Ebony sat at her dining table nursing a cup of tea. Half full, the cup's only warmth was drawn from her hand, the tea stagnant, tepid. Her gaze was fixed on the large golden stag that stretched its figure across her table, a centrepiece to house candles. And thoughts. It was a contentious piece, with many of her visitors claiming it was far too large to be a table feature. Ebony knew their true objection was to the cock and balls that proudly hung between the stag's legs. Painted the same lovely gold, they were her favourite feature. Some people found the stag's genitals to be quite the distraction, indeed he was always hidden away for Christmas dinner. But it was natural, no?
A loud vibration shocked Ebony from her reverie. If her cup was any fuller it would have sloshed onto the table. She set the cup down, noting that the bag bobbed in cold liquid. Picking up her phone she realised with a start that it was 5pm. She was not due to leave for another three hours, but the time was passing far quicker than she would have liked. The cause of the vibration was a text from her friend Miranda "Good luck tonight, honey! I'm sure everything will go well. You'll do great!! Xx". Trepidation coiled in her heart, bleeding through her veins, pulsing in her sternum, filling her stomach with anxious acid. She stared once more at the stag and forced herself to breathe deep and slow. It would be fine, she thought, they know I am new to this, I'm sure they'll be understanding. Besides, I am the one who signed up for this, right? She took a sip from her tea, forgetting its lost temperature. Clicking her tongue with distaste, she decided it was time for alcohol.
A generous shot-and-a-bit of vodka, topped up with cranberry juice and ice. A cup full of courage. Ebony took a gulp, holding the tangy liquid in her mouth for a moment, allowing the piquant pleasure to play across her tongue. Swallowing it down, she revelled in the bite of the vodka, already feeling the uncomfortable tingling in her nerves settle. She gathered phone, drink and bluetooth speaker into her hands and took herself to the bathroom. With a little less than three hours to go, she may as well prepare at a leisurely pace.
She set her things on the counter top and selected some chilled dance music. Time to get excited. After another mouthful of vodka, Ebony turned the taps of her shower, allowing the water to burst from the head and cascade to the tiled floor. As she waited for the heat to grow, she stripped down until she was standing naked in front of her giant, wall-hanging mirror. The music was perfect, the beat infectious and she felt her body moving to the rhythm. She looked into the mirror at her reflection and smiled. It was apparently unseemly to be proud of your body, but Ebony felt that pride should be given where pride was due. She ran her hands over her skin, beginning at her protruding collar bones, her second favourite bone of all.
Over her supple, but slight breasts, charming her nipples to erection; down her curved belly and then between her thighs, lingering luxuriously at her clit. She let out a small sigh and noticed her reflection was clouding rapidly. The heat was filling the room with steam, moisture clinging to the air. Ebony took one last pre-shower sip of vodka and made to step under the water when her phone buzzed loudly on the counter top. She quickly glanced at it "Hey, babe, what you up to tonight?" She groaned superciliously. The text was from Chester, a man she worked with and once slept with. She wasn't the kind of person to regret things, but this one particular incident had left her with a vexing infatuation. She didn't like the man, simple as that. He was attractive and charming, but beneath the guise of gallantry he was a dickhead. And while she had enjoyed his dick head for one night, she knew she did not want to do it again. Ignoring the message, Ebony turned back to the shower and stepped into the deluge. She shuddered with pleasure as the blood heated in her veins and a tingle crept over her like a tidal wave. Two and a half hours left.
A second glass of vodka-cranberry saw Ebony through the hair and makeup process. As she sipped on her third, she selected an outfit. The clothing did not really matter, but the lingerie must be perfect. She tried on a simple magenta bralette with a g-string and stay-ups. Not enough. She swapped out the bra for one with black lace and padding, and exchanged the g-string for another to match. Still not enough. She finally settled on a red and black corset. It hugged her rib cage like the large strong hands of a man and cupped her breasts in a way that accentuated with realism. The straps were thin black ribbon, snaking down her chest to join a sweetheart cut. Extravagant amounts of black lace piled across the trim, winding down the curve of the boning. Visible beneath was a deep red satin, spotted elegantly with fine clear crystals. Slung over her slim waist was a black lace garter belt holding up black stockings with a heavily stitched line down the back of her legs. Her g-string was red satin, cupping her moist pussy gently, exposing her round, soft arse. She slipped her feet into a pair of red patent-leather pumps and strutted over to her full length mirror. Her dark hair was curled and bouncing upon her shoulders as she approached her reflected image. She popped out a rounded hip and extended a pale, toned leg. From top to toe her eyes drifted approvingly; perfectly arched eyebrows, beautiful lingerie, defined calves. Confidence radiated from her and the nerves she had been nursing into her cold tea earlier were dissipating rapidly.
