Mistress approached and petted my hair with one hand. She smoothed down my locks delicately. Then I was instructed to hold my hair flat.

Again I heard the gag's d-rings jingle. I would know them, even just by sound, anywhere. They were attached to Mistress' second favorite gag. She ordered it from a custom leather shop in Toronto. I remember the phone conversation well. She knew exactly what she wanted and took great care in her descriptions.

It was fashioned from a long leather strap that could have been used as an arm binder if she so wished. Instead, Mistress had it threaded through a large rubber ball. She fixed two, thin, steel d-rings to one end instead of buckles. She had grown weary of how the first, buckling gag she bought wouldn't tighten to her wishes. It was always either a bit too loose or too tight. So she decided to have her own gag made.

I was rough on gags, especially since Mistress liked to use them so often. She seemed of the opinion that robbing a submissive of speech made them more pliant. She liked that I had to use body language, or only my eyes if bound, to communicate. I know for a fact that restriction excited her.

Her excitement aroused me in turn. Plus there were objectification issues to be considered. I'm not saying that Mistress treated me like a doormat when I was gagged, but I certainly couldn't talk back or readily disagree with much of anything, now could I?

At any rate, as I mentioned, I was rough on gags. I tended to bite into the rubber balls out of a reaction to pain, pleasure, anxiety, or other intense stimuli and emotions. As such, the balls required routine replacement. Mistress usually purchased them at Toys R Us. She found that quite amusing. So did I.

That night, as I knelt there on the floor, surrounded by people I hardly knew at a private party, I saw the gag lowered over my head and noticed it sported a brand new rubber ball. It was purple. It made me wonder what was in store. Was I only being gagged for the spankings mentioned? Was there something else? Or perhaps Mistress only wished to show off her second favorite gag. I had no idea, but I wondered quite a bit.

Mistress threaded the straps around my head as I pressed my hair down to my shoulders in an attempt to keep it out of the way. Then she pulled gently, but firmly, until the ball was pushed well into my mouth. My jaw was wrenched wide. The purple ball was a bit bigger than the ones she usually purchased. I felt a strong suspicion that my mouth would be rather sore by the end of the night. I briefly hoped that Mistress didn't wish me to pleasure her orally that night. I doubted my mouth would be up to it.

But I didn't have time to dwell on what would happen later. Mistress ordered my hands to my side. She petted me again and grabbed the gags straps, gently guiding me forward as someone might do with a horse in tack and bridle. "Bum up, pet." She ordered. I understood and complied.

I fell forward gently and rested on my hands and knees. My back was arched and my bum was quite prominent. But it didn't seem to be quite enough. "Lower your shoulders to the ground." Mistress ordered, "In fact, assume your Mantra position."

I nodded once. My chest touched the carpet, which seemed so soft to my fingertips but so rough to my nipples, even through the silk blouse. I turned my head to one side. My hands found a place parallel to my shoulders, palms down. My legs spread a bit but remained mostly in place. I supported myself on my chest and knees with my rear end sticking prominently up into the air.

My sex ached in that position. I was excited by having Mistress' second favorite gag in my mouth, incapable of speech, and objectified but obviously cared for as I enjoyed. Mistress had me in a position that she loved as well. She liked to see me with my rear up like that. She had full access to both my tight rear end and my little pussy.

She preferred me to masturbate for her like that. She would have me make a show of it for her. I found it thoroughly embarrassing, but astoundingly erotic as well. It was also the position that I took most often when Mistress wore a harness and dildo.

So to say my sex ached while in that position is perhaps a bit of an understatement. I was slick with excitement, which became obvious when Mistress lifted my skirt, bunching it up around my waist, and removed the thong panties I wore. The bottom of the blue silicone butt plug was then visible.

I heard a few appreciative murmurs from those around the room. "Good girl." Mistress cooed. I thought to smile briefly. The gag would not allow it. "I suppose we'll have to remove this." Mistress continued, wiggling the base of the plug. I whimpered into the gag. I'm not sure anyone heard me. "Charles, would you be so kind as to send someone for a few paper towels?"

"Fetch boy." Charles's voice said in a soft tone. I couldn't see him, but I guessed that he sent Daniel. Mistress continued to wiggle the butt plug's base and added a soft fingertip upon my clit. She didn't pinch or rub, only applied a constant pressure while she wiggled the plug. I couldn't help but writhe and whimper. I wanted to come right that second.

