Party

The party was in full swing. Guests mingling, talking and chatting. Glasses full of beautiful drinks, pink, blue, green. There must have been 50 people in the room already. The women were fashionably dressed in bright colors and high heels. The men looked sophisticated in dark suits or impeccably tailored jackets. It was clearly a circle that met frequently, they were greeting each other warmly, laughing and happy to see eachother.

The four slaves were each holding platters of hot and cold hors d’oeuvres. Oliver had sushi platters, the beautiful pink of the salmon, glossy white of whitefish, deep dark rich looking tuna. Sunil had a variety of canapés, miniature quiches, onion tarts, cheese puffs. Tanuja had delicate goat cheese and pate filled vegetables, endive and grape sized tomatoes. Nikki’s platters were laden with meat, little miniature lamb chops, toasts with roast beef and horseradish sauce, tiny boiled potatoes hollowed out and filled with duck ragout.

The smell was intense. Nikki could pick out each note of each of the flavors. The tomatoey sweetness of the ragout, the richness of the lamb. Her mouth was filled with the basket handle, the basket filled with napkins swaying under her chin. But it didn’t prevent her from salivating. She could almost taste them, the smells were so strong.

Nikki tried to relax. To tell herself this was just a task, a task like so many others she had been given. But it felt so strange – to be naked, bound by ropes, offering up napkins and hors d’oeuvres! Nikki felt the pole along her back. She felt the ropes crossing her chest, containing her. Holding her breasts, her waist, her belly. She felt them digging into her labia, holding her sex open, and running up her ass, digging into her anus. She knew she was completely exposed to these guests. She might be part of the furniture, but she was still Nikki and still naked at a party.

The guests would come by, she could hear snippets of conversation, and they would help themselves to a morsel of food. Sometimes they hardly even looked at her. Other times they might make a comment, point out the stripes on her ass, or the texture of her skin. Occasionally they would touch her, lifting a breast, tweaking a nipple, cupping her belly. She felt totally objectified. Her consciousness, her identity, didn’t matter at all. She was a physical manifestation and nothing more.

About half an hour after the start of the party, something happened. At first it was barely noticeable. It started as kind of a ripple, a sense of excitement, a change in the tone of the conversations. Nikki was only barely aware of it. But it seemed to grow, expand outwards. Somebody special had arrived. Nikki glanced over towards the door. She could turn her head a little and see that the crowd was gathered by the door.

“It’s Sylvie!” A woman next to Nikki was craning her head to see, and she had identified the new arrival. Nikki had no idea who Sylvie was, but it was clear that she was somebody important.

“Sylvie!” The man next to her seemed just as excited.

“She hasn’t been off her island for two years, nobody has seen her.” The woman was speaking in almost reverent tones.

“I heard that she had a big show, a retrospective, at a gallery in London, and she flew out for that.” The man was equally reverent. This Sylvie was an artist, obviously, of some importance.

“I wonder if she is going to buy a new slave at this auction? She hasn’t bought in years.”

“Well, I heard all this from Justin. He says that she is looking for two new slaves, there was more to the story, but I didn’t get all of it.”

Nikki felt a shiver of excitement. Whoever this Sylvie was, she was in the market for slaves. Humm. Nikki’s imagination started to race. She could be bought by Sylvie. The idea ran through her like an electric current. She was aware of her status – she was for sale. If this woman, this Sylvie, wanted to buy a slave, she could buy Nikki. Nikki had no idea where she would end up after the auction. It could be this woman’s island. She had an island! What kind of artist has an island?

The man and the woman had moved off now, closer to the clutch of people by the door. Nikki strained to get a glance, realizing that as she moved, she pulled into the ropes binding her. She felt them, tight across her stomach, her rib cage, her chest. She felt them dig in below her breasts, and felt them in her crotch. Intense. But she couldn’t see Sylvie.

Nikki strained to hear more scraps of conversation. A man came up to get an hors d’oeuvre. Nikki heard, “Mick Jagger visited her last year. Hell, if I had visitors like that I’d never leave the island either.”