Last minute touches included a spritz of vanilla perfume, another lick of crimson lipstick and a loose grey knit dress thrown over her luscious lingerie. As she drained her glass of the remaining cranberry concoction, she ordered a taxi and sat once more at her dining table. In no time she would be on her way. Nerves gathered in her diaphragm anew, mingling with glorious excitement. She imagined all the ways the night could go, knowing that there were too many variables to predict it. Her biggest concern was having her autonomy taken, her control suspended. But that was all part of the game. That was the thrill of it.
A muffled horn beep told her the taxi had arrived. She chucked her phone and wallet into a pre-prepared overnight bag that also held a warm change of clothes and sensible underwear and shoes. Hopping into the taxi she divulged the address hoping the driver did not know the hidden use of the building. Twenty minutes and several false conversations later, Ebony arrived at her destination. She paid and thanked the driver and stepped out into the cold. Walking with confidence, her heels clicking on the pavement, she entered the hotel and headed straight for the elevator. She already knew what floor she needed to be on and figured the receptionist was probably full aware of what went on there. Save the glowing of her cheeks for later.
She assessed her appearance in the elevator mirror, touching up her lipstick again. She could no longer detect her vanilla scent so spritz some more perfume at her throat and temples. She stared into her own eyes and gave herself a mini pep talk. This night is going to go well, she whispered. I am going to have fun and I will want to come back again. Everyone will be great, I will be great. It will just be great. She breathed deep and long. Her pep talk had not assured her. The elevator slid open and she stepped out into another foyer. There was a desk straight ahead, a tall and intimidating looking man stood behind it. Ebony steeled herself and strode over. The man was unattractive, scary almost, and doubt suddenly erupted within her. Maybe she could pretend she came to the wrong level? She could just turn around and walk out. Get another taxi home and drink tea with her horny stag all night. Then the man smiled and spoke. "Hi there. You must be Ebony! Just a moment." The man picked up a phone. "Ebony is here, ma'am." He hung up and looked back at her, grinning foolishly.
Ebony frowned. Was he mocking her? Before she could say anything a door to the left opened and out came the most breathtakingly beautiful woman Ebony had ever seen. Her tall figure glided over to Ebony, whose eyelids peeled wider in an effort to allow her retinas to absorb more of the woman. The woman smiled warmly and extended her hand for shaking. Ebony reciprocated, not taking her eyes off the woman's face. Her lashes were like wings, her cheek bones perfectly sculpted high upon her face and her lips were full and shiny and pink. She was mid-thirties, with wisdom in her irises and faint smile lines at the corners of her eyes. Ebony expected to feel apprehensive at this point and instead felt emboldened. As if the woman's beauty made her own beauty grow. So absorbed by the woman and fantasies of feeling her soft lips graze across her own, Ebony did not hear the first two times the woman introduced herself.
"Ebony? Ebony! Darling, are you okay?" The woman was touching her arm.
She blinked and breathed deep, "sorry, sorry I was distracted."
The woman smiled, a subtle smirk of amusement dashing across her parted lips. She glanced at the man behind the desk and Ebony glowered beneath his ridiculous grin. They both knew the cause of Ebony's distraction.
"My name is Emelda. I am the Mistress. Come, come." Her voice was husky, like she had a cold; that kind of husky you'd pay to hear. She clutched Ebony's hand in her own and pulled as she walked her through the door to the left. It opened into a carpeted corridor, with pale grey walls. Every three steps was an ornate wall light with chunky crystals for globes. The corridor was heavy with decadent anticipation.