Daniel returned in a short moment later and knelt beside me. He carried a paper towel in his hand. I silently wished he had taken longer. Mistress paid him no mind at all. With my head turned so that my left cheek pressed against the carpet I could just make her out in my peripheral vision. "Charles?" She asked, still concentrating on my bum.

"Is there a problem Loren?" Charles answered. Daniel shifted his weight nervously from one knee to the other. The black dress slacks he wore picked up a few fibers from the ornate rug beneath us.

"While I don't like to split hairs," Mistress answered in a matter-of-fact tone, "Your submissive has only returned with one paper towel. I requested a few paper towels. Plural." She continued to press my clit and wiggle the plug. I think Daniel heard my soft mewling, even through the gag.

"I don't question your commitment to your guests," Mistress continued, "But I would like your submissive to correct his mistake."

All murmurs in the room stopped. Any hushed conversation died off. There was a pause. I felt my Mistress stiffen. I worried for a moment that she may have offended Charles until he said, very calmly, "Daniel, I suggest you listen more carefully to requests from our guests."

I heard Daniel swallow. I was quite glad not to be in his place. I imagined him chained to some obscure torture device long after all the guests from the night's party were gone. I was willing to bet he would be very sore tomorrow.

Daniel hesitated a moment, then asked, "Master, may I please fetch another few paper towels for the Lady?"

"I suggest you do it quickly." Charles replied.

"Thank you Master." Daniel said. He left the single paper towel on the carpet in front of my Mistress and then scrambled into the kitchen. From my position on the floor, with my head turned to one side and my cheek lying flat on the rug, I saw him run. I hadn't seen anyone in a suit move like that. I wondered why his Master had him dress in such a way for a private kink party. Then I wondered what the suit might conceal.

Mistress chuckled a bit, as did most of those in the room. I doubt Charles did though. When he spoke he sounded very controlled. It was the same control I heard in my Mistress' voice that signaled I was in serious trouble. When she held emotion from her voice, spoke in cold tones, and became sarcastic, it meant that she held back anger.

But I stopped thinking about that. Mistress pushed on my clit a few times in a pulse. It felt so very good. I couldn't help but moan into the gag. At that moment I didn't care about anyone else around the room. I hoped my Mistress heard me and knew my reactions were genuine.

Daniel returned with three paper towels in one hand and a small roll in the other. He knelt beside me once again, facing my Mistress. "Here are three more my Lady." He reported, then held the roll up, "And more if you need them." From the corner of my eyes I could see that he was in a very submissive posture. He knelt with his body stretched out, his arms above his head. His torso was parallel to the ground and hovering over the run not more than two inches.

At first I thought that he reached for my Mistress. Then I realized it was an offering posture. He held the paper towels in his hands.

"Better." Mistress said to him. Then I think that she turned to Charles to relay her thanks. I'm not sure, because she removed her finger from my clit and I couldn't hear her words over my own gagged howling. The extended pressure along my clit built to a sort of precipice of sensation. Removing that pressure suddenly didn't allow the sensation to ebb slowly. Instead it pushed pleasure to an abrupt peak, then it descended. I clenched the muscles of my thighs to keep from having an orgasm without permission. I had little doubt that Mistress expected my reaction.

When I opened my eyes I found that I'd twisted my face so that my forehead ground into the rug. Mistress giggled a bit. I think she said something like, "My, my, my..." but I'm not sure. I was nearly deafened by my own heavy breathing. Since I couldn't breathe out of my mouth, all that air had to travel through my nose. It was difficult to slow the rhythm of my diaphragm.

Not that Mistress gave me the time to do so. She immediately began to pull the plug from my rear. She swatted my bottom lightly and wiggled the base of the plug. "I'm going to pull this out now." She instructed, "I can't have anyone swinging, hitting the plug instead of your bum, and damaging you. I plan to use this orifice later."

Her words brought a wave of smiles, giggles, and sighs from those seated around us. The sound of their approval made me blush bright scarlet. I'd forgotten they were present. I wished Mistress had chosen a private location to collar me. I was so very embarrassed. But she would do as she pleased within the safety restrictions of our contract.

The plug was removed quickly. I relaxed as best I could at first so the wider base of the plug would slide out easily. Then I clenched to assure no mess followed. I'd given myself a small enema that morning, as I did every day to assure I was clean in the event Mistress wished to use my rear, but I wanted to be safe.

