5 comments/ 36373 views/ 9 favorites It's A Slut World, After All By: OnnaDare A Halloween Costume Contest and a chance meeting with a mysterious Asian businessman awaken a new side to Anna, a pretty blond 30-something with a wild streak in a small Iowa town. * Ringgggg. It's...his phone. It's him. "Yes, sir?" I respond, my voice soft, "You...need me?" "Indeed, bui," the deep, lightly-accented voice answered back, "I need you. Please be prompt. You know where to find me, and you will...be wearing what I sent you." "Yes, sir," I answered, "Anything you say." I suppose... I'd better explain. It started last Halloween, when I met...Sir. It was just another cool, crisp day, the 31st of October, a Friday, to be exact. I was late, as usual, to a lunch meeting of the fundraising committee for our local Animal Shelter. As I hurried into the chic-est coffeehouse of our small Iowa town, I stopped to organize my papers, catching sight of myself in the mirrored door, and ran my fingers through my shoulder-length blond hair to smooth the fly-aways that the wind had whipped on my short walk from the car. Rushing in, I spied my table, and the meeting already in full swing. "Sorry, dears," I smiled at the assembled ladies, "I tried to get away from the office as fast as I could -- so sorry I'm late. Did I miss anything?" We dove right in, discussing our fundraising plans for the upcoming Christmas season, as we poured coffee and gossiped over our vegetarian lunches. "Heaven forbid an animal lover like myself be caught dead eating meat with this crowd," I thought ruefully as I peered over my cranberry and arugula salad, "They might be against animal cruelty, but I have a feeling that if I started to pound a burger, they'd cut a bitch." And then I saw him. At the table opposite us, a group of businessmen consisting of three impeccably dressed Asians, two less-well-dressed locals, a pile of papers and briefcases. Most likely, they were supervisors of the electronics factory in town that had just been bought by a firm in Hong Kong. That had to be it. Let's face it, there isn't too many Asians wearing Burberry around these here parts. I guess I was staring, but his dark almond gaze never left mine. His eyes were cool, commanding, almost imperious, daring me to look away. I did, my eyes shifting downwards, embarrassed. Had I just committed a...racist act? I think I remember hearing something about direct eye contact and Asian cultures. "Oh, shit." I thought to myself, horrified, "I hope they don't lay off a bunch of guys because I just did something stupid." Throughout the rest of the lunch, I scarcely glanced up, but when I did, his mysterious gaze was upon me. I hurried through the rest of the meeting, hoping to beat a hasty retreat. I motioned for my check and made a dash for the cashier in the lobby. I leaned on the counter, grabbing a candy bar from the jack-o-lantern bowl, impatiently waiting for her to appear. "Excuse me, Miss," a deep, musically-accented voice called from behind me, "Is this where we pay?" I turned to see the Asian businessman that I had locked eyes with at lunch standing before me, smiling a sly smile. He was about my height, five foot eight or so, but even though expensive tailoring can hide a lot of sins, he was...built. He was really filling out that suit, if I must say. "Do we call the...cashier?" he asked, smiling, showing even, white teeth, "I'm in a bit...of a rush." He pulled up his sleeve, just a bit, to check his watch. A fucking Rolex, I shit you not. "I'm sure that they'll be here...in a minute," I smiled back at Asian Rolex Guy, my elbows propped on the counter, giving him a nice view of my, shall we say, "healthy" upper body. "You can go ahead of me, if you like. I've got plenty of time." He stepped past me to the counter, his hands idly toying with the Halloween decorations. He turned his head towards me, his eyes dark, a mischievous smirk on his lips. "What is all this...Halloween?" he started, "Do you all...revere spiders?" "What is Halloween? Oh shit, how can you explain this to someone who doesn't already know? A holiday where we give candy to kids so they won't vandalize our houses? A reason for normally sane adults to dress up all crazy and get sloppy drunk?" I thought hurriedly, and answered with a hopeful smile, "Halloween? I suppose you could call it a "Festival of the Dead. I'm sure you have a holiday like that...in...where you live?" "Yes, we do. But it is in April." He smiled back slyly, "We honor our ancestors by decorating their graves and holding family feasts. No spiders. Do you have family feasts, as well?" "Not really," I stifled a giggle, "But we do like to celebrate with our friends and family -- by dressing up in costumes and having parties. There should be quite a lot of them in our local establishments tonight. Perhaps you'll be able to see for yourself." "Perhaps I shall," he said evenly, his gaze fixed on mine, "By the way, my name is Anthony. Anthony Cheung. And yours is?" "Mine's Anna," I said brightly, offering my hand, "Nice to meet you. Are you enjoying our little town?" "Yes, immensely." Anthony answered back, his handshake firm, "The people here are so...welcoming. I enjoy...getting to know them." The cashier stepped to the counter