"What are you wearing under that dress? Lingerie already?" Emelda asked matter-of-factly.
"Um, yes, I'm wearing a corset, garter belt and g-string," Ebony was suddenly doubting her decision.
"Fabulous," Ebony felt the pressure in her ribcage ease slightly at Emelda's response. "Colour?"
"Red and black," Ebony answered. Did it matter? Ebony thought. Perhaps this was just polite conversation.
"It doesn't really matter, but that combo's a favourite around here." Ebony felt she was on an emotional roller-coaster. She needed to calm down. How could the vodka already be wearing off? They had been walking down this corridor for a while now. How much longer?
A few more steps and Emelda stopped at a closed wooden door. She dropped Ebony's hand to turn the golden handle. The door opened into a large room, master bedroom size for the upper class. Against the left wall was a huge, ornate dressing table. It was a renovated 1920's piece with the original stool. Beside it was a portable bar, a large steel ice-tub sat central, surrounded by liquor options. The second shelf was home to a range of crystal glasses suited to the type of drink selected. Straight ahead was a half-wall sized mirror, framed in gold. It went from ceiling to floor and doubled the sense of size in the room. And to the right was a king-sized bed. Laden with thick blankets and too many pillows, it was a sumptuous sight. Hung on the walls were generous and colourful canvases, paint splashed and flicked and spread into shapes resembling the female form. Ebony stood for a moment, transfixed by the opulence.
"Ebony, this is you dressing room, so to speak." Emelda closed the door and led Ebony in. She walked straight to the bar and began pouring two vodkas. "It's where you prepare before the show and relax after the show. The bed is here in case you need sleep afterwards. Through that door is a bathroom." Ebony continued to nod even after she had a drink in her hand and Emelda had ceased talking. She was stunned by the room. It was much more than she had expected.
Emelda broke her reverie. "Ebony, talk to me. Are you alright? Come, come..." Emelda took Ebony's hand and led her to the bed, where they both sat. Ebony felt the bed sink beneath her weight, a spongey, comfy give.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just overwhelmed I think. This room is amazing."
"It's okay to be nervous," Emelda said soothingly, placing a warm hand on Ebony's leg.
Ebony took a swig of her drink. "Yeah, I'm pretty nervous."
"Well, you're in good hands." Emelda gave Ebony's thigh a little squeeze. It sent a pleasant chill right through to her belly. "Do you have any questions? I got you here a little earlier than I usually would so we could have a good chat."
Ebony looked into the woman's eyes. They comforted her. "I guess my biggest fear is if I freak out or something. Like, what if I use the safeword and no one listens?" The new glass revived the vodka that was already in her bloodstream.
Emelda smiled her glowing smile. "That's an understandable concern. Look, you and I are in complete control of the situation. If you say the safeword, I stop everything. If I stop everything then our guests stop everything. And if they don't, we have security. A lot of security."
"Okay, but, you're my master, right?"
"Yes. But that's just for show. And our mutual enjoyment. And so that someone is running everything, otherwise it would just be a fighting fuckshow. It looks as though you have no control, because that's what we've all signed up for. But everybody knows the rules and they all sign a contract to say that. Anything else?"
"What if I'm not wet enough?"
Emelda laughed at this one. "Oh, sweetheart. You will be." She took a sip from her drink and smiled warmly. Ebony felt herself melt into comfort. She was her partner in this, not truly her master. Ebony felt the gaze of the woman boring into her. She looked up to meet it and found desire there. "You really are a pretty thing, aren't you? I think we should get familiar before we go out there, yeah?" Emelda smirked suggestively and Ebony's heart pounded at her insinuation. She simply nodded and sort of laughed. She stood. "Up you get," she commanded. Ebony complied quickly. Emelda took the drink from Ebony's hand and placed it with her own on the dressing table. She moved back to meet Ebony, standing much closer than a new acquaintance should. She stared into Ebony's eyes, letting the perspiration gather in her palms. Ten thumping heart beats and heavy breaths later, Emelda bent slightly at the knees to reach for the hem of Ebony's dress. She bunched the knit fabric in her hands and pulled up, the material peeling away from her body to reveal smooth, snowy skin adorned in scarlet and obsidian. The dress dropped to the floor at Emelda's feet.
