His for a Night

I saw her the first time in Bloomingdales, in the shoe department. I was looking for a new set of pumps to go with my fushia suit and she and I were the only one's there besides the clerk, who was flitting back and forth between us. I hardly noticed her until I felt her next me, her hand lightly touching my arm. "That one", she said, pointing to the one in my right hand. "The color is perfect with your suit."

That's all she said and she walked back to the counters without saying a word. She was right though, I thought as I looked at the two shoes in my hands. How could I have had any doubt.. I looked up at her again as she tried on a pair of very high heels. There was something different about the way she looked at herself in the mirrors but I couldn't place it until the clerk broke in.

"Odd one, her." Said the clerk.

"What?" I asked.

"Most women look at their feet when they are shopping for shoes. Watch her."

I did. The woman had on a spring pink set of spiky sandals and was looking at herself. But not in the shoe mirror. She had walked across the aisle to the dress section and stood at the three way mirror by the dressing room, looking at how the shoes made her legs and backside look. Evidently she liked what she saw, because she smiled faintly and nodded as she looked at herself. That was it. Who looked at shoes that way? I thought.

But my next thought was that maybe we should look at shoes that way. We all knew that heels shifted our bodies, gave contour to our calves and thighs, and changed our whole posture and look. Yet we looked at our feet when we shopped. I'll remember that the next time I shop, I thought to myself, watching her leave with her new purchase.

I saw her again about 20 minutes later, in Victoria's Secret. I looked at her more closely this time. Mid thirties maybe? Great skin. Not a skinny girl, but curvey like me, the curves enhanced by the flirty 1950's style polka dot dress she was wearing. Blond. Dare I say it? Marilyn Monroe blond, but with more curl. The dress was cut a bit lower than I would have dared in public, showing her cleavage. Not trashy, I thought, but definitely sexy.

She smiled a lot. Even as she absently looked over the racks, she wore a small smile that went all the way to her blue eyes. This is a woman who is truly happy. I thought. I wondered why.

Evidently they knew her there, because before long the manager walked across the store and they hugged, the woman's smile growing wider as the manager asked her what she was looking for.

"Oh I need something to be enslaved in." said the woman. I let out a little gasp, and she must have heard me because she looked up and flashed me a happy smile. She winked at me before she turned back to the manager and went on. "Black of course. It's the only color for enslavement. But something with a little color. Not one of your normal gowns, but something a little more.... Exotic?"

"We have some new corsets" the manager said, leading her to the back of the store. I watched from the corner of my eye as they held up several, and watched her choose a black corset with pink ribbons and lace that matched her pink heels from Bloomingdales. As they went searching for stockings I looked over the long gowns, wanting to buy something to surprise my husband with tonight.

A moment later, I felt her hand on my arm again, and almost jumped. "No hon, go for the exotic. There's a wonderful black corset with cornflower blue trim back there. It would capture the lighter flecks in your eyes perfectly. " and she was off again. I watched her walk towards the door, admiring the swing in her step, then turned and went over to the corset display at the back of the store. I had never thought of a corset before, but I knew my husband would love it. I was normally a little more conservative.

Se was sitting on a bench right in front of the store when I walked out with my pink and white bag, a sly smile on her face. "So did you get the corset, hon?" she asked.

I nodded, blushing slightly, and very aware of it..

"Good!" she said. "Now, come have lunch with me before you go back to work or home or whatever you do. I have a feeling we'd enjoy each other." And without another word she took my arm and we walked, arm in arm, like old girlfriends, to Ragazzi's in the mall.

It was early for lunch, so the waiter was right on us. She ordered a "Tall White Russian" and looked to me. I never drank this early, but I ordered a vodka tonic, with a twist.

"I'm Deborah." She said. "Not Deb, Not Debbie. Deborah."

"Sharon" I said. Why was my voice hoarse, I wondered.

"I could tell my little announcement of what I was looking for at Victoria's got your attention." She said. There was a twinkle in her eyes as she spoke.

Gaining my confidence back, I answered. "It's not the normal thing people ask for. Most women would ask for a gown or a teddy or a corset " I said, not something to be enslaved in. But I'm beginning to think maybe you do a lot of things a little differently."

