Cindy felt a sense of helplessness wash over her. She could not move. She could not see or hear anything. She was awake, but felt like she was trapped in a vast void of a dream. She tried to let go of her nerves and worries. There was nothing she could do about her situation. She just had to find a simple state of calm to melt into.

Cindy felt a clunk on the table. Not through the cushion under her back, but through the table her bare arms were touching. She assumed Joe was setting the table with dishes and silverware. Oh, goodness. What if it wasn’t Joe? What if the caterers were setting the table? Were they seeing her like this? She felt the clunking on the table in her calves now. They were walking around the table. They could probably see the wet folds between her legs. There was no way for her to hide it. Whoever it was, they had now seen her most intimate places, and Cindy had no idea who they were. They might see her at a grocery store next week and recognize her, and Cindy would never know they were one of the people who had seen her like this. She felt the future embarrassment starting to form now.

Suddenly a hand squeezed her right breast, and then it was gone. That must have been Joe, she thought. Surely the catering staff would not touch her. Or would they? Had Joe told them not to touch, or to feel free to touch? Joe did like to squeeze her breasts, but it was honestly difficult to identify his hand without any other clues. There was more clunking on the table. Cindy suspected there may be more than one person in the room.

Something touched her ankle. Maybe a fingernail, or the tip of a spoon? It started dragging up her leg, along the inside of her thigh. Cindy instinctively rolled her thigh open to try to escape it, but it matched her movements, continuing farther up her leg. It reached almost to her vulva and then disappeared. Who was that? She thought.

The clunking on the table stopped. And nobody touched her for a while. Maybe the table was all set now? Maybe Joe was greeting his friends at the door? Oh no. They were all going to see her like this. Their first time meeting her, and she was completely naked with her legs spread wide.

Cindy lost track of time. She had not felt a table clunk or a touch for quite a while. For a brief moment she tried to count seconds to herself, but soon her mind wandered and she lost count. She wondered if the other guests knew she was going to be the centerpiece on the table tonight, or if this was a surprise to them too.

Getting together with Joe was always a bit of a surprise for Cindy. It was one of the things that she enjoyed about him. They had played with some bondage before, and he had also taken her out in public a few times with some sort of secret under her clothes, but this was the first time she had ever been naked around a group of strangers. They were going to be looking closely at all her private places. Her body was stretched open for them to inspect. She really had no control in the matter.

Cindy rocked her pelvis, hoping some amount of movement would help satisfy that desire to have some pressure applied to her clit. Nothing she did came close to helping. She felt a little tickle running from her pussy down towards her ass. The wetness within her was leaking out, oozing down between her legs. The moment they saw her like this it would be obvious that she was very turned on by the situation. She felt a flush of warm embarrassment cover her face. She could not keep anything a secret. She was certain the redness in her cheeks would be obvious.

The scent of the meal was now heavy in the air. Cooked meat with seasonings, steam rising from vegetables, and the moist air of freshly baked bread. She felt a hunger in her mouth and in her stomach. It smelled so delicious. She wondered if someone was going to feed her. Maybe she was not going to be a sushi platter?

Something touched the side of her left breast. It held still, just pressing. A second later Cindy noticed the coldness of it. Maybe the back of a spoon? Maybe a wine glass? The chill slowly traveled through her skin, spreading across her breast. When the cool wave reached her areola her skin scrunched up, tightening, and her nipple hardened. Another touch next to first brought more cold to her skin, and her nipple stood up tall. She felt her nipple pinched. Pinched and released. Pinched and rolled between a thumb and finger. Pinched and plucked, and dropped, bouncing her breast. It was both startling and arousing.

Then a coldness touched the side of her other breast. Faster than before her areola tightened up and her right nipple stood tall. She waited, and waited, and waited. There was no pinch. But then there was icy cold directly on her nipple. Ouch. Very cold. She was very hard. And then the pinching began. Something about having her arms pulled out to the corners, exposing her armpits and stretching the muscles in her chest made her breasts feel so very vulnerable. She did not have her upper arms to help hide the sides of her delicate flesh.

While the nipple plucking and rolling continued, Cindy noticed something touching that little valley that ran from her hip bone down towards her crotch. It was a light touch, and then another touch right next to it. Then it touched again, closer to her hip bone. It was like someone was walking their fingertips along her skin. It traveled up over her hip bone, down towards the table, and then turned to go along her side. It was a little bit ticklish. The fingers walked lightly up along her side, and across the side of her breast. The lightness of the touch made it more ticklish. Then to her armpit, and the underside of her arm. Cindy squirmed and twitched, trying to pull back from the ticklish touch, but was unable to evade the dancing finger tips. They worked their way back down across her most ticklish flesh, this time with more fingernails. She almost called out for mercy, but felt it best to hold her tongue, and only let out whimpers and gasps.

