I’m not even nervous today, it matters not how crazy shit gets, or how many guests I have to entertain with my pussy, or even how brutal things can get in the name of love. Today I will be loved by him, and it won’t be in secret, and it will be fucking wonderful.
I’m ready when Vincent comes for me. He looks divine in black, like a dark God, tailored in luxury mohair with a dark glint in his eyes. He stares at me, stares at my nakedness, and I spread my legs for him so that he can appreciate my cleanly shaven slit. “My beautiful bird,” he says. “You take my breath.” His words make my pussy flutter. “Come.” He offers a hand. “Our guests have arrived.”
I press myself into his side, my arms around his waist. “I am so happy.” I smile. “It means so much. You indulge me, I know, but it means everything to me, Master.”
His expression darkens, stern, but I don’t let that ruin the moment. “Remember, pretty bird, there is always a test, always a price. We must work for what we crave above all other things, we must earn our pleasure in order that we experience it to its fullest. It is through hardship that the soul is set free. You know this, of course, don’t you?”
I nod. I do know this, he repeats it every day, repeats it in his words, in his writing. It’s everywhere in this place. It’s him.
“That’s my beautiful girl. You are my northern star, Magpie, my greatest treasure amongst all things.” He kisses my cheek and opens the doors. Cynthia and Richard are already there, and Cynthia is already tipsy on Prosecco. I hate her when she’s been drinking. She is the cruellest submissive I’ve ever known. She’s dressed in jewels, and stockings, her hair coiled up with peacock feathers.
“Oh look, Richard, doesn’t Vincent’s little pet look sweet today?”
Vincent doesn’t say a word in defence, but it doesn’t matter. She’ll see. I hold my smile.
Richard nods and his mouth is already watering. His bottom lip is glistening with spit I’ll have to lick up later. He slobbers when he fucks, and he likes it when it hurts enough that I squeal. He spits in my face and calls me a filthy cunt, and he always tries to fit his podgy fist in my asshole. Sometimes I fail to break enough to like it. Sometimes I can’t get enough. My pussy tightens at the thought, but tightens more at the realisation that it won’t be today. Today I will be Vincent’s only.
Vincent gives me Prosecco and I drink it down. I sit with him without being invited, and I curl my fingers around his and smile at Cynthia’s jealous glare. She wants Vincent for her own. I’d love to see how good she’d be at sharing in the way I have to.
Vincent presses a palm to my belly, runs it down between my legs, and I spread for him. He plays with my clit absentmindedly as he regales them with conversation, and it feels like Heaven.
“My pretty bird has a request,” he reveals. “She wishes me to show you how much she is loved by me. She wishes that tonight I am hers and she is mine, and we share our delicious love with your appreciative eyes.”
Cynthia’s eyes are more piggy than appreciative, but her smile is broad.
Vincent strokes my neck as he continues. “I explained to my magpie that devotion has two faces, and to earn the indulgence of her request she must first demonstrate how truly worthy she is, how dedicated. That’s right, isn’t it, my sweet?”
“Yes, Vincent, Master. That’s right.” I’m smiling so widely I can’t even contain myself. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” he laughs. “First you must earn your reward.”
My stomach drops, on instinct. He rises from his seat and pulls away from me. “On the floor. I want you flat on your belly with your arms behind your back.”
I get into position without hesitation, and he drags me by my feet into the middle of the room. My tits graze against the cold tiles, and it hurts. A good hurt. He reaches for shackles and I gasp as he hogties me. My ankles are pulled tight to my wrists, and my back arches uncomfortably. I can hardly move, useless and immobile with my cheek to the floor. He pulls my knees apart and nudges my pussy with the toe of his shoe. He wriggles it until I groan. I hope he isn’t going to kick me there, but already my thighs are opening wide for him, just in case.
He moves away and resumes his seat, patting my empty space in order that Cynthia joins him. She smirks and places a hand on his thigh. I have to strain my neck to look at them, and it hurts my back, my shoulders, too. He hands Cynthia a stopwatch. “Would you be so kind?” he asks. Of course she would. She’d love to. “Two minutes,” he says. “You can be the judge. My beautiful bird has two minutes to crawl to my feet. If she makes it, I’ll love her all night long.”
“And if she doesn’t?” Cynthia asks with a sly smile.
“And if she doesn’t…” Vincent’s hands are already at his belt. He frees his hard cock and my breath catches. Cynthia’s hands are greedy, already wrapped around him. He pulls them away and kisses her knuckles. “If she doesn’t, then she will indulge us by watching me fuck your pretty cunt until you scream for more,” he laughs. “And she’ll be grateful, won’t you, Magpie?”
No. I won’t be grateful. I can already feel the tears. “Yes, Vincent, Master. I’ll be grateful.”
“Don’t look so sad, pretty bird. I have every faith in you.” He smiles. “And even if you don’t win, there is always a commiseration prize. I’m sure Richard will offer you his fist as a reward for your efforts.”
“Or me,” Cynthia hisses. “I’ll reward her.”
Please fucking no. My eyes are screwed shut, but my heart is pounding. I can do this.
“Go,” Cynthia shrieks. “Wiggle wiggle wiggle like a worm.”
She’s laughing as I start, my body a squirming useless mess of exertion, going nowhere fast as I grunt and writhe along the tiles. My shackles bite my skin with the effort, and my chin smacks the floor as I flail, but I don’t care. All that matters is reaching Vincent’s feet.
He’s laughing too, now, and so is Richard. I make slow progress, agonisingly slow, and it hurts. Not just the pain of my body, but the humiliation. It burns and it stings, making tears flow. I lurch forward in crazy jerks and close some distance. There’s a faint chance I may make it, and I try harder, grunting with determination as my breasts slam against the floor. I’m nearly there, my nose just a foot away from Vincent’s toes. Just a couple more thrusts.
“Good girl!” Vincent laughs. “That’s my pretty bird. You’re almost there.”
But no. Cynthia’s face says it all. “Time up,” she snaps. “You lose.” She’s lying, I know it. She tosses the stopwatch aside and smiles at Vincent. “Such a shame,” she hisses, and her hands are already on his cock.