"You noticed!" she was almost gleeful at my answer. "Most people never notice anything going on around you. Sometimes I do things a little different just to see if anyone is paying attention. And you were! I'm so glad!"

I had to smile. I could not remember the last time I met someone who was joyful.

"But I meant it." She said. "I am going to be my husband's love slave for a weekend and he sent me out to buy something appropriate for the occaision." For the first time I noticed the bags all around her. There were the two I had seen her buy, a second, larger bag from Bloomindales, one from Cache, and another from Bebe.

She shrugged as she watched my eyes go over her bags. "I want to be a very well dressed slave." She said. "Only the best for him." She laughed and I laughed with her. "Now," she said, "tell me all about yourself."

We sat and talked for hours. I learned about her, married at 19 (she was over 40 now, she said, but would not tell me how much over 40. I was incredulous.), two kids. A stay at home mom. Her husband was some kind of free lance consultant and traveled a lot, often taking her with him, even overseas. She had been to London, Munich and is in the last year. " I love getting away with him," she said. "all the sex! We have to make up for when the kids are all around after all!".

I told her about my life. I did not feel quite like this exotic creature, but she seemed so interested that I spoke of enthusiasm of my new marriage, my husband, my work at the school and more.

By two, the conversation began whine down. There were six glasses in front of us, all empty. I could feel the effects of the drinks, and maybe emboldened by them, I asked her. "You aren't really going be a sex slave, are you?"

"Oh but I am!" she said. My husband had a real one for a couple of years. It's not my thing, really, but he loved it, so a couple of times a year, I become his slave to do with whatever he wants. Trust me, some of those have been weekends to remember!"

I felt my pulse speed up. I had, I knew, a slightly submissive streak in me, and while my husband and I had played a few bondage games here and there, I had a fantasy of being completely under someone's control, not forever, but just for a night. I was not easy to shock – my husband and I had a pretty adventurous sex life, that had even included others in our bed, but we had never taken the bondage but so far.

She must have seen that in my eyes somehow. I had a feeling she saw more than most people. "Ah.... You'd like it too. I can tell."

I blushed. But I nodded. Trying to change the direction of conversation, I asked her "When is your slave weekend?"

"It's already started." She answered. "That's what we are here for. He sent me shopping and I am to be ready for him when he gets back in at 6:30. Want to see what I am wearing to dinner tonight?"

I did of course, and out of the Cache bag, she pulled a rich turquoise dress, tea length. "It has a princess cut" she said, which is really flattering to me. I looked at the slit, held together with tiny pearl buttons, and the deep, wide neckline. The color was perfect for her pale skin, it brought out the color in her face.

"It looks wonderful." I said. "Did you find everything you were shopping for?" I asked.

"Almost." She said, something like a sigh in her voice. "I need to find another woman to be his second slave and I have never picked up anyone in my life. Would you be interested?"

At first I thought she was joking, but looking across the table at her, I realized she wasn't. I felt my pulse race. She smiled.

"I thought you might."

"I don't dare." I said."My husband...."

"Sorry hon. Mr was very specific. Only a woman. No husbands. He wants two slaves for tomorrow night. I'm not sure what, if anything he'll do to me if I don't find one.I might have to break down and find a call girl or something." She wasn't smiling now.

I could feel the dampness between my legs. She was right, the thought excited me. And then, as if she knew, she patted my arm. "You go home and talk it over with your husband. If the two of you would even consider it, come join us for dinner tonight. We're at the Carleton, in the Regency Room. We've got reservations for four at 7:30. Come join us. Mr can be very persuasive."

With that, she got up, paid the bill in cash, and walked away. She turned and looked at me as she got to the door, flashed me another smile, waved and she was gone.

I didn't know what to make of her, or the invitation. When I got home my husband was home early. I told him about Deborah and the whole idea got us so excited that we ended up making love in the living room, before he ever saw what I had in my shopping bags. I sighed in contentment as we lounged naked on the thick carpet. "At least..." I said. "At least the whole thing led to this."

"I think you should take them up on it...." My husband said.

I sat bolt upright as he finished ".at least for dinner tonight."

"I can't believe what I am hearing!" I said.

