I walk out of the room, slipping my earrings on, and smile at you. You give me a quick glance then a slow look. Up – tall heels, smooth legs, a black cocktail dress, and sleek hair – and down, taking in the details. I spin so you can see the low back of the dress. Not so low that it’s scandalous but enough to be sexy.
It’s the first holiday party of the season – a work event. You’ve agreed to come and walk that fine line of being in a D/s dynamic but showing nothing but professionalism around other people.
You beckon me over and I come in for a quick hug. It turns to a kiss and your hands roaming over the dress. It’s been days since we’ve fucked and we’re both craving it badly. Your hands slip under the dress and meet…straps? You pull back and look at me. “A harness? Really?”
I smirk and pull the dress up to show you a garter set I picked out just for this event. Matching panties and bra complete the look in a red that’s perfect for the season. You groan, rub your hand down your face, and tell me to kneel on the couch facing away from you.
You pull your half-hard cock out of your dress pants and rub against me as you say “Beg”. I’m flustered and caught off guard in the best way – I dressed for exactly this but didn’t know it would be before the event. But I put on my sweetest voice and say “Please, Daddy? May I please have your cock in me? It’s been too long and I need to be filled by you.”
That earns me a gentle slap on the ass and hard hands grabbing my hips. Now you’re grinding against my ass and I’m starting to moan, feeling how wet I am for you. How desperate. How needy. You groan again as I start to beg in earnest.
Finally – finally – you slip my panties aside, place a hand at the nape of my neck, and promise to fuck me into the couch and make me yours all over again. All I can say at this point is please.
You slide into me as I hiss – no matter how ready for you I am, it’s always a stretch. Knowing this, you give me a minute to adjust while checking the time. We have to leave in 10 minutes. You fuck me slowly, unhurriedly, even as I ask for more. But it’s not until you judge I’m desperate enough to truly let go that you step up the pace. Less a smooth glide in and out of my pussy and more a true fucking. It’s hard and sloppy and you’re whispering filthy things in my ear as I devolve into whimpers and moans.
You rub my clit as I come, chanting your title over and over, and you follow a minute later. You hold my hips in a tight grip as you cum, only letting go once you’ve shot as much into me as you can. I look over my shoulder with a sleepy smile and thank you. You bend forward, give me a kiss, and pull my underwear off before setting your outfit to rights.
I look at you, confused, and hold my hand out for my panties. But you get an evil grin on your face and tell me that I’m not getting them back. “But…I’m going to need them in about 10 minutes,” I say. You smirk again and tell me to just be careful. After all, you know how much it turns me on to be leaking cum. And in a public space while I have to be the Good Corporate Worker (TM)? That contrast will drive me wild.
And it does. We go through the party, drinks in hand, rotating among the crowd. And the whole time, I can feel slick warmth tracing down my upper thigh. A reminder of what a slut I am – and whose slut I am. You can tell, too. It’s in the quick press of my thighs between conversations, the way I smell ever so faintly of you, and the tiny moments of zoning out when you put your hand at my waist. You’re content – you marked me for the night, get to watch me squirm, and will hopefully award me appropriately when we finish here.
What shall we do when the party wraps up?