and Anthony took out his credit card -- an American Express Black Card, his mysterious stare never leaving me. I tried not to gape, I mean, who has that kind of money? The kind of guy who buys factories, I guess. "You can take care of her bill, too," he murmured to the cashier, "And here's something for the waitress." He pushed a hundred-dollar bill into her hand, the cashier's shocked look mirroring mine. "I was so nice to meet you, Anna," he purred, "I hope...to see you again." I watched him, my eyes wide, as he left the lobby to rejoin his table, his shoulders square, his gait, regal. Just as he disappeared from our puzzled view, he turned, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at me, his lips puckering slightly in a little kiss to the air. Or, was it to me? I'll admit, it sent shivers -- good ones -- down my spine. "Damn, I could get used to those people," the cashier loudly whispered to me as I backed towards the door, "They can come anytime." "I completely agree, sister," I mused to myself as I exited the shop, certainly intrigued by what had just transpired, "He could come to me...anytime." Back in my car, checking the umpteen messages that my friends had left me while my phone was off during the meeting, I hurriedly texted out replies. Yes, we were going to meet at the Costume Ball at 8. No, I don't need a ride. Yes, you can borrow my black spike heels. No, I don't want to "pre-game" at your house before I get there. Done and done. And now just 4 hours left of work before I can - we can get ready. My four best buds and I are going to rock it tonight, to be sure. We're going as a theme for the costume contest at the ballroom at the best hotel in town, and this year, we're going to win! Last year we went as Sister Nita Man and the girls from "The Immaculate Conception School for Wayward Girls," with our best gay friend Kyle, dressed in a nun's habit, as Sister Nita Man. We were all in plaid skirts, white blouses with neckties, and pillows stuffed in our shirts to make us look pregnant. Kyle played it up to the hilt, blessing everyone, chasing us around with a ruler, smacking our asses, and we had so much fun! The pose-off was a hoot, and we sang, "Sixteen Going on Seventeen," for the karaoke portion of the contest...with a few somewhat obscene substitutions in the lyrics. And we came in third. "But tonight, the five hundred dollar bar tab will be ours," I promised myself, "Damn the torpedoes, and the country club set, they're not going to outdo us this year." Oh, our theme this year, you ask? "It's a Slut World, After All." We're all going to be dressed up as hookers from around the world. Cool, huh? Liz is going as France, with a black side-slit pencil skirt, off-the shoulder tight striped top, fishnets, come-fuck-me pumps and a beret. Susan's going as Germany, with an authentic dirndl and white thigh-highs, braids, and a beer stein, of course. Alicia's taking Mexico, with a peasant dress, fishnets and a sombrero, and Tiff's got the U.S.A. -- she's wearing her cheerleading outfit from High School, which just happens to be red, white, and blue. And me? I'm wearing a qi pao, one of those traditional Chinese dresses, the ones like you see in the movies, silk, with a high neck and slits up the sides. I'd had it made for a friend's theme wedding a few years back, and it still fit like a glove, all red and gold and very, very sexy. "It's a Slut World," was my idea this year, mainly because I wanted to wear that dress again. Coming home to primp, I slid into the hot bath, the warm water washing away the day. I lay back, my eyes closing, as I thought back to my encounter with the Asian executive. He really couldn't be interested in me, could he? His dark, mysterious almond eyes certainly signaled...something. "Maybe you're just reading into things," my inner voice chided, "He's a sophisticated man, an international executive, probably. He couldn't possibly be interested in a thirty-year-old secretary." Or could he? My soapy hand lathered my breasts, my nipples firming to the touch His dark, tilted eyes and regal stare haunted me as my fingers slipped between my legs, softly stroking. "You know what they whisper about Asian men, don't you?" I murmured to myself, "They're skilled...in many ways." My soap-slicked fingers found my clit, sliding between the wet folds as I fantasized about dark, powerful men with tilted almonds eyes and imperious smiles, their golden-tinted hands on my body, ripe for the taking. They would smell of musk and exotic spices, and would whisper in my ear how exciting I was, how forbidden, how...mmm...mmm... I felt my orgasm, warm and soft and sweet, lapping over me like the splashing bathwater. Sighing, I grabbed the razor, making sure to groom myself to a fare-thee-well. I'll be wearing a thong, and I guess I'd be spoiling the surprise if I told you why I needed to be spotless. It's my -- our secret weapon, so to speak. You'll find out later. I blow-dried and wound my hair in a French twist and applied my make-up, heavy pancake, dark red lips and thick black eyeliner tilting upwards, china-doll style. I slipped into a red lace bra and red silk thong before sliding on my red fishnet stockings and matching garter belt. I caught sight of myself in