After dinner

Charles had explained to Nikki what was going to happen. But there was a big difference between hearing it and doing it.

Charles stood. Pulled the table out to make it easier for Nikki to slide from the banquette. He stood in front of her, his back to the restaurant, his beautiful enameled fountain pen in his hand. And he deliberately dropped it on the floor.

Nikki looked down. She knew what was expected of her. Nevertheless it took every scrap of will power she could muster for her to bend down, keep going down until her knees touched the floor, keep going down until her face was inches from the carpet, her hands on either side of her face, and Charles hand made Italian shoes right in front of her eyes.

Mark had showed her the proper technique for kissing shoes. She knew what to do. She kept her lips parted. Pressed them to the instep of Charles’ left foot. She used a firm pressure so he could feel the contour of her lips. And she exhaled so he could feel the warmth of her breath. She lingered there for a moment. She could smell the fine Italian leather of his shoes. Rich and fragrant. Delicious actually. It felt like an eternity that she stayed there, lips pressed to his left shoe, but must have only been a second or two. And then she moved to the right foot. Lips parted, pressure, exhale, linger. She went through the steps as Mark had showed her.

Even though the actions were familiar, the experience felt completely new. Nikki was totally aware of the presence of the other diners, eyes on her. She was in public. In a “normal” place. She felt the submission of it. Felt the humiliation. Felt her ass in the air, her legs slightly parted, the air on her bare skin.

Nikki picked up the pen and gradually got to her feet. She felt the blood rush to her head and her face. She felt her entire body. Felt the cheeks of her ass against the silk of the dress. Felt her breasts settled in their cups. Felt her waist and her damp pussy. Felt everything more intensely and more acutely. Amazing.

“Well done.” Charles took the pen from her hand. “Come, my dear, lets go.” He put his hand on the small of her back, and guided her steps as they crossed the restaurant. She stood tall and proud, walking next to him, even though her face was flushed and hot, her skin shimmering, and she was acutely aware of the fact that she had just been on her knees in front of him.

Charles nodded to the maitre d’, who said “Good night Mr. Tilton” with a barely restrained leer. Either he knew what was happening – knew that Nikki was a sex slave – and was doing a reasonable job of hiding that knowledge, or he just suspected it and was doing a lousy job of hiding those suspicions. Either way, Nikki felt incredibly self conscious that everybody knew what was going on.

They crossed the lobby and waited for the elevators. A middle aged couple was standing there, he in a well cut suit, she in a rather dowdy cocktail dress. He looked Nikki up and down. Took in her flushed skin, her slightly sweaty hairline, her shining eyes. Looked at the cleavage exposed in this dress. Saw her incredibly high heels. Whether he knew the significance of the collar and cuffs, or just reacted to their beauty and the subliminal message of captivity conveyed by their tight circumferences, his eyes widened at the sight of them. The elevator came. His wife looked at him, looking at Nikki. She addressed Charles directly, “you go ahead. We’ll wait for the next one.” And turned to her husband. “Close your mouth, honey. It’s unattractive.”

As soon as the doors closed behind them, both Nikki and Charles burst into giggles. When Charles caught his breath, he put his hand on Nikki’s arm, and said “I think he was quite jealous of me, don’t you?”

“Oh yes, Sir. I think he was wondering what it would take to be you.”

“I should have given him my card – offered to sell him a slave. What was I thinking!” Charles slapped his forehead in mock stupidity. “If I see him tomorrow…”

By then the elevator had reached their floor and they stepped out into the serene hallway. There was something about the hallways at the Four Seasons that always gave Nikki a sense of peace and calm. She took a deep breath. Lovely.

Charles was staying in a lovely corner suite with a beautiful view. The lights were on low in the living room, creating a beautiful romantic atmosphere. The room had a large sofa, a number of overstuffed chairs, a desk for working at, and a small bar area. Through an open door, Nikki could see the bedroom with a high kingsized bed, fluffy comforter, and dozen of pillows.

The stereo was on low, Frank Sinatra’s smooth voice floating out, “we’ll just fly, starry eyed…”

“Come into my arms, I want to dance.” Charles’ voice was quiet, but authoritative. Reassuring. Confident.