"Oh look Sharon, you've always had a fantasy about being someone's sex slave. I'm not saying to do that, but just being with them for a night will fuel that fantasy even more. Think of the sex we would have when we come home tonight." His grin was dangerously close to a leer.

"And what if I decide to take them up on it" I said, a little defiance in my voice.

"I doubt that." He said. "What do you say? Dinner at 7:30? At the Recency Room?

And that is how we found ourselves at the Ritz Carleton a few minutes before 7:30. I wore a black cocktail dress and my husband wore his charcoal suit, my favorite. We held hands as we walked into the restaurant foyer on the 23rd floor

"May I help you?" the Matre 'D called out from his station as we entered.

"We're meeting someone." I said hopefully.

He looked at me carefully. "Ah!" he said, "You must be the Thomas' friends. Mrs Thomas described you perfectly! Come with me."

They had the corner table, with views of the city all around them. And she smiled wide as she took my hands, and kissed me on both cheeks, and then reached to embrace my husband. Come, meet my husband. "Franklin, this is Sharon...." I could feel his eyes slide down my body. ".... And this is her husband James, who I am sure will be as delightful as his wife."

Dinner was relaxed. Franklin was as good a conversationalist as she was, and we talked about travel, books, wines, shopping, vacations, everything except the topic that had brought us here. Until dessert.

As they brought in our sweets, it was Sharon who brought up the subject. "Have you two decided?" she asked. "Is sweet Sharon to be ours for tomorrow night?"

"You're not serious." James asked.

"Oh but I am." Said Franklin, in a calm, firm voice. And over dinner he told us about his two years with R---, the woman who became his own sex slave, who did everything and anything he ever could imagine, who could not and would not deny me anything, or anything I asked of her. "It is headier than you can imagine. Addictive, like cocaine." Something in his voice made me believe every word. I could tell James did too.

"This weekend." he went on, "Deborah is my slave. We do this twice a year. Each time I push her a little further, to do things a bit sexier and kinkier. This year, I told her to find me a second slave girl for the second night. Tomorrow night."

I noticed he didn't say he asked her, but that he told her. I shivered. Excitement? Fear? I was not sure I could tell the difference.

He was still talking. "Deborah thinks your Sharon would make the perfect slave. I like her looks. She's bright. Fun. And looking at her just now, I think she wants to do this."

I felt all three of them peer at me. Part of me wanted James to say "No". But part of me wanted to do it. I think James saw the second part. "How could I trust you with her?" he stammered. I could not believe what I was hearing, but I felt a familiar dampness between my legs. I clamped them closer together and shivered again at the sensation.

"I don't hurt my slaves. I love them, and expect them to love me just as I tell them to do." Franklin said. "R--- adored me. And Deborah, who is as strong and independent woman, would never let me do this with her a couple times a year, if there was any pain or humiliation involved. But I DO expect total obedience for the time she is with me.Deboraah gives me that, and I would expect it of Sharon."

I found I was holding my breath, and forced myself to begin breathing again.

"Can I be there?" James asked. My own husband was actually barganing for me. The dampness was wetter now. I could feel a drop slide down my thigh to the seat below. How could I admit that I wanted this? But I did. I did.

"No." Franklin's voice was firm. "But I have a webcam. You can watch. In fact, you can watch Deborah and I tonight if you like, then decide. If the answer is yes, then she should meet us in the lobby here at 6 tomorrow. I will send her home in a taxi the next day, just after lunch."

Franklin turned to me. "Sharon." He said. "Do you want to do this? Deborah thinks you do."

I nodded. Speachless.

"I think you are fakes." Jame's voice cut into the silence. "I don't think you'd do it. I don't think Deborah is your slave for this night, or any other night. She's way too bright and independent for that kind of thing."

"What would convice you, James?" There was a sparkle in Franklin's eye just now. I looked at Deborah, and I saw her chest moving up and down rapidly. They had played this game before, I thought. And she knows what's coming.

James paused. He waved Franklin near him and whispered in the man's ear.

Franklin smiled. First he called the Matre 'D over and asked him something, handing him some bills at the same time. The old gentleman nodded and walked to the main doorway, opening the double doors that led to the foyer and the elevators. He waited for an elevator and then went in and pushed a button. The doors stayed open. And the Matre 'D stood aside, like a guard.