Emelda reached out and cupped her hand around the back of Ebony's head. As she stepped into Ebony's space she moved her face close to Ebony's, lingering a finger-width away. Ebony could feel her warm breath flowing over her cheeks, smelling the sweet scent of vodka and juice. Slowly, delicately Emelda dragged her supple lips over Ebony's. It was torturous, to feel her soft lips touch so gently when all she wanted to do was devour them. From Ebony's mouth, Emelda trailed across her cheek, in tiny kisses until she reached her neck. Chills of pleasure spiralled from her groin to her toes, snaking through her veins, awakening every nerve. She could feel her nipples harden, the flesh of her breasts aching to be held. Emelda nibbled at her skin, licked and sucked. Ebony moaned. She became aware of her own hands, limp at her sides and wondered if she could place them on Emelda.
Before she could make that decision, Emelda stepped away. Ebony's neck, abandoned, felt cold. Emelda dragged her hands over her own collar bones and hooked her fingers under the neckline of her silver satin robe to slide it over her shoulders. It snaked seductively down her body, pooling at her feet. She took Ebony's hand and guided her onto to the bed, pushing her to lie flat. Emelda proceeded to straddle the panting woman. She stroked her hands firmly down her torso, pausing only slightly at her breasts, and back up again. The crystals on the bodice scraped her palms. She liked it. Her hands wandered all across her body and Ebony lay there, delirious, letting out the softest of moans. Emelda began to kiss her once more, this time allowing her lips to part and her tongue to tenderly explore the other.
Ebony now had her own hands at Emelda's back, stroking down and around, creeping to the front daringly, not quite sure enough to delve into cleavage. Emelda let her hands travel gradually down again, this time passing Ebony's navel. A finger explored just inside the band of her panties before exiting to slide down her thighs. Down then up. Inner thigh this time. Her flesh was quivering. Goosebumps of pleasure bloomed across her skin. Anticipation pumped from her heart in bursts. Her mind filled with sparkling fuzz, pushing every thought that was not Emelda out of her head. She began to thrust her hips. Up. Gently. Drawing attention to what lay between her legs. Emelda ignored the attempt for what seemed like hours, forcing her hands instead to continue to explore Ebony's thighs and arse and tummy and breasts. She was supple. Soft. Smooth. Delicious.
Finally, Emelda allowed a finger to slide into the crotch of Ebony's panties and caress her warm pussy. Her finger slipped between her lips and up toward her clit with ease. Her lips were slick with the wetness of her arousal. She trailed her finger around Ebony's pussy. Up and down. Side to side. Firm then gentle. Her play drew moan after moan from Ebony's mouth, some soft and high, others guttural and orgasmic. She got wetter and wetter and Emelda could feel her hand was slick and warm.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Ebony jumped reflexively and tried to close her legs. Emelda was unperturbed and continued her play as she invited the stranger in. Ebony was startled and tried again to pull away, but Emelda was persistent, whispering that it was okay. Peering around Emelda, Ebony could see a man standing in the doorway, looking directly at the situation before him without even a glimmer of surprise. Ebony surmised that this must be common practice and relaxed.
"You're due out in ten minutes, Ma'am," he said with the direction of any back of house member before a stage show began.
"What a shame," Emelda breathed with regret. She pulled her fingers from Ebony's open legs. "Thank you, Gerard," she said sweetly. She waved him from the room with her clean hand and licked the other, walking to the bathroom door. Ebony lay on the bed still, catching her breath, resisting the urge to finish the task Emelda had begun in her panties. As her breathing slowed to a normal pace, she sat up, sliding her heels back on. From the bed she could see her reflection in the mirror. She looked mildly dishevelled, her eyes sleepy from the pleasure. She stood and walked over, seeing herself clearer with every step. She would need a little touch up.