Then it stopped. No contact. A welcome break from the teasing touch. Cindy waited. And waited. She did not feel any vibrations from the table. What were they doing?

Cindy felt something wedged between her big toe and next toe. Wiggling her toes could not dislodge it. It was a weird distraction. She could not tell what it was. A little thicker than a pencil, but very short and light. It was a persistent little annoyance, and rather distracting.

An itch developed on her thigh. It started out small at first. Cindy rolled her leg trying to shake it loose, but to no avail. The itch grew and grew. There was no way for her to make contact with it. It was maddening. How could she tolerate so much and yet a little itch was driving her crazy? She couldn’t resist and she had to ask for help.

“Please, sir.” She said out loud. “I have an itch.” Cindy could not tell if she was talking loudly or not. The earplugs and headphones made it difficult to gauge. She felt something touch her belly button.

“Sir, the itch is on my left thigh.” She hoped he, or they, would show mercy and help her. The touch on her tummy started dragging down, across that hip valley, and towards her thigh. Cindy wished it would move faster. The touch was talking it's time.

“Sir, the itch is on the outside of my thigh.” The touch moved in that general direction.

“A little lower, Sir.” The touch moved towards the table.

“Sir. More towards my knee.” Cindy instructed, desperate for relief. It was hard to tell, but it seemed like the touch was finally in the right spot.

“Yes, sir. Right there.” Cindy waited for the vigorous scratching she craved, but it did not arrive. Instead the touch started lightly tapping her skin. teasing the itch, and daring it to spread.

Cindy let out a faint whimper of desperate frustration. Please, she thought to herself. Please scratch me there. Please.

The tapping changed to a gentle rubbing, or wiping. It was hard to tell, but there may be a second finger of hand rubbing her. Then another joined the touching. Now her whole thigh was being rubbed. It was gentle, but the itch was being overtaken, and started to subside.

Cindy could clearly tell the rubbing and squeezing were hands. Different sizes and textures, but clearly hands. They started to roam around her. Some traveled up her torso. Some worked their way down her other leg, some sought out her breasts and arms and neck. Cindy could not count them all as they kept moving but there must have been more than eight or ten hands on her. It was amazing, intense, and a bit overwhelming. So much stimulation all at the same time.

While the hands continued to massage her all over, the hand on her stomach wandered lower, over her mound, and began rubbing and pressing over her whole vulva. The fingertips dipped into the wetness leaking from her, and worked more slippery pressure around and around her clit. It was circling and building up energy, without directly hitting her target.

A pinch of her right nipple jumped her arousal up sharply, and she found herself moving what little she could, trying to press into the hand between her legs. With her limbs stretched out wide, she could give little more than a wiggle. A pinch of her other nipple bumped her up again. She was so close to cumming. Cindy’s mouth was open, gasping for breath and moaning loudly.

“Please. Sir.” She whined. “I’m going to cum.” The finger circling her clit moved onto her clit and pressed firmly into her. The circular motion was smaller, faster, and harder. It was just what she needed and her muscles started a wonderful rippling of convulsions that radiated out from her core and into all of her limbs. She was sure that she was involuntarily making noises, but she could not tell what she sounded like. The elation of the orgasm was too consuming.

The hands all over her body gently slowed, but did not stop. They continued to massage her in all directions. The fingers working her clit slowed and slid down, stroking and parting her labia. They teased at her opening, exploring all the ways fingers could push and pull at her slippery flesh.

Then in a slow but determined motion, two fingers pressed their way in and filled her from the inside. They turned and shifted, as if they were searching for something. They began stroking upward, awakening that warm center. Another hand slid down her stomachs and took up residence at her clit. This one spread its fingers allowing her clit to poke up between them. The fingers slid up and down, stroking the left and right sides of her clit, gently squeezing it with every stroke.

The hands on her breasts grew more aggressive. Squeezing. Pulling. Pinching. All the sensations were forceful, and riding that fine line between pleasure and pain.

