. A ding sounded and he stopped.

“We're in the elevator.”

She heard the doors close behind her.

“It's just the two of us.”

She wanted to ask if she could take off the blindfold yet, but she held back. He was in control.

The doors whooshed open and he took her arm and led her along. After a few moments, he stopped, then a door opened and he led her inside. Somewhere.

“We're here. And I'm sure you want to ask if you can take off the blindfold now, but the answer is no.”

She clung to his arm. “Are we alone?” she asked softly.


She tightened her hold on him, leaning in close to his body.

“There is another man here.” He drew the shawl from her shoulders.

She tensed, knowing the other man now saw her in this dress that barely hid anything of her naked body.

“Who is it?” she asked in a hushed voice.

“It doesn't matter. I just thought if we were going to go dancing, you might like to dance with someone other than just me.”

He lifted her hand and pressed a glass into it. “But first, a glass of champagne.”

She sipped. The bubbles tickled as they went down. She sipped again.

Music started playing and Mr. King pressed his hand to her back. “Finish that up and we'll dance.”

She tipped it back, then held out the empty glass. It disappeared from her fingers and he drew her into his arms. They floated around the dance floor to the soft, swaying music. It was nice being in Mr. King's arms, their bodies moving together.

The song ended and another began. Slow and sultry. She felt a quiver down her spine as she felt a presence behind her. Mr. King drew back and turned her around.

The other man's hand enveloped hers and he drew her close to his body. She rested her hand on his shoulder as he flattened a hand on her lower back, drawing her close. With a sure grip, he moved her around the floor. Slowly. His hard, broad body tight to hers.

She followed him breathlessly, her feet moving, her head spinning. Breathing in his cologne—musky and familiar.

It couldn't be. Surely Mr. King wouldn't allow it.

The song ended and the man tipped up her chin. As soon as his lips claimed hers, she knew. Her heart pounded and she felt her knees grow weak.

His mouth drew away.

“Mr. Grant?” she asked in a breathless whisper.

She could sense his smile. His lips brushed hers again, but he didn't answer. The music continued and he turned her around then drew her tight again, her back to him now, and danced with her facing away from him. His hands cupped her breasts. The nipples surged forward into his palms and she rested her had back against his shoulder as they moved to the slow music. When the song ended, he stopped.

“I thought this would be a nice surprise for you birthday,” Mr. King said, now standing in front of her. His hands wrapped around her hips—Mr. Grant's still covered her breasts—and he stroked down her stomach. Then one hand cupped her mound through the fabric. He pushed it between her legs and his fingers dipped into her. She could feel the slickness as his fingertips stroked her.

“You're wet for us.” His hand moved away. “I can see it on your dress.”

Mr. King took her hand and led her across the dance floor. Mr. Grant's hands withdrew from her body, but she could feel his presence behind her. A door opened and then closed behind them. Was he walking her down a public hallway, with a damp spot on her dress showing her arousal to the world?

“We're in a bedroom now,” Mr. King said. “Just the three of us.”

She felt his fingers on her shoulders as he pushed the straps of the dress to the edges of her shoulders. Then the slinky garment simply fell away.

She now stood in front of them wearing only her stiletto heels, gloves, and the rhinestone slave collar.

Then hands started touching her. Stroking her back. Her hips. Cupping her breasts.

She felt herself lowered down, then the bed compress under her back. Lips brushed her nipple. A hand stroked her inner thigh, then over her wet folds.

“Oh, yes.” It was heaven, being touched by both these men. She didn't know whose hands were whose. Whose lips were whose. But she loved every touch.

A mouth pressed against her lower stomach, then shifted lower. The tongue darted out and lapped at her clit. She moaned as she ran her gloved fingers through his hair. The other mouth suckled her nipple while four hands wandered over her body, pressing… squeezing… caressing.

She quivered with need, longing for their hard cocks to fill her up.

They must have known because the men slipped away and she heard clothing hit the floor. Something hard and hot brushed her lips and she opened. The cockhead spread her lips as it pushed into her mouth. She sucked, loving the hard flesh inside her. She wrapped her gloved hand around it and stroked up and down. She heard a male groan in response. Then the cockhead pulled from her mouth and another brushed against her. She took that one in and wrapped her other hand around it, stroking it, too.