Emelda emerged from the bathroom smiling. "Feeling better, sweetness?" Her honey voice was intoxicating. Ebony nodded dumbly. "Someone will come and collect you when we are ready for you to come out, okay?" Ebony nodded again. Emelda smiled and headed for the door, slapping Ebony on the arse as she passed. Ebony jumped. Emelda laughed. As the door closed, Ebony took a deep breath. Wow. She could still feel her blood pulsing between her legs. She cupped her own breasts and squeezed. Moaned. Smiled. Not long now before her first public disgrace.
A loud vibration shocked Ebony from her reverie. If her cup was any fuller it would have sloshed onto the table. She set the cup down, noting that the bag bobbed in cold liquid. Picking up her phone she realised with a start that it was 5pm. She was not due to leave for another three hours, but the time was passing far quicker than she would have liked. The cause of the vibration was a text from her friend Miranda "Good luck tonight, honey! I'm sure everything will go well. You'll do great!! Xx". Trepidation coiled in her heart, bleeding through her veins, pulsing in her sternum, filling her stomach with anxious acid. She stared once more at the stag and forced herself to breathe deep and slow. It would be fine, she thought, they know I am new to this, I'm sure they'll be understanding. Besides, I am the one who signed up for this, right? She took a sip from her tea, forgetting its lost temperature. Clicking her tongue with distaste, she decided it was time for alcohol.
A generous shot-and-a-bit of vodka, topped up with cranberry juice and ice. A cup full of courage. Ebony took a gulp, holding the tangy liquid in her mouth for a moment, allowing the piquant pleasure to play across her tongue. Swallowing it down, she revelled in the bite of the vodka, already feeling the uncomfortable tingling in her nerves settle. She gathered phone, drink and bluetooth speaker into her hands and took herself to the bathroom. With a little less than three hours to go, she may as well prepare at a leisurely pace.
She set her things on the counter top and selected some chilled dance music. Time to get excited. After another mouthful of vodka, Ebony turned the taps of her shower, allowing the water to burst from the head and cascade to the tiled floor. As she waited for the heat to grow, she stripped down until she was standing naked in front of her giant, wall-hanging mirror. The music was perfect, the beat infectious and she felt her body moving to the rhythm. She looked into the mirror at her reflection and smiled. It was apparently unseemly to be proud of your body, but Ebony felt that pride should be given where pride was due. She ran her hands over her skin, beginning at her protruding collar bones, her second favourite bone of all.
Over her supple, but slight breasts, charming her nipples to erection; down her curved belly and then between her thighs, lingering luxuriously at her clit. She let out a small sigh and noticed her reflection was clouding rapidly. The heat was filling the room with steam, moisture clinging to the air. Ebony took one last pre-shower sip of vodka and made to step under the water when her phone buzzed loudly on the counter top. She quickly glanced at it "Hey, babe, what you up to tonight?" She groaned superciliously. The text was from Chester, a man she worked with and once slept with. She wasn't the kind of person to regret things, but this one particular incident had left her with a vexing infatuation. She didn't like the man, simple as that. He was attractive and charming, but beneath the guise of gallantry he was a dickhead. And while she had enjoyed his dick head for one night, she knew she did not want to do it again. Ignoring the message, Ebony turned back to the shower and stepped into the deluge. She shuddered with pleasure as the blood heated in her veins and a tingle crept over her like a tidal wave. Two and a half hours left.
A second glass of vodka-cranberry saw Ebony through the hair and makeup process. As she sipped on her third, she selected an outfit. The clothing did not really matter, but the lingerie must be perfect. She tried on a simple magenta bralette with a g-string and stay-ups. Not enough. She swapped out the bra for one with black lace and padding, and exchanged the g-string for another to match. Still not enough. She finally settled on a red and black corset. It hugged her rib cage like the large strong hands of a man and cupped her breasts in a way that accentuated with realism. The straps were thin black ribbon, snaking down her chest to join a sweetheart cut. Extravagant amounts of black lace piled across the trim, winding down the curve of the boning. Visible beneath was a deep red satin, spotted elegantly with fine clear crystals. Slung over her slim waist was a black lace garter belt holding up black stockings with a heavily stitched line down the back of her legs. Her g-string was red satin, cupping her moist pussy gently, exposing her round, soft arse. She slipped her feet into a pair of red patent-leather pumps and strutted over to her full length mirror. Her dark hair was curled and bouncing upon her shoulders as she approached her reflected image. She popped out a rounded hip and extended a pale, toned leg. From top to toe her eyes drifted approvingly; perfectly arched eyebrows, beautiful lingerie, defined calves. Confidence radiated from her and the nerves she had been nursing into her cold tea earlier were dissipating rapidly.