It seemed like all the conversation was about Sylvie. Finally the crowd parted around Sunil, and Nikki could see a woman who had to be Sylvie. She was tall, slim, with a mane of dark curly hair. She was wearing a pair of tight pants, almost leggings, and a long coat of a lacy black material with a dark crimson baking so the dark red peeked through.

Nikki couldn’t take her eyes off the woman. It wasn’t that she was classically beautiful. She wasn’t. Her nose was too long, her face too narrow, her chin too pointy. But somehow all together she looked irresistible. This was the definition of charisma, Nikki thought. Somebody who pulled together the pieces and made a whole that was much much greater than the sum of the parts.

Sylvie had slaves with her. Nobody else at the party had brought a naked retinue. But there she was with three of them. All on leashes. All looking incredibly proud to be there with Sylvie. There were two girls and a boy. They, too, were charismatic. Again, not classically beautiful, not any of them. But very very attractive.

Nikki couldn’t decide what to stare at. Sylvie herself; every inch of her was fascinating. As Nikki looked she saw new details, an elaborately worked pair of gold earrings, the delicate leatherwork of her boots, the narrow stiletto heels, the way her pants were fitted to her beautiful legs. Every detail of Sylvie, from her hair to the tips of her boots was a conscious choice and a good one.

At the same time, the slaves were really interesting too. They were perfectly naked, except for their collars and leashes. But they somehow looked adorned, looked as if they had also been styled, consciously and deliberately. The three of them went together like a fine matched set. All dark haired, fair skinned, large boned, muscular. With a blush, Nikki realized they all looked a little like her. They had the same eastern European quality.

Ohhh. Nikki shivered again as she realized that she would fit in perfectly with the three of them. Would make an ideal fourth. Oh, what would that be like? To be part of a household, part of a set like that?

Nikki could see Sylvie with Sunil. The way the room was set up, she had a perfect view; one of the buffet tables was between them and it blocked the crowd from standing between her and Sunil. Sylvie had gone right up to him, her slaves trailing behind her. Sylive had cupped Sunil’s face in her hands. Nikki couldn’t hear what Sylvie was saying, but she was obviously talking to Sunil and Sunil was nodding his head.

Now Sylive was stepping to the side and positioning her male slave on the floor about 5 feet in front of Sunil. Oh! She was going to make Sunil cum on her slave. Nikki couldn’t hear any of the words, but it was clear that this was what she was going to do. How did she have the right to do that? Then Nikki remembered that Mark had explained that the guests would be able to pleasure the slaves, but there was a difference between pleasuring them and displaying them this way. How humiliating for Sunil.

Sylvie wasn’t even going to touch his cock. She was going to do this without touching him. She was whispering in his ear. Touching his nipple. Pulling on the ropes. Nikki saw her pull and she felt a sympathetic tightness in her own ropes. Felt how pulling them in one place made them tighter all over and saw how Sunil’s penis jumped as Sylvie tugged. Nikki watched, intent, as Sunil’s penis grew even more erect, she saw the pre-cum dripping.

Sunil was writhing. He was rocking his hips out rhythmically, as much as he could given his ropes. Each thrust of his hips just making the ropes dig into his belly, his sides, and as Nikki rocked with sympathetic arousal, she felt how each thrust also made the ropes tighter across Sunil’s anus.

Sylvie pinched Sunil’s nipple harder, whispered something else in his ear, and Nikki saw it happening. She saw Sunil’s muscles tighten. Saw him make one more thrust of his hips, and then his cum was shooting out, arching through the air. Nikki had seen this done a couple of times in training, but it still amazed her when a male slave came without any genital contact. A beautiful, impressive, act. Sunil’s arousal so intense and so perfect he didn’t even need to be touched. Just needed a word in his ear, and a touch to his nipple. Amazing.

Sylvie’s slave was on his knees, and now Nikki saw why. He was bobbing his head, trying to capture the spurts of cum in his mouth like a circus trick. He was like a trained animal being fed. It was incredible, but vaguely disgusting too. So humiliating. So dehumanizing. He caught most of it, and the other two slaves rushed to clean the rest off the floor with their tongues. This was obviously an act they had performed before.

