The Dom steps out of the car holding a leash, on the other end is his sub wearing a gold collar and dressed to kill. The only kink was the collar and the leash, but that was enough. I always loved that pic.
That recollection threw her further into a kinky, horny, provocative head space. What if she had a gold collar, and he were there with a leash to lead her into the night? The urge to cum was growing dire as the turn-ons kept piling on. She desperate needed to cum. She carefully removed the dress and laid it on the stool. Glancing in the mirror at her naked body was all it took to have her prying apart her labia with one hand, and rubbing her swollen clit with the other. A series of spasms immediately ignited into a furious frenzy of physical arousal – it had been days since she’d come. She had to catch herself to stay on her feet. For the next sixty seconds she leaned against the wall and rubbed herself, the clit and the juicy hole – into which she stuffed three fucking fingers. She would have used her whole hand if that had been possible. But three fingers and a lot of brisk thrumming were enough to have her gasping silently, her mouth open, her eyelids heavy with lust and her body spasming hard against her hand. More juices poured out over her fingers – she should have thought to bring paper towels. She licked her fingers dry instead, wondering what Jack would think of her now.
Still breathless and panting, she came back to the world heaving an enormous sigh.
“You okay in there?” she heard Celia speak.
“Yeah, I’m just fine. A little hard getting the dress undone,” she called out. “But I’m good.”
Once back in her clothes, she grabbed the dress and headed out to make the purchase before she chickened out. They left the boutique, heading down the street to find Jeni her dancing shoes.
She wrote to Jack:
“Hey I got on the net, finally! So good to hear from you. You’d be surprised how tiring museums can be, all that standing… but not to complain. There’s so much fascinating to see, so many famous paintings right here, close enough to touch, which I wouldn’t dare do. So many good things to eat. And this city is SO sexy. All of it. And the women!
Rather a nice image to reflect on – the leashed submissive. You can probably imagine that kind of scene has been fodder for at least one of my kinky stories. As far as “dressed to kill”… Celia picked out a dress for me, for our adventure into Paris night life. It’s a corset dress (hey, she picked it out, not me!). Tight around the middle, pushes my breasts into a cleavage. I love that. I bet you would too – you’ll just have to use your imagination for now. I’m smiling, but just a little nervous about tomorrow night!
Gotta go.”
As if she weren’t already aroused enough, another of Jack’s seductive emails was waiting when she opened her phone the following morning.
“Sounds like you’re having a good time. I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of things I didn’t have time for – when you’re in your 20’s priorities are different. Just thinking about being in Paris with all that history, the Seine, the art, the cathedrals. Let’s not forget about the sex. There I go again with the sex. I must be horny.
Someone sent me an email that reminded me of something a sub told me a long time ago. When a sub is ready to play she gives her panties to the Dom. She either has them in her purse or she takes them off. I like the idea of slipping them off, say in a booth at a restaurant. Or maybe she goes into the ladies room and takes them off there, then hands them to her Dom when she returns. That could make a hot story, that’s if you haven’t written about it already.
I’ve been working on my Porsche, getting it ready for the summer. Oil change and all the stuff, a bath and it’s ready to go. I’m looking forward to cruising your way for lunch when you get back. Enjoy yourself, and remember I want details about your ‘adventure’.”
She wrote back:
“Hi again! Must be brief, big day ahead. Pictures attached.
I like the panty idea. Also like the idea of your getting the Porsche in shape for your drive! I’ll try to email later.”
When she returned to her room that afternoon, another email was waiting.
“The Eiffel Tower is awesome, your phone takes good pics. Not that I haven’t seen it myself, I just know what a big deal it is when you get that first glimpse.
Glad you like my ideas. I’d never heard of the panty thing before, and not since, but it sure does sound fun.
I was out walking my neighbor’s dog. He’s been laid up with a bad knee. A squirrel started teasing the dog. He ignored him, while the squirrel just hung low on the tree. I took the leash and swung it like a whip at the little bastard and much to my surprise hit it. Maybe I’m better with a whip than I thought. Jack.”
Reading his email, Jeni smiled, though wondering about the poor squirrel, she dashed off:
“Was the squirrel okay? Seems you just need a little target practice. Can my ass be another item on my list of atonement? Gotta get ready for tonight.”
Dressed to kill, wasn’t that the idea? Even if they weren’t the sexy ingénues they’d been twenty years before, they were hot, even by Paris standards. Jeni in a satin bustier dress, Celia in tight-fitting peacock blue. Their eyes were glamorous and their hair swept up off the neck and haphazardly thrown into a messy bun at the back of the head.
They arrived at their destination on Rue du Cherche-Midi and were quickly ushered into the chic nightclub. It had been advertised as a Left Bank sex club with a disco and various salons that allow “voyeurism, group adventures and a little light bondage.” Celia had picked it out without any input from Jeni, which made her wonder again about Celia’s sexual inclinations.
Light bondage? How far did that go? How far the voyeurism? The group adventures? If she had been picking out the nightclub, she would have wanted something more along the lines of hardcore BDSM. But was that even available in the Paris scene? Probably not in any advertised location. Maybe, with Celia willing, they could go a little more exotic than this just slightly kinky nightclub. But maybe that was just fantasy talking. As she walked into the club, side by side with Celia, she was pretty certain that this place would provide enough titillation for whatever erotic need this night in Paris was meant to satisfy.