the mirror as I crossed my apartment to pour a glass of wine from the fridge. "Not bad, not bad," I smiled to myself, taking in my full curves highlighted by the risque undergarments, "If I say so myself. And I do!" I sat to sip some wine and text my girls that I would soon be leaving, I'd meet them in the lobby, and yes, I won't forget the pumps. It was already 7:30 as I slipped my dress over my head, my arms straining to zip the back. I smoothed it over my frame, feeling the deliciously silky fabric hug every curve. Now that I'd gotten all the tricky little things done with dressing, I glued on my one-inch-long red dragon lady fake nails, waving my hands while they dried, slipped on my shoes, the gold pumps with four inch heels, and stepped in front of the mirror for one last check. "Smoking hot," I mused, "We're gonna kick ass!" Clutching my sequined bag and the black pumps for Liz, I stepped into the bright hotel lobby, ducking past the large sign announcing, "Halloween Costume Contest - Groups and Singles -- Cash prizes -- Tonight," relieved that the other girls were already assembled, giggling and preening. They turned to see me with squeals of approval, Tiff jumping up and down, waving her pom-pom's, "Oh my god! Me likey! You look so hot! Love your nails!" "We're going to do so good tonight, I think we should start putting a dent in that bar tab right away!" Liz said, slipping on the pumps I'd brought her, "There's quite a crowd, already." "Ve know," Susan trilled, shaking her braids, "Ve haf already been checking out da competition, ya? I tink ve haf a good chance, no?" We steeped into the ballroom through the doorway hung with black crepe paper and balloons, our eyes darting, taking in the scene before us, scanning the dark, crowded room for our immediate competition. There was the usual, of course, cross-dressing guys, two sets of people going as the Wizard of Oz, several sets of people dressed up as classic movie monsters, a few robots and pumpkins and superheroes, and a couple of people in ultra-realistic animal costumes. "Damn furries," Alicia giggled, pointing, "They live for this stuff, I swear. Those perverts ruin it for the rest of us...perverts." And... there they were, lounging by the bar, our main competition, six guys in a letter-perfect reproduction of the Village People. Shit. "Look at those guys," Tiff hissed, "We're screwed." "I think we should get some drinks and start lobbying the room, girls," Liz purred, "A little - Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir -- that'll get them to vote!" "Agreed," I smiled, "You vote, me love you long time! Let's get a table." We found a free table and Susan volunteered to retrieve our drinks, "Yust like a good Yerman girl, ya?" We sipped and laughed, joking with the other partygoers in our outrageously bad accents as they stopped at the table, buying us drinks and asking us to dance. "We must be making a good impression," Tiff shouted over the booming techno music, "I don't think I've paid for a drink since we got here!" One of the Village people sauntered over. It was the Construction Worker. Leaning over the table, he grinned at me, pulling down his mirrored aviator shades. "Nice work, girls," he grinned, "Hope you don't mind second place. But, just to show I'm such a good sport, would you like to dance?" "Don't mind if I do," I grinned back, "But, hey, shouldn't you be asking one of the Dracula's instead?" "Very funny," he shot back, "Come on, dragon lady. If you're nice, I just might let you drink off my bar tab, and hey -- we're having an after-party at my condo. For winners only, but we'll make an exception for you girls." He took my hand, pulling me to the dance floor, where we boogied to yet another round of "Monster Mash." I was really working it, in character, my arms posing prettily in my approximation of Asian dancing, as Construction Worker tried to grind me from behind. I pushed him away, spinning around and laughing, "This ain't free, ya know! You'd have to pay, and you couldn't afford me. You're my competition! And you're gonna go down!" And then, I turned and saw...him. Anthony Cheung, seated at a dark table towards the back of the room with the other two Asian businessmen from the coffeehouse earlier today. They were wearing designer gear, black, open-necked shirts, thick gold chains at their necks. Anthony caught my eyes, raising his glass to me with a seductive, beckoning smile. The music stopped, and I was drawn to his magnetic gaze, crossing the crowded room to his table. "Holy shit," I thought worriedly, smiling my widest, "The way I'm dressed. What if I've just committed another racial faux pas?" "Excuse...me, Anthony?" I started brightly as I approached their table, "I hope I'm not bothering you -- I'd thought I'd stop by and say hello. Are you...enjoying our little party?" "Yes, tremendously." Anthony said, his voice low and measured, "It has been very...enlightening. Your "Festival of the Dead" is truly a festival." Anthony smiled up at me, his dark eyes sparkling. "You look very lovely, Anna. Where did you get that qi pao that you're wearing? It looks authentic. Did you know that red and gold are the traditional colors for a bride to wear in our country?" "It was custom made for