Despite being in a hotel room with a man she had only just met. Nikki felt comfortable. Calm and sure of herself. She stepped closer to Charles, into the circle of his arms. He was quite tall, so even in these heels his right arm went comfortably around her back, under her arm, his left hand capturing her right. She put her left hand up around his neck as he held her to him.

It felt so nice as he started to move. He used subtle pressure to guide her, moving her in time to the music, swinging her around, moving her forward and back. He was a good dancer, such a good dancer that Nikki’s lack of knowledge of dance steps didn’t matter. She just relaxed into his arms and let him guide her.

Nikki had always wondered why more men didn’t understand the effect of a good dance on a woman. She felt wonderful. Beautiful. Graceful. Light on her feet. Womanly. It was almost euphoric. To have him gently guide her, touching her softly, his hand firm on the small of her back, ooooo, it was such a great feeling.

His age, his sagging skin, the bags under his eyes, all melted away in the face of his skill dancing. The combination of his dominant manner, the pleasure he had given her -- the food, the orgasm, and the intimacy of the conversation they had had over dinner —and this lovely dance, made her feel so close to him. She melted into his arms.

Charles could feel her connect with him. This was one of the most powerful elements of slavery; the ease with which the emotions and connections could be transferred. The connection moving with the authority. Nikki’s training at Mark’s hands translating directly to her submission to him. A beautiful thing.

He moved his hands lower, now wrapping both arms around her, allowing her to burry her head in his neck. He murmured softly in her ear. He traced the curve of her hip, caressed her waist, pressed her breasts into him. She spread her legs so he could move his thigh between them, and press into her sex.

It felt so good. Rocking back and forth, Charles’ thigh pressing into her, her breasts pressed into him. She felt her arousal building. Felt her breath catching in her throat. Felt him responding to her. Felt them building together, breathing, touching, connecting. She moved her hands on his back, feeling his muscles under his shirt. For a 71 year old he really was in remarkable shape.

His hands were on her ass now, pressing her into him. She moved on his thigh, pressing her sex into him rhythmically, in time to the music, but also according to her own rhythm, the rhythm of her desire. He pushed her into his leg tighter, his breath in her ear. She was making little noises now, like a trapped animal, at the beginning of each breath. Vibrating.

“No, dear, I’m not going to take you all the way, just yet. Hold it.” Charles was whispering in Nikki’s ear. “Breathe, hold it.”

Nikki struggled to contain her desire. She pulled air into her lungs, deep into her lungs. Focused on that. Held off the orgasm, just as he instructed her. But she could feel it. Feel it sitting right below the surface, ready to bubble over.

“I’m going to take you now. I want to taste you, feel you, experience you. Give yourself to me.” Charles guided Nikki over to the sofa. Pushed her down on her back and spread her legs. He pushed them up and back towards her shoulders, opening and exposing her sex. Nikki didn’t care. She was beyond being embarrassed by such things. All she wanted was the climax he was going to give her. She relaxed and let him manipulate her body, put her in the position he wanted.

Mark had told her that Charles was going to want to perform cunnilingus. She hadn’t really known what to expect, but she hadn’t expected this. She hadn’t expected to be so aroused coming into it. She hadn’t expected to want it so much. She hadn’t expected to be panting for it. But here she was, moaning as she felt his hands on her upper thighs, spreading her, opening her more.

Nikki felt Charles’ breath on her sex. She gasped. Her breath was ragged now. Coming in little flutters; with each breath she was making a little high pitched noise. She heard the noises, but it took her a moment to realize that it was her own noise, that she was making those noises. She heard the intensity of it. She sounded like a bird crying out. Oh how she wanted him to touch her already!

Charles breathed deeply. Hearing her. Knowing she wanted his touch. He breathed in her scent. He groaned. And she felt the vibration of his breath traveling up into her. He was right there, about to touch. Millimeters away.

“Oh, please, please. Oh, Sir. Please!” Nikki didn’t even make the choice to beg, she just started to beg. She was pushing against his hands, trying to move closer to his mouth. He was holding her off.

“You want it, slave?” Charles’ question was almost rhetorical. He didn’t really need the answer. But perhaps he just wanted to hear it.