Last minute touches included a spritz of vanilla perfume, another lick of crimson lipstick and a loose grey knit dress thrown over her luscious lingerie. As she drained her glass of the remaining cranberry concoction, she ordered a taxi and sat once more at her dining table. In no time she would be on her way. Nerves gathered in her diaphragm anew, mingling with glorious excitement. She imagined all the ways the night could go, knowing that there were too many variables to predict it. Her biggest concern was having her autonomy taken, her control suspended. But that was all part of the game. That was the thrill of it.
A muffled horn beep told her the taxi had arrived. She chucked her phone and wallet into a pre-prepared overnight bag that also held a warm change of clothes and sensible underwear and shoes. Hopping into the taxi she divulged the address hoping the driver did not know the hidden use of the building. Twenty minutes and several false conversations later, Ebony arrived at her destination. She paid and thanked the driver and stepped out into the cold. Walking with confidence, her heels clicking on the pavement, she entered the hotel and headed straight for the elevator. She already knew what floor she needed to be on and figured the receptionist was probably full aware of what went on there. Save the glowing of her cheeks for later.
She assessed her appearance in the elevator mirror, touching up her lipstick again. She could no longer detect her vanilla scent so spritz some more perfume at her throat and temples. She stared into her own eyes and gave herself a mini pep talk. This night is going to go well, she whispered. I am going to have fun and I will want to come back again. Everyone will be great, I will be great. It will just be great. She breathed deep and long. Her pep talk had not assured her. The elevator slid open and she stepped out into another foyer. There was a desk straight ahead, a tall and intimidating looking man stood behind it. Ebony steeled herself and strode over. The man was unattractive, scary almost, and doubt suddenly erupted within her. Maybe she could pretend she came to the wrong level? She could just turn around and walk out. Get another taxi home and drink tea with her horny stag all night. Then the man smiled and spoke. "Hi there. You must be Ebony! Just a moment." The man picked up a phone. "Ebony is here, ma'am." He hung up and looked back at her, grinning foolishly.
Ebony frowned. Was he mocking her? Before she could say anything a door to the left opened and out came the most breathtakingly beautiful woman Ebony had ever seen. Her tall figure glided over to Ebony, whose eyelids peeled wider in an effort to allow her retinas to absorb more of the woman. The woman smiled warmly and extended her hand for shaking. Ebony reciprocated, not taking her eyes off the woman's face. Her lashes were like wings, her cheek bones perfectly sculpted high upon her face and her lips were full and shiny and pink. She was mid-thirties, with wisdom in her irises and faint smile lines at the corners of her eyes. Ebony expected to feel apprehensive at this point and instead felt emboldened. As if the woman's beauty made her own beauty grow. So absorbed by the woman and fantasies of feeling her soft lips graze across her own, Ebony did not hear the first two times the woman introduced herself.
"Ebony? Ebony! Darling, are you okay?" The woman was touching her arm.
She blinked and breathed deep, "sorry, sorry I was distracted."
The woman smiled, a subtle smirk of amusement dashing across her parted lips. She glanced at the man behind the desk and Ebony glowered beneath his ridiculous grin. They both knew the cause of Ebony's distraction.
"My name is Emelda. I am the Mistress. Come, come." Her voice was husky, like she had a cold; that kind of husky you'd pay to hear. She clutched Ebony's hand in her own and pulled as she walked her through the door to the left. It opened into a carpeted corridor, with pale grey walls. Every three steps was an ornate wall light with chunky crystals for globes. The corridor was heavy with decadent anticipation.
"What are you wearing under that dress? Lingerie already?" Emelda asked matter-of-factly.
"Um, yes, I'm wearing a corset, garter belt and g-string," Ebony was suddenly doubting her decision.
"Fabulous," Ebony felt the pressure in her ribcage ease slightly at Emelda's response. "Colour?"