me, from Hong Kong, actually. For a friend's wedding," I smiled back, relieved I'd not offended. "We all had a good laugh when we saw what size I wear, in Hong Kong sizes. I wear a size...extra-extra large. It made me feel -- really fat," I giggled hopefully, "In U.S. sizes, I wear a size eight, which is small, here." "You are not fat," Anthony purred back, "You look very...healthy." Just then, I heard Liz's voice, waving frantically and calling from across the room. "Anna! Get over here! The contest is starting!" "You'll have to excuse me," I smiled, "The "festival" contest is about to begin. Wish me luck!" "Gaai hang, Anna," Anthony murmured, his dark eyes locked on mine, "I look forward to seeing you again." As I turned to leave, I saw his associates whisper something to each other, and clink glasses as they grinned, their eyes fixed on me. "I hope gaai hang means something good," raced through my mind as I strutted across the floor, swinging my hips to the beat of the music, "Well, at least... I'm making an impression." I rushed over to join the girls, already queuing up at the side of the stage, scanning the rowdy crowd, as the deejay introduced the participants for the Groups competition, posing and dancing to the music as the crowd cheered for their favorites. I scanned the groups, five in all, Us, some gothy vampire types, the Wizard of Ozzer's, a group of doctors dressed in surgical scrubs, and the Village People. "I can already start spending that bar tab," I thought hopefully, "They'll be sure to pick hot chicks over - hot dudes? Come on, we're gonna kill!" "Good Christ, where were you?" Tiff exclaimed, punctuating her words with a shake of her pom-poms as I swung in beside her, "We're going right after the "Twilight" gaywads!" We stepped onto the dance floor as the music kicked into 2 Live Crew's "Me So Horny," the crowd roaring with delight, as the deejay boomed, "And...the next group of...ladies, is..."It's a Slut World, After All!" Give it up for our own United Nations! Strike a pose!" We all started doing our little dances, I swung my hips, taking little mincing steps, batting my eyes at the hooting throng, Liz sashaying, blowing kisses to the audience, Susan bouncing outrageously as she waved her stein, Alicia throwing down her sombrero and doing a little Mexican Hat Dance, her heels tapping, and Tiff, wowing all assembled by doing a split jump while chanting, "U.S.A.! U.S.A.!" The crowd chanted along, laughing and clapping as the music died down and we fled the dance floor, high-fiving and hugging. "Just wait until they get a load of our karaoke! We can't lose!" Alicia squealed, twirling her full skirt, "Especially when they see our surprise!" We anxiously awaited our turn, sipping the drinks that admirers had thrust into our hands as we stood to the side of the dance floor. Finally, our turn was called and we strode onto the floor, waving and smiling to the applause, picking up our mikes as we started to sing, "It's a world of hookers, A world of Johns, It's a world of cash, And a world of cons. There's so much that we share, That it's time you're aware, It's a Slut World, after all! There is just one MOON, And one golden sun. And a dollar means, Friendship for every one. Though the money divides, And the legs, they are wide, IT'S A SLUT WORLD, AFTER ALL!" As we started the second verse, we turned our back to the cheering, hooting crowd, and flipped our skirts up when we shouted the word, "MOON," showing off our nearly-bare thong-clad rear ends, much to the delight of all assembled. We exited the floor, bowing and curtsying, laughing and blowing kisses to their roar. We couldn't lose! It's A Slut World, After All But we did. Fucking Village People. Fucking Y.M.C.A. Fucking second place. "That shit was rigged," Liz hissed in my ear as we retrieved our second place prize of a small loving cup and a one-hundred dollar bar tab, "We were so much better than them. They didn't even change the lyrics of their song." "Splitting a lousy hundred bucks five ways," Susan sighed, "I paid more than that for the rental of this dumb dress. Let's sit down and drown our sorrows, eh?" "I...gotta pee. I'll be back in sec," I replied, smiling as cheerfully as I could, "Come on, it's not so bad. At least we placed." I sidled from the darkened ballroom to the too-bright hallway towards the bathroom, the music and cheers for the singles contest ringing in my ears, feeling a bit dejected. I reapplied my lipstick and tidied up, holding the sink for assistance, feeling the effects of the oh-so-plentiful drinks I'd been imbibing, and frankly, the let-down from our loss. "I'm going home," I thought wearily, "Just not in the mood for an after-party. I'll go tell the girls I'm taking a cab." As I stepped from the bathroom, dialing up the cab company, I looked up to see Anthony moving towards me from down the corridor, his arms outstretched. He took my hands in his, holding me at arms length, his eyes shining, a slight smile on his lips. "Anna," he spoke, his voice low, "Congratulations on your showing. We...I...really enjoyed your performance. You girls looked very beautiful. Especially you. You all should have won, in our opinion. You have made this Halloween festival quite enjoyable for