“Oh yes, Sir, please, Sir. Oh, please. Please.” Nikki’s words tapered off to a kind of moan/cry as she felt his mouth finally make contact with her cunt.

It felt so good to finally have him there. Warm, wet, wonderful. Surprising. Almost a relief after all that anticipation. She felt Charles slide his tongue along the length of her labia, and then felt him move his lips directly onto her clit. He had his lips all around her and was moving his tongue rhythmically up and down.

Nikki felt the sensations building. She was crying out now, her voice rising with each breath. She felt like her clit was connected directly to her central nervous system. She could feel the electrical pulses traveling up her spine, expanding as they reached her brain.

She felt as if she was climbing a mountain, each movement of her tongue pushing her a little higher, higher. Her legs were shaking, her thighs vibrating, her feet clenching, her stomach tight. His hands were still holding her, spreading her wide. Her hips bucking under him. She was spread so wide, so totally open. She felt almost inside out.

The sensation was still building. Warm waves of pleasure flowing through her. Charles sucked her clit deeper into his mouth, pulling from deep in his diaphragm. It was almost too much, the sensation so intense. Like he was sucking her deep into his body, right on the border of pain; only not pain because her arousal was so intense. Her voice went down a register. She was grunting and shaking, pushing her hips forward.

The feeling crested, but not all the way, just held her in this suspended state of intense arousal, the pleasure flowing. She could feel her vagina clench under Charles’ face but the sensation was still building, it wasn’t over. All her muscles tightened even further. She felt the blood flowing in her sex. Felt the tissues pulsing. And then she went all the way over.

Nikki held her breath and then cried out as she felt the waves pass over her. Her muscles clenched a final little bit and then relaxed. Her vagina spasming, the tension flowing out. She cried out again as the intensity of the sensation hit her. She felt as if she had climbed a mountain and was coasting down the other side. It felt so good.

She knew she didn’t have the right to touch him or direct him, but she couldn’t stand any more stimulation on her clit. She had to get his mouth off her. She reached down and gently pried his face away,

“Oh, Sir! Ohhhh” She collapsed back onto the sofa. Her body drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. Trying to get enough oxygen into her lungs. She felt like a liquid pool of slave flesh, or a jellyfish. She couldn’t move. She literally felt that she couldn’t move her arms or legs.

Charles moved up on the sofa to look down at Nikki’s face. He spoke softly into her ear. “You look so beautiful in this moment, totally undone. You have lovely reactions, my slave. So responsive, so sexy.” He was talking to her, but it was almost like he was talking to himself. He was murmuring, as if she weren’t even there.

Charles leaned over and kissed her on the lips. His face was slick with her juices, his mouth tasted of pussy. She accepted the flavor, absorbing it, thinking of the sensation, the submission of it. Her own flavor, on this man’s lips. This man she had only just met. This man she barely knew, but felt so intimate with. This man she had shared so much with, shared things she hadn’t shared with anybody else. The intimacy part of the submission.

“Oh, my dear. Your gifts are glorious.” Now Charles’ voice was back to commanding, directive. He took out his handkerchief and wiped his face. “But being a slave is not all about romance and tenderness, it’s not all about pleasure taken from you. It is also about obedience.”

Charles took Nikki by the hand and helped her up from the sofa. “Down on your knees, legs wide, in Nadu. Now.”

Nikki tried to shake off her post-orgasm languor and get her head back into being a slave. She needed to obey him, no matter how mellow she was feeling. She knelt down, the silk of her dress settling back around her. “Yes Sir.” She kept her voice steady and strong. After all, she was a slave. She summoned her training.

“I’m going to test your obedience skills. We are going to play some games.” Charles seemed emotionless, businesslike.

Nikki struggled to pull herself together. It seemed such a wrenching transition to go from the romantic dance to being on her knees. From the wonderful sensations of being brought to orgasm as Charles had brought her, to this commanding directive. She felt the strength of her slavery even more intensely because of it.

“Ok, dear. On your hands and knees. Bring me my briefcase. I have some nice toys in there that you will like playing with.” Charles’ voice was firm, and slightly menacing. The toys didn’t sound like they would be that nice from his description. Nikki was a little worried, but she knew her training had prepared her for this. That she would be able to play whatever game he expected her to play. That she was, after all, a sex slave.