"Red and black," Ebony answered. Did it matter? Ebony thought. Perhaps this was just polite conversation.
"It doesn't really matter, but that combo's a favourite around here." Ebony felt she was on an emotional roller-coaster. She needed to calm down. How could the vodka already be wearing off? They had been walking down this corridor for a while now. How much longer?
A few more steps and Emelda stopped at a closed wooden door. She dropped Ebony's hand to turn the golden handle. The door opened into a large room, master bedroom size for the upper class. Against the left wall was a huge, ornate dressing table. It was a renovated 1920's piece with the original stool. Beside it was a portable bar, a large steel ice-tub sat central, surrounded by liquor options. The second shelf was home to a range of crystal glasses suited to the type of drink selected. Straight ahead was a half-wall sized mirror, framed in gold. It went from ceiling to floor and doubled the sense of size in the room. And to the right was a king-sized bed. Laden with thick blankets and too many pillows, it was a sumptuous sight. Hung on the walls were generous and colourful canvases, paint splashed and flicked and spread into shapes resembling the female form. Ebony stood for a moment, transfixed by the opulence.
"Ebony, this is you dressing room, so to speak." Emelda closed the door and led Ebony in. She walked straight to the bar and began pouring two vodkas. "It's where you prepare before the show and relax after the show. The bed is here in case you need sleep afterwards. Through that door is a bathroom." Ebony continued to nod even after she had a drink in her hand and Emelda had ceased talking. She was stunned by the room. It was much more than she had expected.
Emelda broke her reverie. "Ebony, talk to me. Are you alright? Come, come..." Emelda took Ebony's hand and led her to the bed, where they both sat. Ebony felt the bed sink beneath her weight, a spongey, comfy give.
"Yes, I'm fine. Just overwhelmed I think. This room is amazing."
"It's okay to be nervous," Emelda said soothingly, placing a warm hand on Ebony's leg.
Ebony took a swig of her drink. "Yeah, I'm pretty nervous."
"Well, you're in good hands." Emelda gave Ebony's thigh a little squeeze. It sent a pleasant chill right through to her belly. "Do you have any questions? I got you here a little earlier than I usually would so we could have a good chat."
Ebony looked into the woman's eyes. They comforted her. "I guess my biggest fear is if I freak out or something. Like, what if I use the safeword and no one listens?" The new glass revived the vodka that was already in her bloodstream.
Emelda smiled her glowing smile. "That's an understandable concern. Look, you and I are in complete control of the situation. If you say the safeword, I stop everything. If I stop everything then our guests stop everything. And if they don't, we have security. A lot of security."
"Okay, but, you're my master, right?"
"Yes. But that's just for show. And our mutual enjoyment. And so that someone is running everything, otherwise it would just be a fighting fuckshow. It looks as though you have no control, because that's what we've all signed up for. But everybody knows the rules and they all sign a contract to say that. Anything else?"
"What if I'm not wet enough?"
Emelda laughed at this one. "Oh, sweetheart. You will be." She took a sip from her drink and smiled warmly. Ebony felt herself melt into comfort. She was her partner in this, not truly her master. Ebony felt the gaze of the woman boring into her. She looked up to meet it and found desire there. "You really are a pretty thing, aren't you? I think we should get familiar before we go out there, yeah?" Emelda smirked suggestively and Ebony's heart pounded at her insinuation. She simply nodded and sort of laughed. She stood. "Up you get," she commanded. Ebony complied quickly. Emelda took the drink from Ebony's hand and placed it with her own on the dressing table. She moved back to meet Ebony, standing much closer than a new acquaintance should. She stared into Ebony's eyes, letting the perspiration gather in her palms. Ten thumping heart beats and heavy breaths later, Emelda bent slightly at the knees to reach for the hem of Ebony's dress. She bunched the knit fabric in her hands and pulled up, the material peeling away from her body to reveal smooth, snowy skin adorned in scarlet and obsidian. The dress dropped to the floor at Emelda's feet.