us." "Thank you, you're too kind," I murmured back, lost in his almond eyes, "I'm glad you enjoyed it." Anthony, still holding my hands, his gaze steady, his tone measured, murmured, "Would you do me the honor of letting me make your loss up to you? I'm in room...501. The Presidential Suite. I'd certainly...like to get to know you better. I would make it worth your while, san noeng, you may be assured." "I...I'll think about it," I whispered back, "At any rate, I should go and tell my friends that I'm leaving, I don't want them to worry." "Think if you want, but I shall be waiting for you," Anthony purred as he released my hands and turned towards the elevator, "And don't make me wait too long. I'm...used to getting what I want, when I want... it." "Anthony," I called to his broad back, my curiosity rising along with my libido at his wanton invitation, "What does san noeng mean?" He turned, a half-smile lighting up his face, "Bride. It means bride." I watched him enter the elevator as my heart started pounding, my mind reeling with a mixture of alcohol, curiosity and desire as I considered my options. "A night with a wealthy, powerful, mysterious Asian man, sitting home alone or binge drinking at some nasty after-party? I'll...do it! And...get paid for it?" I thought wickedly, "Who will ever know, but me?" I crossed the ballroom, spying our table, ringed with admirers two deep, laughing and flirting with my friends. "Good, they'll never miss me," I mused wickedly, smiling to myself. "I'll just play sick." "Guys!" I shouted over the blaring music as I reached the table, "I'm not feeling too good. I called a cab, I'm going home." "Whaaat?" Liz yelled back, "You're leaving? You okay?" "I'm fine!" I shouted back, "Just a little too much to drink. I ...gotta go." I left to a chorus of "Bye's!" and dashed for the hall, and seeing it empty, pressed the button for the elevator. My heart was pounding so hard I thought it was going to leave my chest as I stepped off at the fifth floor and stopped to softly knock at room 501. The door swung open and Anthony stood in the doorway of the lushly decorated suite, a glass of scotch in his hand, his shirt unbuttoned slightly, hinting at a thickly muscled, hairless chest, his intricate chain gleaming a rich gold. "24 karat, no doubt," I mused as I stepped in, my eyes widening in a mixture of apprehension and arousal, "No...turning back now." "Anna, you've come," Anthony smiled, his dark eyes welcoming, "I'm honored. Do come in." He took me by the hand, leading me past the sparkling floor-to ceiling windows and the grand piano, towards the opulent sitting area opposite the bed. "Hello...Anthony," I started hesitantly, as I took in the richly-appointed suite, "Thank you for...the invitation. I'm...flattered. That you want...I mean, I am..." "Enough. I can see from your eyes this isn't anything that you are used to doing, and that is what I prefer, frankly." Anthony's hand raised to my cheek, tilting my face to his, "So, let me tell the you the rules. My rules. First, this is yours," he drew out his wallet and threw a sheaf of hundred-dollar bills on the lacquered coffee table as he set down his crystal glass, "If you please me, there will be more." He pulled me close, one golden hand roaming my face, his thumb tracing my lips, as he murmured, "I intend to use this." His other hand slid across my waist, pressing me to him as his fingers slipped under the deep slit in my satin dress, his fingers cupping my thong-covered mound, "And this. I also...want to watch you give yourself pleasure. You seem comfortable enough with giving men a show, yes?" He continued, his voice purring, "You will speak only when spoken to. I like my women quiet. And you will do exactly as I say. Is this agreeable to you?" "Anthony, I...I..." my lips stammered a reply, which he promptly cut off with an impatient glance. I stopped. "Anna, bui," his eyes were dark and hooded with lust as he intoned flatly, "And... you will call me Sir. Now, take down your hair." I swallowed hard, replying softly, "Yes, Sir," as I complied, my hands shaking slightly as I pulled out the pins and shook my locks free. He stood back and surveyed me with his imperious gaze, his muscled arms crossed in front of his chest. "Good." He reached for his drink, finishing it in a gulp and set the crystal glass down, his eyes enigmatic, "On your knees." He reached down, loosening his belt and unzipping his fly with a practiced hand, revealing his cock, uncircumcised, already hard and veined, the foreskin lapping over the shiny and purplish head. "Pay me homage, biu." Obediently, I dropped to my knees, my hands reaching to his hips as I steadied myself, my face inches from his dark rod, my heart pounding in my chest. I leaned forward, my mouth opening to take his dusky head between my lips. Shutting my eyes, I felt the slick mushroomed head glide past my reddened pout, luxuriating in the spicy, metallic tang as his stiff pole probed my mouth. My mouth watered as I began to swirl and snake around his hardness, relishing the velvety texture of his foreskin against my probing tongue. His dark hands found my face, stroking my cheeks, my lips, sliding through my hair, as I continued my oral caresses, my eyes opening. I was