A Private Function

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OKAY, I’m not sure what I’ve got myself into. I’m not sure what is going to happen. I’m not even sure where I am! But, what I do know is that I look pretty, I feel amazing and I am teetering on the edge of going crazy with excitement . . .

Let me tell you what I’m talking about.

I’d been swapping pictures and fantasies with Gwen for a while. You must know Gwen, the prettiest, subbiest sweetest party-girl. You must have seen her pictures. Those long long legs in black nylon, those tiny little skin tight dresses, those big, full, red lips . . . oooh she’s a beauteous babe . . .

Anyway, I’d finally saved enough money to pay her a visit and this was the first night we were going to be going out together. We’d spent the day shopping for things to wear and we’d both had full-body waxes (Hollywood!) and were feeling sweetly femme and super-sexy. We got dressed together in the hotel room (and it was hard not to touch one another, but we’d promised to save ourselves for the boys, ooops – a slip of the tongue, I’ll tell you about that in a moment).

We had decided to dress identically. We wore black, lace suspender belts (well I did, Gwen insisted on calling hers a ‘garter’ belt) with plain, black stockings, no seams to worry about. The matching black bras held our breasts beautifully and then we’d slid on the very tiniest thong knickers (alright, panties) we could find. As the ribbon slipped between my buttocks I thought of all the other things that might . . .

Anyway, we made each other up, dressed just in our undies, and then slipped on our tight, black cocktail dresses before heading off to the party.

‘So, Gwen, what is going to happen tonight?’ I asked the long-legged lovely beside me in the cab.

‘It’s a private-room instruction party’

Gwen went on to explain that this meant that when we arrived we would be put sakarya escort into a private room, just the two of us, and that there would be an envelope of instructions separately addressed to each of us. We would each have to do precisely as the instructions instructed and then the party would begin. There were going to be about 10-15 people there, Gwen said she would know at least some of them, but that I was going to get a fair bit of attention as ‘the new girl’. We’d discussed parties like this one a lot during our email exchanges, I could not wait.

We arrived at the party location and the door seemed to open before we had a chance to knock. We entered a large hall, the 5 inch stillettos we both wore (black, ankle-strapped, a sprinkle of diamante) clicked sharply on the marble floor. A notice at the foot of the stairs said:

To Gwen and Leanne, Hello girls, please go up to the playroom (second door on the left). You know what to do. Don’t think about disobeying. I shivered a little and Gwen took my hand.

‘Don’t worry sweetie, it’ll be lovely . . . ‘

And we went up the stairs.

In the room, which had a soft, royal purple carpet, there was a padded bench, a cushion and a wall of toys, whips and restraints. On the bench were two envelopes. I reached out a hand as did Gwen, our matching red nails contrasted with the expensive, creamy-white of the envelopes. We looked at each other and Gwen said: ‘You first . . .’

I opened my envelope. Inside was a single sheet of paper. On it were just five words: Do as you are told.

Gwen opened her envelope, she took a moment to read it and as she did so her eyes widened.

‘Oooh Sweetie, I thought they’d go easy on you for your first time . . . . Now follow me . . . ‘

Gwen led me across to the wall and took down . . . a blindfold. She asked me to close my samsun escort eyes and then wrapped the soft-velvet strip around my head, it blocked out all light and almost immediately my hearing became super-acute, every sound took on a special significance, although for the moment the only real sound was the girlish excitement in our twin breaths.

‘Now baby, you have to trust me . . . ‘

‘I trust you Gwen . . . I feel wonderful . . . floaty and free . . . ‘

Gwen led me across the room and turned me around. I felt my bottom bump the bench. Gwen helped me up onto the bench and laid me on my back, my head dangling down. She left me for a second and I heard the gentle jingle as she lifted some things down from the rack on the wall.

Gwen returned and I felt a strap go across my corsetted stomach and fix me to the bench, then I felt cuffs attached around each ankle. There was the noise of a switch, then an electric winch and my legs were pulled upwards and slightly backwards. With my heels pointing at the sky I was on my back and entirely vulnerable. Next cuffs were place around my wrists and I was expecting that my arms would be similarly immobilised. They were certainly immobilised, but not as I’d expected. Instead broad leather straps fixed my wrists to my thighs. I could not move. I was trapped on my back and tingling with anticipation. Gwen must have noticed my trembling as she kissed me delicately on the lips and whispered ‘Don’t worry . . . .’.

I felt Gwen’s nails on my thighs again, this time on the back of them as my skirt was wiggled down and the ribbon of my thong pulled to one side, exposing the end of the plug that Gwen had lubricated into me as we dressed . . . Then came perhaps the most erotic sensation thus far . . . Gwen ran her nails down where the seams would have been on my stockings and placed the tenderest urfa escort of kisses on the backs of my calves and knees: ‘You are going to love this honey . . . ‘

I heard her pad away across the floor and then stop, a soft outbreath told me that she had knelt down on the cushion and so, here we are . . . and we seem to be waiting for something . . . I feel amazing and I am teetering on the edge of going crazy with excitement . . .

We don’t wait long. I hear the door open and feel a large and powerful presence enter the room. A smell reaches me above the gentle waft of the Valentina Gwen and I sprayed on one another about an hour ago . . . our warm bodies push the scent into the air in waves but this new smell, this man smell, penetrates the soft, feminine, fog . . .

‘She’s ready I see.’

I imagine Gwen’s nod.

‘Completely ready? What have you told her?’

Gwen says that she has told me I will love it . . .

‘Is that right Leanne? Will you love it? Are you ready?’

The voice is deep, gruff, a man, a real one, no messing, and I can hardly breathe, let alone speak, but I manage to say . . .


‘Good, that is the only word you will need . . . . Now, Gwen . . .’

‘Yes’ says Gwen.

‘Get us ready for your girlfriend.’

You won’t believe how sexy a cock being sucked can sound . . . . especially when you are strapped on your back with your heels pointing to heaven . . .

It doesn’t take long before I feel hot and heavy hands on my legs and my plug is gently, firmly removed and replaced with something, bigger, warmer, harder and so wonderfully alive . . . then, I realise that I can still hear Gwen sucking, and then there are hands on my face and my throat is full and Gwen is still sucking . . . .

There are at least ten of them, I think, after a while I lose count . . . sometimes I can’t breathe . . . but sparks shoot in my brain . . .

Most of the hands are hard and hairy and firm and rough, but one pair, I think I remember, feel different on my legs, there is that scrape of nails on nylon and I know that I am safe . . .

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