Emelda reached out and cupped her hand around the back of Ebony's head. As she stepped into Ebony's space she moved her face close to Ebony's, lingering a finger-width away. Ebony could feel her warm breath flowing over her cheeks, smelling the sweet scent of vodka and juice. Slowly, delicately Emelda dragged her supple lips over Ebony's. It was torturous, to feel her soft lips touch so gently when all she wanted to do was devour them. From Ebony's mouth, Emelda trailed across her cheek, in tiny kisses until she reached her neck. Chills of pleasure spiralled from her groin to her toes, snaking through her veins, awakening every nerve. She could feel her nipples harden, the flesh of her breasts aching to be held. Emelda nibbled at her skin, licked and sucked. Ebony moaned. She became aware of her own hands, limp at her sides and wondered if she could place them on Emelda.
Before she could make that decision, Emelda stepped away. Ebony's neck, abandoned, felt cold. Emelda dragged her hands over her own collar bones and hooked her fingers under the neckline of her silver satin robe to slide it over her shoulders. It snaked seductively down her body, pooling at her feet. She took Ebony's hand and guided her onto to the bed, pushing her to lie flat. Emelda proceeded to straddle the panting woman. She stroked her hands firmly down her torso, pausing only slightly at her breasts, and back up again. The crystals on the bodice scraped her palms. She liked it. Her hands wandered all across her body and Ebony lay there, delirious, letting out the softest of moans. Emelda began to kiss her once more, this time allowing her lips to part and her tongue to tenderly explore the other.
Ebony now had her own hands at Emelda's back, stroking down and around, creeping to the front daringly, not quite sure enough to delve into cleavage. Emelda let her hands travel gradually down again, this time passing Ebony's navel. A finger explored just inside the band of her panties before exiting to slide down her thighs. Down then up. Inner thigh this time. Her flesh was quivering. Goosebumps of pleasure bloomed across her skin. Anticipation pumped from her heart in bursts. Her mind filled with sparkling fuzz, pushing every thought that was not Emelda out of her head. She began to thrust her hips. Up. Gently. Drawing attention to what lay between her legs. Emelda ignored the attempt for what seemed like hours, forcing her hands instead to continue to explore Ebony's thighs and arse and tummy and breasts. She was supple. Soft. Smooth. Delicious.
Finally, Emelda allowed a finger to slide into the crotch of Ebony's panties and caress her warm pussy. Her finger slipped between her lips and up toward her clit with ease. Her lips were slick with the wetness of her arousal. She trailed her finger around Ebony's pussy. Up and down. Side to side. Firm then gentle. Her play drew moan after moan from Ebony's mouth, some soft and high, others guttural and orgasmic. She got wetter and wetter and Emelda could feel her hand was slick and warm.
Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Ebony jumped reflexively and tried to close her legs. Emelda was unperturbed and continued her play as she invited the stranger in. Ebony was startled and tried again to pull away, but Emelda was persistent, whispering that it was okay. Peering around Emelda, Ebony could see a man standing in the doorway, looking directly at the situation before him without even a glimmer of surprise. Ebony surmised that this must be common practice and relaxed.
"You're due out in ten minutes, Ma'am," he said with the direction of any back of house member before a stage show began.
"What a shame," Emelda breathed with regret. She pulled her fingers from Ebony's open legs. "Thank you, Gerard," she said sweetly. She waved him from the room with her clean hand and licked the other, walking to the bathroom door. Ebony lay on the bed still, catching her breath, resisting the urge to finish the task Emelda had begun in her panties. As her breathing slowed to a normal pace, she sat up, sliding her heels back on. From the bed she could see her reflection in the mirror. She looked mildly dishevelled, her eyes sleepy from the pleasure. She stood and walked over, seeing herself clearer with every step. She would need a little touch up.
Emelda emerged from the bathroom smiling. "Feeling better, sweetness?" Her honey voice was intoxicating. Ebony nodded dumbly. "Someone will come and collect you when we are ready for you to come out, okay?" Ebony nodded again. Emelda smiled and headed for the door, slapping Ebony on the arse as she passed. Ebony jumped. Emelda laughed. As the door closed, Ebony took a deep breath. Wow. She could still feel her blood pulsing between her legs. She cupped her own breasts and squeezed. Moaned. Smiled. Not long now before her first public disgrace.