taking his dark pole deeper into my wet, searching mouth, my hands roaming his hips, his firm ass, urging him to me. He reached to the back of my head, his grip demanding, slight breaths of pleasure escaping his lips. I gazed upwards at his golden magisterial face, his brow furrowed, his staring eyes darkly aroused by my open submission to his dusky Asian cock. His thrusting sharpened, his rigid pole slipping ever deeper into my slick, throbbing mouth. My throat opened to his powerful thrusting, my own arousal stoked by his obvious enjoyment of my oral skills. His strong hands on the back of my head knotted my hair as he ground into me, and I felt his thick, wiry pubic hair against my face as I took his cock into my throat, my involuntary gagging only strengthening his thrusts, his soft breaths turning into savage moans. "You worship well," he breathed, pulling away slightly, his thrusting slowing against my slick lips, "You arouse me greatly, biu, but I desire other pleasures. On your feet." "Take off your dress," he commanded as I rose, my eyes downcast, my lips feeling thick and hot, electric pulses flowing through me, "And your bra and panties, I would like to watch you for awhile. Lay down on the bed." I reached behind me, my long fingernails tripping me up as I tried to wiggle from the tight satin dress. His mouth twisted in a smirk as he surveyed my struggles, his eyes roguish. "Are you having troubles, biu?" "Yes, Sir," I murmured, "I'm not used...to this," I waved my red-tipped hands, signaling my embarrassment, "Please?" "Indeed," He approached me, his strong hands spinning me around, "You shouldn't be demanding favors from me, bui. Don't get used to this. I need my women to be...self sufficient. But, you are new to me, so..." His hands unzipped my dress, sliding it from my shoulders in one swift motion, his low voice whispering in my ear, "I need you to show me how self sufficient you are. Undress, and pleasure yourself for me. I want to make this memorable for you, but...I'm afraid I'm too lazy to bother with your pleasure." Sir sat down on the brocade couch, his feet swinging onto the coffee table, "You can do whatever you like, but, you will... come for me." He purred, his narrowed almond eyes taunting me, "You will not deny me this." My eyes met his laser-like gaze as I stepped from the satin dress, tossing it aside. Not wanting a repeat struggle with my bra catch, I slid the straps from my shoulders and pulled it to my waist, turning it around to undo the hooks. It dropped to the floor, and my rounded breasts, freed from their lacy cage, stood up proudly, my nipples stiffening from the cool air and my own building desire, as I raked them with my long, dangerous nails. I turned my back to Sir, slowly peeling down the tiny straps of my thong, exposing my heart-shaped ass, banded by the straps of my garter belt, my curves ripe, tantalizing. It dropped to my knees and I stepped out of it, and turning, stood erect before him, my back arching as I posed, my arm reaching behind my head, my thigh-high fishnet-clad legs crossed at the ankles, sky-high gold pumps highlighting my shapely long legs, my pulsing, shaved sex hidden from his view. I crossed to the bed, settling back on the lush damask comforter, my legs still crossed coyly, and propped myself up by the elbows, my wide green eyes locked with his dark, commanding eyes as I slowly spread my legs. His expression registered surprise and delight as he gazed at my pussy, brazenly displayed and completely bare, his tongue brushing his smiling upper lip. I reached behind me, scrabbling the pillows into a heap to lean back on, my knees lolling off the edge of the bed, my toes pointed prettily, digging my heels into the bed-frame. I wanted to look as perfect as I could - I wanted to make Sir worship me, adore me, - My smooth white body, my lush curves, my naked pussy, tingling with anticipation. I wanted to show him with my eyes, my fingers, my bald pink slit, how much I desired him - all of him, his dark almond, domineering eyes, his strong muscles, his velvety steel shaft, his imperious demeanor. The power, the money, it didn't matter anymore. I want him. I want to...submit. "Shut your eyes, biu," Sir commanded, "Tightly, and do not open them. I will watch you, and I do not care to be watched, yes?" "Yes, sir," I breathed, slight fear mixing with submission and arousal at his request, "Anything you say." I shut my eyes, my hands straying to my rounded breasts, pressing them upwards, my thumbs sliding over my stiffened, aroused nipples. I pinched them between my thumb and forefinger, slightly pulling the stiff tips away from my body, my hands cupping and swirling, my long red nails raking the soft flesh. My left hand continued to swirl and stroke my heaving mound, my breath deepening, as I slid my other hand down over my slightly rounded belly to my shivering thighs, the long nails softly tracing a gliding line from thigh to thigh, my fingertips skimming over my wet, parted sex. My heart pounded in my chest, my fingers finding my soft inner lips, the hard red nails flicking across the slick folds. I dipped a finger in my slit, the hard plastic tip unfamiliar to me, feeling a slight twinge of pain, good pain, as I penetrated