Alyth enchained

My friend Alyth, who still asserts that she’s ‘one hundred percent straight’, seems determined to explore the limits of her bi-curiosity. Her girlfriend (‘She’s not my girlfriend!’) Tina persuaded her to accompany her to a private party on Saturday night. Alyth showed me the invitation today. Written on the glossy black background in large golden calligraphy was High Heels, Hold-Ups and Handcuffs with a telephone number printed underneath.

‘Very enigmatic,’ I said. ‘I’ve never heard of it.’

‘Well, no, you wouldn’t have. It’s invitation only, and you’re not supposed to talk about it. First rule of Fight Club, and all that.’

‘So why are you telling me?’ And, by extension, the rest of the world. She knew I wouldn’t be able to resist writing about it here.

‘Oh, I don’t plan on doing it ever again, but it was definitely worth doing once.’

‘So what was it?’

‘A lesbian D/s dinner party. I think you can guess what I was wearing.’

‘Ah, I think so.’

‘And nothing else. Me and all the subs. The dommes were wearing formal dinner suits. It was like a posh, sexy version of a vicar and tarts party. And the setting was fantastic, one of those castles in the country they use for weddings during the summer.’

‘Somehow I can’t imagine you as a submissive.’

‘Well, I’m not usually. Tina said I could choose, and I knew I’d be terrified going as a domme. Wouldn’t have a clue what to do. As a sub, I could just relax and follow orders. Although I can’t say I ever relaxed. Took me half an hour to stop feeling like a fraud and a pervert.’

‘Were there lots of people there?’

‘Over a hundred, and quite a range of ages. I must have been one of the youngest. One couple – they were really sweet, but they were both older than my gran. Most were in their thirties or forties, and some were seriously gorgeous, like supermodels.’

‘So what happened? Was it just dinner?’

‘Hah! Dinner was just the start, and since my wrists were chained behind me the whole night I was being fed by hand, Tina pushing chocolate-dipped strawberries into my mouth, and making me lick her fingers clean before playing with me under the table. And I wasn’t the only slave girl panting in pleasure while her owner teased her. Very soon you stop caring that you’re being watched by dozens of people, you just want those fingers to stop teasing and get properly busy.

‘Anyway, that was the main course.’

‘Strawberries in chocolate were the main course? What was for dessert?’

Alyth laughed. ‘Let’s just say I ate more pussy in that one night than I’m likely to see in the rest of my life.’

About Frank

A Sci-Fi & Fantasy author and lyrical poet with a mild obsession for vampires, succubi, goddesses and Supergirl.
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