I felt the rough paper towel dab at my rear to clean off the lubricant that trickled out for a moment after the plug was removed. Then Mistress patted my bum. "Good girl." She cooed again. I preened... such as I could in such an interesting position.

She handed a wad of paper towels to Daniel. I guessed that it contained the plug. "May I have your slave clean this Charles?" She asked without turning her attention away from Daniel.

"I think that's the least he can do." Charles responded. Again I felt the chill in his voice and thought how sore Daniel would be tomorrow. "Take it into the kitchen Daniel. Use gloves and antibacterial soap." He commanded, "Now."

"Thank you." Mistress commented. Then she returned her attention to me. "I think I will be the first." She stated with a hint of mischief in her voice. She grabbed the collar from behind, but didn't pull it so hard that I choked. Instead, she guided me into a sitting position slowly. She held my chin with her fingertips, had me look her in the eye, and said, "I give you one choice in the matter pet. You may kneel here, on the floor." She moved her hand from my chin and patted the rug beside me.

"You may kneel over Charles's ottoman over there." Mistress said, pointing to a dark, cloth covered footrest in front of the sofa.

"Or you may stand, bent over the arm of that chair." Mistress said, pointing to a chair occupied by a very sexy butch woman with a petite, femme submissive sitting in her lap.

Mistress returned her gaze to me. Her hand again cradled my chin and lifted my gaze to hers. "What will it be?" She asked.

I knew better than to hesitate. I answered quickly. "The ottoman, please Mistress." I said. She smiled. I suspected that she knew what I would choose.

She released my chin and I let my gaze fall to the floor in front of me. I caught glimpses the others in the room and blushed again. They were paying attention as if what unfolded before them was absolutely fascinating. Perhaps it was. But hadn't they all seen it before? I briefly wished they would become bored and wander off to the kitchen or strike up conversations amongst themselves.

But they didn't. Of course whispering broke out here and there. Most seemed glued to the scene in front of them though. Many of the Dominants grinned madly. My Mistress was in good form that night and they knew and appreciated it.

Mistress and Daniel dragged the ottoman to the center of the rug and I was placed over it with my bum in the air. Charles appeared with a length of soft, white rope. Interestingly enough I hadn't even noticed he was gone for a moment. I chastised myself for missing that detail. Mistress would have my hide if she knew. I hoped that she didn't ask about it later.

Mistress seemed satisfied once my wrists and thighs were secured to the four small legs of the ottoman. She stood and walked around me. I think she enjoyed the view. "Perhaps I should be the first to make her bottom rosy," She said thoughtfully to the room's occupants, "But I've collared her tonight. I know that she's mine. I don't have to prove it any further." She paused. I imagined a Cheshire Cat's grin upon her face. "Besides, I'd rather watch her face."

She stopped in front of me. I could well make out her boots and legs up to the knees. She reached down and caressed my face and stroked my hair. Then she turned and offered to trade the Dominant who was sitting in the chair directly in front of me his seat for the chance to spank me first. The Dom grinned and agreed. His submissive girl, who was sitting on the floor at his feet, smiled as well.

The look his submissive's face spoke volumes. No doubt she was glad that someone else would bear his desire for pain that night. I'm sure she hoped he would be spent and aroused when they arrived home after the party. Perhaps she would only have to perform sex duties that night.

So it began. My bottom was spanked, paddled, and then flogged by every single Dominant present and some of their submissives besides. Daniel was one of them, though he was exceedingly gentle.

Mistress watched me through it all. She caught every emotion in my eyes. She absolutely radiated when the last person finished and she stood to wipe away my tears. I had plenty for her to wipe away. I was a sobbing mess and felt terribly ashamed by it. In my thoughts I cursed the gag. My nose ran a bit from crying. I could scarce breathe. I'd also drooled onto Daniel and Charles's carpet.

My bottom felt as though it were on fire. I knew I would be bruised and welted. Sitting in my office the next day would be nearly impossible. My boss would wonder why I stood and paced so much. But that didn't matter, especially not at that moment.

Mistress' hands were magic. They were a balm unto themselves. They felt wonderful, soft, and warm. Her soothing words, which I was too distressed to understand at the time, felt just as good to my ears as comforting, tangled whispers. She untied me slowly. Occasionally her sharp fingernails raked my bum ever so slightly. Each fingernail felt like it left a line of fire across my already sore flesh. I cried into the gag a bit more.