The audience was impressed and applauded. But Nikki was still looking at Sunil. He hung now from his bonds, spent. He looked exhausted. Pleased, yes, but like all his life force had been drained from him. It must be quite an effort to make that happen. Nikki decided that one way or another she was going to get him to tell her about it, to describe what it had been like for him to cum like that, with no direct stimulation and the whole crowd watching.

But now the crowd was moving on to Tanuja. She was across the buffet table to Nikki’s left, so Nikki could see her too. Sylvie was stroking Tanuja’s hair, pushing it back and away from her forehead. But far from calming Tanuja, this seemed to be making her frantic. She was bound tightly to the pole, but was moving as much as her ropes would allow her. She was pushing her hips up and forward, her breasts shaking, her side and ribs even more constrained by the ropes.

Nikki still couldn’t hear what Sylvie was saying, but she could see Tanuja’s reaction. She was getting more and more worked up. Sweat was running down her sides. She was rocking into her ropes, Nikki could see how the ropes were digging into Tanuja’s ribs and her stomach. They must be so tight against her labia and her anus!

Tanjua was panting and straining, her face red, her eyes unfocused. Nikki could see the orgasm building, and building. Sylvie was still stroking Tanuja’s hair, talking to her softly. Tanuja was still holding on to the basket of napkins in her mouth, but Nikki could tell it was hard, as she was panting through it. Sylvie reached down, took Tanuja’s right nipple between her thumb and forefinger, and squeezed. Tanuja’s whole body reacted, she tightened all her muscles, and then, as the orgasm crested, she convulsed in spasms.

Nikki felt herself grow even more aroused as she watched. She could feel the moisture between her legs. She could feel her nipples, hard and tight. And she felt her breasts shake with each breath. Oh how she yearned for the same release. She hoped Sylvie would come to her next.

Not everybody at the party was following Sylvie from slave to slave. There were still others having conversations, talking, drinking, and eating hors d’oeuvres. Behaving as though nothing exceptional was happening. Nothing worth stopping and watching. Nikki couldn’t believe it. She found the show riveting.

Unfortunately, she wasn’t next and she couldn’t even see Oliver, the crowd was too thick between her and him. But she could hear the tension building, and she heard the crowd sigh and applaud when he reached his climax. She remembered the power of his eruption inside her, and she knew he must have sprayed quite a distance here. She could imagine it, imagine the jism shooting out and arching towards the open mouth of Sylvie’s slave. Quite an impressive display. She wished she could have seen it.

Now it would have to be her turn. She was the last one left. Sylvie wouldn’t do three slaves and then not do her. It had to be. She was sure of it. Sylvie must be on her way over. Nikki strained to see through the crowd. She wanted to be able to trace the magnificent woman’s progress as she headed towards her. Nikki didn’t mind savoring the wait, but she wanted to be sure Sylvie was really on the way. And she couldn’t see anything.

Nikki moved her head around, searching. She thought she caught a glimpse of a naked slave, but no it was just a woman in a strapless dress. Then she thought she saw the black lace of Sylvie’s coat, but it was a jacket worn by a very effeminate man.

Just when Nikki was about to give up, thinking that perhaps Sylvie had decided not to visit her, she felt something. A touch. On her back. Light, feather light. Just a shivery little touch, hardly a touch, a butterfly landing. It traveled through Nikki – tingles moving up her spine, along the back of her neck, up over her scalp. She felt the muscles of her thighs tighten. Felt her breath come harder still. It had to be. It must be.

It was. After that first touch, Nikki heard a whisper in her ear. “Ahh, my pretty. I saved you for last. Your arousal is so beautiful. I wanted to savor it.” Sylvie’s voice was as wonderful as her body. Deep, without being masculine at all, musical. She sounded like a singer. It was a voice Nikki wanted to relax into, lose herself to.

“I still want to savor it. I want to see just how aroused I can make you. I know I can make you cum, I could see that across the room.” Nikki listened to Sylvie’s voice in her ear, and it felt like a caress. She could feel the words on her body, the tingles traveling through her again, up her spine, behind her ears, over her scalp. It felt wonderful. Nikki could feel herself undulating in her bonds, her body trying to make contact, trying to get some satisfaction.