The fingers inside her changed from stroking her G-spot to pressing up into it and then relaxing down. They pressed up into it again, and then down. Up and down. Faster and faster. Like a low rumbling vibrator. The fingers were steady and strong. Pumping up into the wall of her vagina, and causing her inner energy to swirl. Through a wonderful mixture of pain and pleasure, Cindy announced she was going to cum again. The hands and fingers did not waver, but kept a steady rhythm of squeezing, pinching, rubbing, and stroking. Her second orgasm was bigger, deeper, and her muscles tensed under all of their hands.

As the waves of euphoria subsided and Cindy caught her breath, the hands began to disappear. One at a time they lifted away. They had provided a sort of cover, and now that they were leaving her skin felt very bare and exposed once again.

The only one to remain were the fingers inside her. The fingers continued to slowly bend and straighten, stroking the forward wall of her vagina. This constant attention felt good, like maintaining the warm coals of a campfire into the night.

Cindy thought again about how some stranger, or more than one, were looking at her private place. The fingers inside her were not moving the way Joe usually did. They were more gentle, but pleasantly persistent. They found a rhythm and stayed the course. While earlier she had been embarrassed and nervous about this contact from an unknown person, she now felt a sense of care from them. They were helping her, looking after her, and attending to her needs. They were bringing her pleasure and relaxation.

What was probably a finger tip touched her lips, delivering a drop of sweet tasting liquor. An earthy fruit of some sort, sweet with the vapors of alcohol. The sort of drink that is sipped after a meal. It was small, but it meant so much. It was a reward. She had made it through a difficult task, and they were showing their appreciation. It made her mouth water and reminded her nose that the kitchen smells were still lingering in the air.

Over time, hands and fingers returned to touching her, running themselves over her skin, and tracing along her curves. At times they played with her nipples, or brushed her clit, but they were now part of an all over body experience. It was a caressing of loving touches and admiration. She was their plaything, and the more they played with her the happier she was. At times the fingers teasing her nipples were replaced with mouths, sucking deeply at her breast. Tongues danced around her nipples, fluttering them back and forth.

Another tongue traced the center groove of her vulva, across her wet opening, and up to her clit. It circled, pressed, and explored the surrounding flesh and valleys. It was warm, friendly, and comforting.

Cindy felt a sense of pride at what she had done, what she had given of herself. Her fear and trepidation were all gone now, and she basked in being the physical body which has satiated their curiosities.

Eventually the touching stopped and Cindy’s focus returned to her blank void. There was no contact, no exchange, no vibrations in the table. She was alone again, but this time she was at peace with her state. She was present, she was calm, and she was happy.

A hand lifted her right ankle, unbuckled the cuff, and placed it free on the table. Cindy did not move it. The hands freed her other ankle and placed her legs together. They repeated the motions with her wrists, returning her arms to her sides. Cindy remained motionless. Letting the hands make all the decisions. They carefully removed the ear phones and ear plugs. The silence of the room seemed very loud to Cindy.

The hands cupped and held her breasts. One hand on each, swirling, squeezing, wrapping their fingers around. She was almost certain this was Joe. The way he held them, lifted them, kneeded them. The hands traveled up to her neck and the underside of her jaw, cradling her head for a moment. He slid the blindfold off her head and Cindy looked up into Joe's eyes.

“Happy Birthday, my good little sub.” Joe said, planting a very small kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you. Sir.” Cindy replied with a relaxed smile.

“Everyone is gone now.” He explained. “It’s just us.”

Cindy slowly sat up and moved to sit at the edge of the table. She flexed her elbows and knees.

“You did wonderfully.” He said, comforting her. “Are you OK?”

“Yes, sir.” She replied, happily focusing her eyes on his.

“I saved a plate of food for you.” Joe said. “I expect you are hungry.”

“Yes, sir.” Cindy replied, getting down from the table and standing before him. “May I eat now sir?” She asked.

“Yes. Of course.” Joe replied.

Cindy lowered herself to her knees. She unbuckled Joe’s belt, opened his pants, and pulled his erection from his shorts. Cindy kissed the tip, ran her tongue back and forth under his frenulum, and then took him into her mouth. With her eyes looking up into his, she slid up and down the length of his shaft, sucking him as deep into her as she could. She eagerly worked him, making him harder, getting him closer. She tipped her head back to align her throat with his shaft. His skin now glistened from her saliva. She could feel that her mouth was just as wet and drippy as the folds between her legs. The ridge of his glans traveled from her lips, over her tongue, across the roof of her mouth, and all the way back, filling the entrance of her throat. She could see in his eyes it was almost time for her to eat.