Then it seemed that I was suddenly transported to the edge of the carpet. I didn't remember sitting up, yet I knelt upright, was near a chair, and comfortably cradled in Mistress' arms. I blinked tears away as she told me what a good girl I'd been and how proud she was of me. I remained there for what seemed like many minutes.

Mistress whispered a good many things into my ears. She asked of my emotional well being. I subtly informed her when I was well and she nodded, and then stood. Her voice returned to an authoritative tone. It was almost as if someone threw a switch.

"Kneel." Mistress commanded, again pointing to the carpet. The room became quiet as voices died down to listen. Mistress didn't raise her voice, so others had to quiet themselves to hear. I wondered briefly at her. Did she do it with that purpose, to quiet the room? Or did she care, so long as I could hear her?

It mattered to me only as an item of curiosity. I did as I was told and crawled to the center of the room. I was careful not to wag my rear as I crawled away.

The ottoman was still in the center of the rug. I folded my legs beneath me as I sat next to it, settling my sore, sore rump upon my heels. It felt good to be still, yet the heat from the skin of my lower legs and feet made my rear and the backs of my thighs seem like they glowed white-hot. I wasn't sure how I would manage to sit still for very long.

Charles turned to my Mistress again. "Let's get the real fun started." He said. My Mistress nodded again I cringed. The real fun? What he could possibly mean. Surely Mistress wouldn't allow my poor bottom to be paddled and spanked further! I had to be able to sit down at work tomorrow. But, as I said, I only had a brief moment to wonder.

"sara!" Charles's voice boomed, filling the room, "I understand you've a toilet fantasy. Is that right?"

I closed my eyes and felt my cheeks grow immeasurably hot. I had little doubt they matched the color of my rear. In fact, I knew that my entire body must have flushed. My teeth bit the ball-gag hard as I nodded my head up and down in an affirmative reply.

"Good." Charles replied, "I was worried you'd deny it. Since your face is so red, I'd say that was a tough thing to admit."

Mistress smiled in front of me. She seemed proud. "I saw the posts you made to an internet forum, stating that you were curious about toilet training." She said calmly, "I became curious myself. You've maintained that any play involving human waste is, at minimum, a soft limit." She paused. I felt her scrutiny. "Has that changed?" I shook my head from left to right to indicate that it had not.

"Then I think you'd best explain yourself." She said. Mistress then sat on the ottoman next to me and removed the gag gingerly. I supposed that she remembered how her finger leaving my clit made me react and knew that, while not a reaction of pleasure, the releasing of the gag had a similar effect. It was more like the plug leaving my bum. I would be left empty. She released the straps slowly, careful not to catch my hair in the rings, and eased the ball from my jaw.

I clenched the muscles and closed my teeth together. They felt odd, after having been separated for nearly forty-five minutes. They didn't fit correctly at first. When I tried to thank her I found that I couldn't talk very well. My jaw was terribly sore. I kissed Mistress' boots in thanks instead.

She seemed to think that was appropriate. She called me a good girl again. She whispered in my ear that I was to stay put, there, in the middle of the room for now. As she walked back to the chair in front of me I heard Charles's voice behind me again.

"Your Mistress came here a few weeks ago." He said, "She asked me about toilet training. I thought she'd lost her mind at first. Everyone knows I'm not much of a fan of that stuff. No offense." He held up his hands in a motion of mock surrender, "Then I mentioned it to Daniel here." I imagined him petting his slave boy at that moment, though I can't say I know if he did or not. My back was to him then. I thought that perhaps I should turn but then I remembered Mistress in front of me. I decided to face her unless she directed me to do otherwise.

"He said a round table discussion could be good." Charles continued, "And your Mistress loved the idea. That's what we're doing tonight. Everyone here knows something about toilet training and want to talk to you and your Mistress about it."

Then Charles introduced everyone around the room. For that, I decided that I'd best turn to face the guests as they were mentioned. I bowed to each of them, Dominant, submissive, or otherwise. Charles paused long enough to allow me a few words to thank them for coming and for the use of his home, which seemed to make him smile.

"Do you see that Daniel?" Charles asked of his slave, "That's a well behaved submissive. I'll bet she would have brought more than one paper towel." Charles swatted the back of Daniel's head playfully but the look in his eyes was anything but playful.

I wished that he wouldn't use me as an example. I was hardly the best behaved submissive in the room. I'd made at least a dozen mistakes that week alone. I knew I was no model to be used. But Charles continued.

"Fist," My Mistress said, "I think you should tell us what you consider toilet training, what appeals to you about it, and how that affects your personal safety limits."