myself, my libido spiking at the feel. I thrust myself, my fingers sliding into my wet, open slit, withdrawing, re-penetrating, taking care each time to drag the hard red tips along my pulsing, slick, bare pussy lips, savoring the submissively taboo sensations of pleasure and pain. My hand left my heaving chest and my fingers found my clit, stiff and sticky from my arousal, swirling and rubbing, my fingers finding that special spot that only I know. I traded hands, first one, then two left fingers thrusting my spasming pussy, my right hand, wet with my juices, circling my hard clit, finding a rhythm. My eyes still shut tightly, my breathing deepened as little sighs escaping my lips. I threw my head back, my mouth open and panting, and then, I felt an unfamiliar sensation covering my cheek, covering my face. It felt fluttery, gossamer- light and cool... like silk? What? I sat up bolt upright, my eyes snapping open to see a luxurious silken scarf floating down, its rich pattern of red and gold chains and tassels and capitol letter H's evoking...Hermes. A Hermes scarf. "Biu-san noeng, I told you to keep your eyes shut." Sir was standing over me, his muscled torso bare but for the glinting chain, his trousers undone, his pumping fist wrapped around his throbbing, dusky cock. His tilted eyes were insolent, his lips drawn into a tight line. His dark eyes flashed as he murmured, "I didn't think it was necessary, biu, but I suppose... I could have explained, although I need not. Brides in our country wear a red veil over their faces in the bridal bed, and since it was our first time, I thought it a fitting fantasy." "But, you disobeyed, and spoiled it. Apologize." "I'm sorry, Sir," I whispered, my eyes downcast, his romantically wanton fantasy deepening my arousal, "I'll try to do better." "Better, yes, and... I have... a better idea, biu-san noeng," He continued, his voice low and sultry, "If you would like, I can use this... to make sure that I can see you and you cannot see me." Sir scooped up the sumptuous scarf, his hands swiftly folding it into a long strip. "I could blindfold you. That would please me greatly, yes?" "Yes, Sir," I murmured, "I want to please you." "We have a saying where I live," he murmured as he expertly draped the silk over my tightly-shut eyes, "We only cage the most beautiful bird." His strong hands smoothed my hair off my face tenderly as he tied the silken scarf around my head, the taboo role-play sending a surge of electric lust coursing through me. "There, that's better," his low voice sighed, "Continue, my bride, give me what I want." I settled back against the pillows, spreading my legs as widely as possible, all of my other senses afire. I could hear him, hear the slight rustling of his pumping fist, smell his rich, spicy-scented cologne, almost feel him as he hovered over me as my expert fingers found my wet, pulsing sex. My right hand, gliding over the slippery, soft folds, found my erect clit, stoking rapidly as my quivering slit pulsed, begging to be filled by my fingers. I found my familiar rapid rhythm again, my circular stroking increasing its tempo, my pistoning fingers inside me slightly hooking, feeling the delicious friction of the hard plastic tips against my hot, throbbing walls. My open mouth panted, my breaths leaving me in little gasps, aware of the silence that was demanded of me as my climax began building, my hips thrusting against my hands, my fingers hard and rough against the wetness. My orgasm came ever nearer, building in waves, every fiber of my being concentrated, taut, as it started to crash over my intensely spasming pussy. As the first wave of pleasure crested, I felt rough hands jerking my slick fingers from my wet sex, the sudden void causing me to rise to another plateau of wicked arousal, my right hand still whirling on my stiff bud. Sir's hands went to either side of my widely-spread, shivering thighs, pushing them ever- wider as he penetrated me with a brutal razor-sharp thrust, his cock head roughly grinding against my cervix. His groin slapped against my inner thighs, his thrusting rapid and callous against my pussy, my rising climax almost painful, pulsing with the waves of rough pleasure flooding my entire body. Silently moaning, my orgasm reached its apogee, its all-consuming, violent sensations peaking, as Sir groaned, "Diu hai...diu...aggghhhnnn..." His own climax tore into me, his thrusting forceful, almost agonizing, as my own orgasm wore away, my wet spasms matching his own as his hot seed raced into me with cutting force. His rough hands gripped my shaking thighs, my sex ravished and open, spent and soft beneath him, as his orgasm ebbed, his thrusts diminishing in their intensity. I felt him slow, his pumping softening, his moans of ecstasy echoing in my ears like an alluring foreign melody I'd dreamed before, taboo and alien, yet intimate and familiar. I felt his thick, pulsing cock leave me, his hands disengaging from my shivering thighs. I felt his hands at my cheek, his breath on my face. "That was wonderful, Anna," He whispered to my still blind-folded face, "You honor me." Sir tenderly removed the scarf from my eyes, untying the knot expertly, the gossamer silk twist falling to my lap. "Keep them shut," he