Sylvie continued, “I want to see if you have enough control NOT to cum. I’m going to touch you now and I want you to resist it. Do you understand me?” Sylvie’s voice was still soft, caressing, but it had an undertone of seriousness. Nikki knew this was extremely important. If she wanted to impress this woman, and she really wanted to impress her, she would need to control herself, no matter how hard it was.

Nikki nodded, the basket in her mouth making it impossible for her to even indicate her assent with her voice.

“Good girl. It won’t be easy. Give yourself over to me, give me your arousal, give it to me.” Sylvie’s voice filled Nikki’s head. Already it wasn’t easy. She could feel it, wanted it, felt right on the edge, and Sylvie hadn’t even touched her. Nikki tried to breathe as deeply as she could. That was something Mark had taught her to help her maintain control, to breathe deeply and focus on the breath.

“Inhale…. Exhale…. Inhale… Exhale….” Nikki commanded herself silently. She could do this! She knew she could. Nikki could feel her responses already, she knew that her nipples were fully erect, that her skin was flushed, that she was still rocking into the ropes, each movement of her hips pulling them tighter into her labia and against her asshole.

And then Sylvie reached her hand around Nikki’s side and cupped her right breast, Sylvie’s hand was warm and dry, lifting and holding the breast, pulling it away from the rope and holding it balanced in her hand. Nikki couldn’t help it, she pushed into the ropes harder, as if she was trying to curl her hips up to meet the hand on her breast – a physical impossibility, but Nikki was desperate. She wanted Sylvie to touch her everywhere.

“Ease off girl. Breathe.” Sylvie was right in Nikki’s ear. Nikki struggled to pull herself together. “That’s right, that’s good…. Focus my dear.”

“I can do this.” Nikki thought to herself. “I can. I’ve done it before. Just breathe.” But her hips were still rocking, the ropes pulling tight into her labia.

“You look so wonderful. You have no idea.” Sylvie was complimenting her, but Nikki didn’t care. She was vaguely aware of the fact that there were dozens of people watching this little scene play out. And she had some idea of how she looked - face a frantic mix of arousal and control, sensation and concentration. She knew her brow was furrowed, she was baring her teeth, and she could hear the small strangled sound she was making behind the basket handle.

“Good girl.” Sylvie was still holding Nikki’s breast. “Stay with me.”

Nikki kept breathing. She could feel the moisture oozing out of her cunt. Could feel it evaporating in the evening air. She could feel her thighs shaking as she tried to thrust enough to touch something, anything and get some relief.

“Now I’m going to make it a little harder. I’m going to touch your nipple.” Nikki groaned. How could she hold it with that? “But here’s a little trick. If you feel you are right there, about to go over, make yourself cough. It will hold it back just enough.”

Nikki tried to prepare herself, steal herself for this. And she was able to breathe through the first touch of Sylvie’s finger and thumb on her nipple. It was so difficult it was painful, Nikki converting the feelings of arousal to pain. Not willing to let it push her over the edge. But as Sylvie rolled her nipple between her long warm fingers, Nikki couldn’t take it. She pulled breath into her lungs and forced herself to cough.

It worked! The arousal backed off just enough for her to pull another deep breath into her lungs and breathe through it.

“Such a good girl. I’m impressed.” Sylvie released Nikki’s breast, her voice still soft in Nikki’s ear. “I’m going to leave you this way. Maybe someone will come take pity on you later. But for now, I want to see your face as I walk away.”

Nikki couldn’t believe it. Sylvie was going to leave her this way! She was desperate. Right at the edge. She had been good. She had waited. She had held off. And now she was going to be left this way! So unfair. So unjust. She let those feelings into her mind and just as quickly she let them float away. She was a slave. This wasn’t about fair or just. It was about submission. It was about giving herself over to the pleasure of her Masters and that meant letting them frustrate her. She let the realization of that flow into her.

Sylvie backed away from Nikki. She could see all the emotions playing through the slave’s face. She saw the frustration and then the anger, and saw it replaced with submission and peace. Saw the recognition of her status comfort Nikki. Sylvie appreciated the beauty of the submission. It was impressive indeed. Here was a slave worth considering for the auction, that was for sure.