"Deborah. James would like three things to prove to him that you will do whatever I ask. First, he would like your panties. Remove them and give them to him please."

She smiled and looked James right in the eye as she lifted her dress skirt and tugged. In a moment, she had a pair of royal blue lace panties in her hand, and handed them to my husband. None of us said a thing.

Then... "Now, it seems James would like a kiss. Make it one to remember."

She did, rising from her chair and bending over to him, she took his head tenderly in her hands, and kissed, quickly going from a demure little peck to a passionate, deep kiss. I felt the jealousy rise in me, and then as if sensing it, she broke it off, and sat down again. I looked around the room. Only one or two of the people in the restaurant seemed to be noticing us. Good, I thought. We'll get out of this with only a little embarassment.

But it was not to be.

"Very Nice, Deborah." Franklin said, clearly enjoying himself. "It seems smaller proofs were not enough for James. I'm afraid you will have to remove your dress now. I have the elevator reserved so you can leave, but... off with it.

For the first time, I sensed the slightest hesitancy, then she stood up and unclasped the hook on the back of her dress, and unzipped it. With a sexy wiggle, the dress fell to the floor by the table and she stepped out of it.

You suddenly could have heard a pin drop in the restaurant. She looked at me and blew me a kiss, and walked out, wearing nothing but the royal blue slip she had worn under the dress. James, who was still holding the matching panties, dropped them in his lap as every eye in the room watched her walk to the elevator, her hips swishing with every step, then turn, wave at us all, pressed a button on the wall, and she was gone.

James was quiet as he said. "I guess you aren't fake. My God!"

Franklin's voice was kind. "No, James. Most of the time, I'd never ask her to do something like this, and she would never do it if I did ask. But on these weekends, twice a year, she's my creature. You asked. I made her do it. I'm glad you didn't ask more, because she's a lady and I hate to embarrass her. But now at least, you know. "

He turned and looked at me. "I'd love to have you tomorrow night. You know the rules. If you want to come, Meet us in the hotel lobby at 6." Then to James, he handed a business card. "You can watch us at this web address. You two decide. The bill's covered, so you go have a nice night." And then he too left. We left just minutes after.

Heaven help us, but we did watch. Their web cam was good quality and so was the sound. He was on the couch at one end of what looked to be a suite. I watched as she came out of what was probably the bedroom. She wore a pink and black striped corset, black stockings and heels. He stood to greet her and they kissed, slowly and tenderly. His hands reached to her neck, and I watched as he put a black collar on her, and snapped it hard. It looked like leather, with some bit of metal on the front.

I soon realized what the metal was, and he clicked on a metal leash., just a few feet long, with a leather handle at one end, that he held onto with one hand. We watched as they called someone, and then a few minutes as the very embarrased waiter rolled in a table with champagne and a small bowl of strawberries. She tipped the waiter and came back and served the champagne. They sat together and kissed, slowly, then hotter and hotter.

I could hardly believe what I was watching. James was next to me at the computer, and looking down, I could see how excited he was. I reached for his crotch and rubbed the swollem cock. He unzipped his slacks and I pulled his cock out, rubbing it lightly as we watched this couple.

We watched as Franklin pulled her down to her knees on the floor in front of him, as she unzipped him and began to suck his cock. It had been three years since I had seen another man's cock and the sight of her, pulled close to him by the chain, sucking him brought a soft moan from my lips. I don't think James noticed, so transfixed was he. But I noticed. It was not so huge, but perfectly shaped, straight and hard. And it was shaved smooth, as were his balls, which I saw her take in her mouth again and again. He was pumping his hips and he let the chain looser, saying something to her. She stood up, and turned around, the handle of the chain still in his hands, as she lowered herself on his lap.

Franklin pulled the chain taut again as he began to grind into her, one hand holding the leash handle, the other fondling her breasts from behind. I watched her reach down and suddenly realized what was happening. He was taking her in the ass, because her fingers were fast working on her pussy. The look on her face was amazing as I heard her go from whimper to moan to screaming as she exploded into orgasm. Had he come? I had no idea, because I could not see his face.