And Celia? To Jeni she remained an intriguing mystery she hoped to unravel – and that, too, was Jeni’s bolder side talking. What did she hope to unravel? A sister in bondage? A daring lover? She was quite good at making up stories, but when it came to real life, Jeni could quickly chicken out, if past experience was any clue to what she’d really do, especially in a public place without the comfort of a dominant man there for protection. Jeni wasn’t sure just how much protection Celia’s company would be.
“So what do we do now?” she asked, practically pressing her lips to Celia’s ear to be heard above the noisy music. The dance floor was crowded with sexy bodies dancing, calling to her. She felt their tug and pull, with the old yearning to be in the midst of something wild and unpredictable returning.
“Just be open and make eye contact. Flirt.”
“Flirt?”
Before much flirting took place, they were on the dance floor on the arms of two handsome Frenchmen who only spoke broken English. They didn’t seem to care that Jeni and Celia didn’t speak French. The music made conversation nearly impossible, so communication depended on the coy smile, the suggestive glance, and the affectionate familiarity bred where bodies are packed close and moving to the same erotic beat.
Jeni smiled shyly at the man before her. Dark hair, well groomed. Hooded, alluring eyes, and a smile that suggested he liked the way she looked. She saw how his eyes stared at her pushed up tits before they sought out her face again.
“Nice dress.” At least that’s what she thought he said. She couldn’t hear a word.
The music slowed and her new friend pulled in close, putting an arm around her and pressing his groin against hers. Her mind was spinning, her heart racing fast. What he did to her during that slow dance made her body shudder and her eyes close. Then
he grabbed her ass with one hand and squeezed lightly, setting off an erotic spasm that reverberated through every nerve. How long has it been since… her mind flashed back in time, though she was quickly jerked back to the present when she looked up with open eyes to see the Frenchman’s lips descending to hers. At the moment, she didn’t want anything as much as she wanted that kiss. The touch of his warm soft lips exploded away the dust that had gathered in her sexual body. Fires were lit that she hadn’t felt in, what? Maybe two years? Fires unlike the fire of fantasy, like what lit up inside her when one of Jack’s emails opened up and he talked of sex and kink and ways to beat her ass.
A real body was a completely different experience. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be so close to a man. Scent, taste, touch converged at once. Her body was alive, all that pent-up libido of the last month letting loose. The sexy Frenchman felt her arousal and picked up his game, following one kiss with another, with another grab of her ass, and a hand that cupped her right breast. He squeezed that too.
Didn’t know what to make of all that squeezing. She was already taken, wasn’t she? She already had a man, even if he was nowhere to be found in that nightclub. She backed off laughing, blushing. Her face must have been as red as a beet. She blushed easily.
She wanted to take a break, but he kept dancing, pulling her back into his embrace and coming on more strongly this time. Two drinks into the night, her head was a little too fuzzy to think clearly, or extract herself from this man’s firm grasp.
When he looked down, he winked at her. She was mesmerized by his smile. That smile that must have brought dozens of women into his bed on nights like this one. He liked to kiss and kissed her often. He liked fondling her tits, and had one pulled from the bustier before they were through the second dance. She blushed when she saw her nipple appear in plain sight – not that it was the only nipple out in the open on that dance floor. She gently, firmly pushed it back inside her dress, giving the tall blond Frenchman a determined glance.
“Pardon, Mademoiselle,” she heard him say. Whatever else he said in the form of an apology, she couldn’t hear above the noise. When he nuzzled her neck with kisses, she almost orgasmed on the spot. When his hand strayed to her ass again and he squeezed her left cheek, he would have instantly felt her body seize up. Her pussy clenched tightly, and she could think of little else but his fingers on the wet flesh between her thighs.
But then there was Jack’s face in her mind’s eye, and his voice inside her head, and the thought that she belonged to him bringing her back to sanity.
This was getting way out of hand, this total stranger going too far, too fast, and when he drew her close again and roughly squeezed her ass one more time, sending another exhilarating shock wave through her horny body, she knew she had to back off, way off.
End it now before you have something to regret!
Before Jeni had a chance to extract herself from the sexy Frenchman, Celia was at her side. She grabbed her by the arm and ushered her to the side of the room.
“Let’s get something to eat and cool down a bit.” Celia a voice of reason in this pulsing insanity? She noted Jeni’s flustered face. “He’s hot, hon, but you don’t want to fuck that guy.”
“I don’t?” A perfectly reasonable question given the overall plan for the evening.
“No you don’t.”
“You’re right, I don’t. This is way too soon for me.”
“And after talking to your guy’s friend,” Celia went on, “you’ll feel better giving it a pass.”
For crissakes this is Paris, her deprived, inner slut was screaming at her. But Jeni was already coming down from the liquor high, and her body from its heightened arousal.
Celia leaned in. “Let’s just walk around for a while, see what happens.”