I was suddenly very aware of all eyes on me. I blushed again and heard someone's submissive giggle under her breath. Other than that, I think I could have heard a pin drop.

I swallowed, thanked Mistress for allowing me to address the group, and replied that I considered toilet training or toilet use of a submissive to be the consumption of the Dominant's waste products. Most of the room's occupants nodded but one Dominant woman with black hair spoke up.

"That doesn't always have to be the case." She said. She petted her submissive at her feet. He was dressed in nothing but a leather harness across his chest. "My alex doesn't swallow." A ripple of quaint laughter spread throughout the room. The Domme smiled. "Seriously, he doesn't want to consume my piss but he lives to be used as a urinal. So he spits when he's done. It seems to work well for us."

I nodded and several others did as well. My Mistress cocked her head to one side. The Dominant man sitting to her left did as well. I was glad that at least I wasn't the only one in the room who hadn't considered that particular possibility until it was mentioned.

"But do go on." The raven haired Domme insisted. I did.

"What appeals to me about it?" I said, and then paused. I sighed and blushed again. My Mistress smiled. "I can't say it's the waste itself. In fact, I'm completely appalled at the idea of scat. I don't like that thought at all. Even watching it makes me sick. But when I think of my Mistress occasionally pressing her delicious sex to my mouth, of her scent filling my nostrils, of her taste on my lips... then of her spilling into me... it makes me wet."

I swallowed. "I honestly think it's the intimacy of the idea that has me fascinated. And... well... there's the humiliation aspect of it as well."

A tall, lanky Dominant man with close-cropped silver-blonde hair smacked his thigh. "Ha!" He said, "I knew it!" He paused just long enough to slap his submissive on the back. "That's what my boy riley here loves about it. He gets off on the humiliation."

Heads bobbed knowingly. Mine did also, but more from suspicion. I knew myself fairly well, but this was an area I'd not explored. My Mistress was very brave to have brought me there. I gave myself a little credit too, for not running screaming away.

A submissive femme with a shaved head whispered something to her butch Daddy. Then, after receiving a nod, the submissive asked, "So what are your limits? What do your limits allow in the way of exploration when it comes to being a toilet for your Mistress?" Her Daddy smiled. It was a good question and well asked. I would have been proud too.

I paused. I wasn't sure how to explain it. Then I looked up at my Mistress. She still held the ball gag in her lap. "It's something that I wish to explore. I want to know more. Perhaps I'm willing to try it. Perhaps I'm not. I'd like to talk about it though. It's a soft limit because I know so little about it and am afraid. It's a soft limit because I won't do it without prior negotiation first."

Mistress nodded. She had suspected as much. I smiled to see her seem so at ease. She was happy. Better than that, she was proud of me. I briefly thought that there was no better feeling in the world.

"It's also something that I will only even consider doing with certain individuals." I continued, "As I mentioned, I'm attracted to the intimacy that I think the act could lend to a relationship. Right now I would only even so much as think of doing toilet training with my Mistress. I wouldn't do it for someone else."

I looked directly at my Mistress' collarbones. "With respect Mistress," I added, "I would use a safe word even if you ordered me to perform the act with someone else." Again Mistress nodded and smiled. Had she expected that as well?

The talks continued for nearly an hour and a half. I heard the recounting of several first attempts. Some Dominants openly bragged but mostly the talk was very informative and casual. I was intrigued by many of the new possibilities given. I was also very frightened that Mistress might approach me with the suggestion that I be her urinal in the next week. I was embarrassed even at the mere thought of discussing it with her... much less the idea of actually performing for her.

After the discussion we were all invited into Charles's basement. Properly named his dungeon, there were many beautifully crafter pieces of equipment. A Saint Andrews cross made of an exotic looking dark wood stood proudly in one corner. Two bondage tables rested against opposite walls of the room. And there were many other smaller devices as well. I remembered Daniel bragging about the fact that serving a Master who is a carpenter has many perks.

I was finally allowed to fade a bit into obscurity. My bottom was still sore and felt swollen so large that I could have had two zeppelins as seat cushions. Not that I sat down. I knelt on the floor no matter which corner I occupied.

I was thankful that Charles had thought to make up for the paper towel embarrassment earlier by having Daniel wait on my Mistress nearly hand and foot. It meant I didn't have to do it and could thereby avoid the limelight. Mistress seemed to be the center of attention now. Sure, several of the more intimate groups had begun to use the equipment, but many of the Dominants were chatting with my Mistress.