murmured, his voice deep and musical, "I want a kiss." His lips, firm and warm, reached to mine, his lower lip brushing my parted, sighing pout. His kiss was sweet, light, innocent, like a kiss from a child. "You may open your eyes now," Sir purred, "I am pleased." He was standing at the edge of the bed, his thickly muscled golden torso warm in the soft light, his trousers back in place, his countenance, relaxed, glowing, the luxuriant red scarf wrapped around his hand. "Thank you, Sir," I breathed back, "It's my pleasure to serve... you." He turned away from me, my legs shutting, suddenly aware of my naked submission. "What do I do now?" I thought wildly, heady sensations of arousal, shame and satisfaction mixing in my head, "Is it over?" Sir answered my unasked questions, his back turned from me, as he crossed the room. He picked up my clothes, folding them into a neat pile, and set them on the lacquered table next to my bag and the sheaf of bills. He opened the closet behind the sitting area, drawing out his Burberry trench coat and a Gucci shopping bag. He quickly threw the assembled pile from the table into the shopping bag, the Burberry trench on his arm. He crossed to me, my green eyes wide, a mischievous smile on his lips. He held out the trench coat to me, slyly saying, "This is what you will wear home. And nothing more. Stand up, and I will help you dress, biu. You may have the coat. I have no need for it anymore." I stood up, my back straight and arched, holding my arms out as he slid the heavy trench on my nearly-nude body. It smelled of his expensive cologne as he smoothed it over my shoulders and arms, and he wrapped it around me snugly, his hands cinching the belt around my waist. "There. Look in the pocket, Anna," he murmured, "The front one." I fished in the deep front pocket of the trench, my fingers wrapping a small hard oval-shaped object. I drew it out. It was a cell phone and charger. I looked up from the shiny phone to Sir, his tilted almond eyes dancing. "For you, from me. Keep it charged. You will receive a package from me and directions for when I plan to return to your lovely little town on business. Check the phone for texts frequently once you receive my gift. I want to able to contact you at my discretion. Is this acceptable to you, biu? It's A Slut World, After All I replied, my eyes shining, "Yes, Sir. Anything you say." "Then -- here are your things," He handed the Gucci shopping bag to me, his hands sliding along mine playfully. "And, since I promised you that if you pleased me, I would give you a token of my affection," he smiled, his tongue caressing his upper lip, "This is for you." He reached around his neck, pulling off his heavy, intricate chain, and moving behind me, placed it around my neck. It was thick, still warm from him, comforting. My fingers stroked the weighty rope circling my neck. "Thank you, Sir. I'll treasure it." Sir took my hand, seeing me to the door. He opened it, motioning me to leave, as he kissed my hand. "Goodnight, biu," He murmured, "I will see you soon." "Sir?" I whispered, my eyes locking on his as I backed from the suite, "May I ask a question?" "Yes, you may." "What does biu mean?" I whispered back. I already knew. But I wanted to hear it. From him. He answered, his dark, mysterious gaze firm and even, "Whore. It means...whore." I took the back stairs out and slunk to my car, the tall collar of the expensive coat shielding me from prying eyes. I drove home, fingering my rich chain, the sheaf of hundred-dollar bills spread out on the seat beside me. I thought of the night, of Sir, of the things that he'd awakened in me. I'd always been the feminist, the animal rights activist, the take-charge party girl who owned her sexuality, railed against the patriarchy, flaunted the conventions. But...he'd changed all that. A little, at least. "I like being a...beautiful bird." I mused, smiling to myself as I pulled into my driveway, "Especially when the cage is so... opulent." It was a cold, windy December day, the snow whipping against my windows, and I was trimming the Christmas tree, the apartment filled with the smell of baking gingerbread and the sound of Christmas carols on the stereo. I heard my doorbell chime, and opening the door, was greeted with a "Merry Christmas!" by the U.P.S guy, his hands filled with a large box. "Sign here for the insurance," he pointed to his touch-screen, "This one's worth a bundle." "Thank you!" I trilled, shutting the door. I tore the box open, lifting the lid. On top of heavy tissue, was a card, the lettering heavy, dark and precise. From Sir. "This is for you, biu. I will be visiting you on the 30th of December. I will be texting you with the details. Sir." I peeled back the heavy tissue, surprised at the items before me. It was a pair of Prada black thigh-high boots, just my size, and a...black fur coat, a real black fur coat. My fingers stroked the lush, dense fur, marveling at the feel, the forbidden decadence, the taboo. "This is so unlike me," I marveled, my libido stirring at the promise of Sir's return, "Anna, I mean I, would never... wear fur. Just like Anna would never submit to men for money." "But, "I smiled a secret smile, "biu...would. It...is a slut world, after all..." END