What happened was more dancing, more sexy men, and some who weren’t. More drinks, more small talk, if English was spoken, and more thoughtless oblivion, as Celia ushered Jeni through the nightclub.
There was ‘light bondage’ in one of the salons, pretty tame by Jeni’s standards, though she didn’t admit that to Celia, who walked right by without comment. Then they came upon a naked orgy of five in another part of the club, and stopped to watch the three half-clothed men and two naked women copulating with some abandon. Considering that there were at least a dozen people surrounding them with eyes glued to the fondling, the fucking, the kissing, and double penetration of the female with the short blonde hair – reminded Jeni of Justine – the five exhibited an extraordinary lack of restraint and sexual candor.
“They get off being watched,” Jeni whispered to Celia, hardly aware that she had voiced her thoughts aloud. The heavy rock beat in the club permeated the air with noise, and still they could hear the grunting, groaning sounds of sex, of copulation, the smacking of thighs and even lips. Jeni felt the pulse of their fucking inside her crotch, and the intensity of the demands placed on the slim blonde as her body stretched to fit the men inside her slick cunt and tight ass. Lots of lubricant made her private parts glisten. The strain on the woman’s face registered in Jeni’s body. Memories threatened to flood her thoughts, but she shooed them away, preferring the exhilarating moment to anything her past might tell her. “How lucky they are to enjoy that much freedom,” she added to her previous comment. For perhaps the first time with Celia, she didn’t analyze what she said, or think it through before she spoke.
Celia’s only comment was silence, though she took Jeni’s hand and squeezed it tightly for a moment then let it go. Whatever spell had been cast over Jeni as she witnessed the scene seemed broken at that moment, and when Celia pulled her away, she didn’t resist. “That’s getting way too aroused,” she explained.
In a corridor by the restrooms, the two stopped for a spontaneous kiss before entering. Then a second kiss, one that lingered for a moment until it started to feel awkward. Lips and a little tongue.
“Whew!” Celia gasped when she finally backed off. “That was unexpected, wasn’t it?” This time, she was the one to blush. Though her embarrassment didn’t last. As if the moment of connection was easy to dismiss, she shook it off and barged on into the restroom.
Nothing seemed amazing about their spontaneous affection. In fact, it might have been surprising to Jeni if they hadn’t kissed, since there were kissing, fondling, groping females all around them. Maybe girl-on-girl foreplay was required warm up before these horny women met up with the man they’d fuck that night. Or maybe they’d stick with their sexy friends. The club was in heat, and so were Jeni and Celia. The two would have been comatose if they hadn’t felt the fierce pulse of arousal, and that something distinctly Parisian about that vibe.
Their attraction for each other was finally out in the open, though Jeni would never act on that without stronger signals from Celia. She’d never been one to initiate sex; it wasn’t in her genes. She also knew that the spontaneous kissing could have as much to do with the drinks and the scorching sexual atmosphere that surrounded them as it did physical attraction – much like what college girls do when they’re drunk or stoned or both.
If there was a move to make, Celia would be the one to make that move.
What a wild ride this was! Sex and Jack and Celia, freedom calling her one minute, guilt holding her back the next – and likely keeping her from doing something she’d regret. She had learned one thing though: For all her boldness, Celia had her reservations too, maybe a surprise given how she’d been the one to initiate this adventure to a Paris nightclub. But a comforting fact for Jeni.
For the next hour they blended into the scene as if they belonged to it, although if Jeni were to stop long enough to consider the question, she would have known that she didn’t belong at all. The fact that she was a foreigner in a strange land seemed to follow her through the nightclub and make the night not quite real and not quite right, although still a hell of a memory for a future moment of nostalgia.
As the night wore on, she sensed a rising uneas
e, for which she couldn’t pinpoint any explanation. She was having fun, easy enough. But she was still a little disturbed by Celia’s need to protect her, even if on one level she welcomed that protection.
Why would she need protection in the first place? She could take care of herself.
But facts were facts. Celia was a natural nurturer, no surprise that she’d assume control, make decisions and take a woman with a hesitant nature like Jeni under her wing. She did so graciously and without thinking. What point was there in being annoyed by that motherly vibe? Better be with a woman that she could count on to be sane on a night like this.
In time, liquor and exhaustion made Jeni almost mindless, until she was swimming through the crowded nightclub with very little thought to anything but the easy laughter, and the feel of bodies bumping into hers. How many times her tits popped from the dress, how many times a man’s hand landed on her naked ass didn’t seem to matter anymore – as long as she could glance away and see Celia somewhere nearby. Even if Celia wasn’t looking at her, Jeni felt herself tethered to the woman. She was a submissive woman, and she liked the thought of being tethered.
And what would she tell Jack about that night?
She had no clue.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Celia suddenly scooped her up and away from a gentlemanly black man who had grabbed Jeni’s attention. He, too, had kissed her, and that kiss had been a long and lingering one that for a moment stopped their dancing cold. He was reaching to the hem of her dress, inching it up in front. She wasn’t stopping him, though Celia did.
Jeni smiled warmly at the disappointed fellow and waved as she followed Celia to the door. She was perplexed by the sudden urge to leave, until she reached the street and felt the first gusty breeze against her bare skin.
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