She seemed to tire of all the attention quickly though. It wasn't long before she peered around the large basement, looking for me. When she saw me her eyes lit up. She excused herself from the circle around her. She briefly spoke to Charles on her way across the room, and he smiled when they spoke.

I didn't have time to ask how well the conversations went or what Charles enjoyed so much. Mistress looped a finger through the collar around my neck and dragged me upstairs. My cheeks flushed pink when she closed the door of the master bathroom behind us.

"Kneel, slut." She commanded. I did. "Good," She said, "Now crawl to me." I then did as she wished, swaying my hips as I crawled.

When I reached her boots I stopped. I kissed each one. "I apologize for my words earlier this evening during dinner. I trust you." I said.

"We'll see." Mistress said, just before lifting her skirt. "Take these off." She said, lightly snapping the waistline of her black, lace panties.

I blinked, a little shocked, but complied. My fingers looped through the waistband and pulled her panties down her legs, and over her boots to her ankles. I held them as still as I could while she lifted first her right foot, then her left from the tiny garment.

I then folded the undergarment and turned to crawl toward the counter. But Mistress stopped me. She touched my shoulder and said, "No, the floor beside you is fine." I wasn't surprised at all that she anticipated exactly what I was about to do. I was accustomed to folding Mistress' clothes carefully and in places where her dog, Chiot, wouldn't disturb them. Instead, I lay her panties next to me on the floor as per her wishes.

"I seem to have become a bit wet." Mistress then said in a mock innocent tone, "I think that perhaps you should dry me."

Drying her was a phrase she used when she left the bathtub or shower. I didn't refer to spiriting water from her skin with a warm towel, though I was happily expected to do that as well. What it meant was that I was to lick moisture from her sex... often creating more moisture in the process. But it was about pleasure more than anything. And I dearly loved it when Mistress allowed me to dry her. So when she said it, standing in front of me, I knew exactly what she wanted.

"Yes Mistress!" I replied immediately. I crawled forward and then sat up on my knees so that my face was level with her thighs. She moved forward a bit and cradled my head in her palms. I felt her fingers through my hair as I closed my eyes.

My tongue extended and found her clit with ease. I lapped it slowly, softly at first like a cat would lick milk from a saucer. She tasted wonderful, like honey and musk mixed. Though when she said she was only a bit wet she wasn't entirely honest. My tongue found her to be quite moist.

Mistress sighed. As my tongue probed deeper I reached up with my hands and parted her lips to lick her entire sex. I felt Mistress' fingers gather in my hair and pressed harder with my tongue upon her sensitive clit.

My mouth was still sore from being held open by the gag earlier. However, though earlier that evening I feared being too sore to please Mistress orally, I found that my desire to lick her to orgasm quite overpowered my response to my jaw's dull ache. I resolved not to stop until she found release or ordered me away. My mouth was already sore. What was a little more for the woman I all but worshipped?

Occasionally Mistress allowed me to penetrate her with my fingers as well, and I decided to try it. I knew there was only a few other ways to bring her to intense orgasms quickly and hoped she would allow it that time. I stroked the length of her sex with my index and middle finger and was rewarded when Mistress spread her legs a bit more in front of me. I paused to suck her clit into my mouth, and then slid my fingers gently into her.

Again, I felt her fingers tangle in my hair. I knew I was very lucky indeed to have been allowed to please Mistress in such a way. My own sex ached as I pressed Mistress' g-spot with my fingertips and lapped at her clit.

"Bite me." Mistress commanded between increasingly ragged breaths, "But not hard you little slut. You know how I like it."

I subtly nodded my agreement. I knew just what she liked. She taught me. I prided myself on that fact. So I closed my teeth on her clit softly. I applied only the slightest bit of pressure and then released. Then I repeated the action. I felt her thighs tighten when I nibbled her clit. She moaned each time. It was heaven.

She came in mere moments. I thought that she would all but tear my hair out in an attempt to keep silent so the others in the party wouldn't hear us. Still, she moaned a good bit.

When I stopped I could tell that she was dizzy and her knees were weak. I guided her to sit on the edge of Charles's jacuzzi as soon as she released her death grip upon my hair. It was a bit of a trek across the large bathroom but I made certain she didn't falter. Once she was seated, I knelt at her feet. She stroked my hair and called me her good little girl so many times that I lost count.