The men took turns gliding their cocks into her mouth, pushing deeper each time until she was taking them down her throat. She could hear their labored breathing and was delighted she was giving them pleasure.

“Enough,” Mr. King said.

The cock in her mouth pulled back and both glided from her hands. She felt the blindfold slip away and she blinked. In front of her stood Mr. King and Mr. Grant, both naked.

Her gaze shifted to Mr. Grant, the sight of him making her heart swell. She longed to stroke her fingers through his dark wavy hair, then run her fingertips down his cheek to his square jaw. She wanted him to capture her lips with his firm mouth and drive his tongue deep into her.

Her focus shifted to his enormous, pulsing cock pointed straight at her and her insides ached for the feel of it inside her.

“I want to watch Mr. Grant fuck you, but not on the bed.” Mr. King took her hand and pulled her to her feet, then guided her to the ornate, cream dresser. “Lean back against it.”

Mr. Grant stepped in front of her, his steel-blue eyes full of molten desire. His big cock brushed against her slick opening, making her heartbeat accelerate.

His arm slid around her waist and he glided his hot tip over her slick slit. Her heart pounded and she felt faint from the joy of knowing she would soon be filled by the man she loved.

As he pushed his cockhead into her, Mr. King cupped her cheek and turned her head, forcing her to look at him. He watched her face as Mr. Grant's cock slid deep into her.

Once he was all the way in, Mr. King stared at her with dark, inscrutable eyes.

“Do you like his big cock inside you?”

“Yes, Master,” she murmured, her words breathless.

His gaze never leaving her, he said, “Fuck her, Grant.”

Mr. Grant drew back then drove deep into her. Mr. King kept watching her, their gazes locked as Mr. Grant thrust. Again and again. He lifted one of her legs, opening her more to him and drove even deeper inside her. She sucked in air.

Mr. King's gaze intensified.

He took her hand and wrapped it around his cock. She squeezed him as Mr. Grant kept fucking her, stroking him in rhythm with Mr. Grant's thrusts.

Mr. Grant pulsed inside her and she knew he wouldn't last much longer. Pleasure welled inside her, pumping through her with every one of his thrusts, crackling along her nerve endings like she was an exposed high tension wire.

She sucked in air, riding the rising wave.

“Are you close to coming?” Mr. King asked.

“Yes,” she exhaled.

His fingers glided around her head and his face lowered to hers. His mouth consumed hers, his tongue driving into her mouth as Mr. Grant drove into her body. She felt the rush of bliss, pulsing through her in waves and as the orgasm blossomed through her, she moaned into Mr. King's mouth. He pulled her harder against him, breathing in her moan, then pulsing his tongue into her as he grasped her hand and guided it in faster strokes.

Mr. Grant groaned, then erupted inside her, filling her with his hot seed. Then she felt Mr. King's cock pulse in her hand and heat splashed across her hip. Pleasure continued washing through her at Mr. Grant's continued thrusts.

He slowed and her orgasm waned, like the fading light of the golden sunset shimmering in the window.

Mr. King released her mouth, then drew back. She gazed at Mr. Grant. The look of continued longing in his eyes tore at her heart. He tightened his arms around her and claimed her mouth, his tongue sweeping inside.

Then he released her and stepped back.

Her heart ached at his withdrawal. He picked up his clothes and pulled on his pants.

She stared at Mr. King with wide eyes. “Is this the end of my celebration?”

“No. You and I have all night here.”

“But Mr. Grant? Does he have to leave now?”

Mr. King frowned, and she knew he was unhappy at her question, but she didn't want her time with Mr. Grant to end yet.

She knelt at Mr. King's feet. “Master, you've given me this wonderful gift of being with Mr. Grant again and I am truly grateful. But, please, give me a little more time with him.”

She was desperate to make it last as long as possible. She didn't know if she would ever see him again and she didn't want to think about the unbearable pain of that.

Mr. Grant paused, watching the two of them. Mr. King frowned, staring down at her.

She took his hand and kissed it. “Please, Master.”