Four Stars

Please note that the following fiction is intended for ADULT ONLY entertainment. Do not read further if you are easily offended, or your local community codes do not permit such suggestive material.

 

This fiction is intended for your use only. Any further dissemination of it must first require the author’s permission.

 

Thank you.

 

Faibhar

 

 

 

 

 

FOUR STARS’

 

“You don’ mind, li’lady, we thenk you fer yer list of “daily specials” an’ all, but this bein’ a special occasion, you think we could order sumthin,” ’he guzzled some more bourbon, “off the menu”?

 

Hmm? Purrrty please?”

 

Perfect. Out-of-town hillbillies. PLUS ordering off the menu! She’d pay plenty with the kitchen, but her’s was not to say. The customer was always right and maybe, just maybe, there’d be a big tip in it for her. Dillan said to, the sandy-haired man with the toothy grin, “Of course sir. And what did you have in mind?” His partner had her hand under the table doing gawd knows what. Phillipe’s devices were making her squirm even more. Her nipples, she knew, were poking like she had pencil erasures under her shirt and their appearance sure didn’t help the situation. The man’s companion spoke for the first time At least she didn’t sound like she was from the sticks. The woman looked over the rim of her cocktail glass, smiled sweetly and murmured, “We would like to order you, my dear.”

 

“Excuse me???!” Another vibrating jolt hit, but forgotten for the moment. She glared down at the other woman. She was pretty, maybe five years older, but really! Dillan could not believe her ears. She’d had her share of passes, but this one threw her. “If I heard you correctly, I think you better speak to my manager right now!” Dillan stomped away in Phillipe’s direction.

 

 

 

 

The restaurateur wrinkled the luxurious tan of his handsome forehead. What his slave had told him, and now what this patron was saying was most disturbing. Asking him for that “tall blond over there” and saying that the girl did not just come to his table, she “CUM” at his table. Seated at their corner booth with the on-any-other-day attractive redhead between them, Phillipe said to the man, “But, this is not possible. Much as I would like to accommodate you two…

 

“Y’all see, we be jest here fer the weekend. Sort of a celebration, kind of…”

 

“That is great, but…”

 

“An’ back home, we’re what they call dem “swingers””.

 

Phillipe nodded his gelled head vigorously and said, “That is just great, but, you see, this is not that kind of place. And besides, the woman you refer to is… with me.”

 

For the first time the patron sitting next to him obviously appraised him and said, “What then would it take”, her green eyes sparkled their approval, “for both of you?”

 

Phillipe shook his head and made to leave. The other man, the one who introduced himself as “Bob”, reached into his jacket and removed some bills which he fanned out over the tablecloth. “How’s ten Benjamins sound?” He paused and produced some more. “Fifthteen?” He looked at the redhead and said, “Whattaya think darlin’?” She discreetly smiled. With a shrug he reached into his jacket once more and said, “Frenchy, you an’ dat blonde better be ahhhsum. Here’s mah final offer. Twennie big ones!”

 

Phillipe stared down at the two-thousand dollar green fan spread across the cloth, made up his mind and slowly gathered up the bills. Looking back up at the man he said, “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

 

 

 

 

“D, my office now.”

 

Her fingers left the light dimmer and she turned to see Phillipe enter through the front door of the upscale restaurant. Over his broad shoulder he carried his tux from the dry cleaners. Dillan left the dimmer, first glancing at the door behind which she knew the rest of the staff ate their communal meal. Let them make their catty comments. Hardly could they know the real truth – she was actually Phillipe’s collared mas slave and that she willingly allowed him to do almost whatever he wanted to do to her.

 

His office was grand; one befitting not just a manager’s, but the owner he also was. Phillipe tossed his freshl clothes and went passed paneled walls to open the door of a built-in, half refrigerator. “These are to be yours, D.” The floral bouquet of scarlet roses Phillipe were beautiful. Dillan clasped her hands to her chest as her heart pounded faster and tears of joy welled. “But not, of course, until the end of your shift tonight. I have two other things for you, but first prepare yourself and help me dress.”

 

Speechless, Dillan rushed to the vanity. She removed all traces of makeup. Fleetingly inspecting her own reflection in the mirror, Dillan tussled the highlighted curls that reached just down to her shoulders and ran back to where Phillipe was slipping on the white formal shirt over his bare chest.

 

“Here, D, give me your wrists. I will help you get started.” Dillan turned around and held out her wrists to be manacled. Turning back, she saw Phillipe fold and align the button holes on one of his French cuffs, snapping the cufflink open. “See? All you now have to do are the studs.” Dillan used her lips to capture stud from off of the dresser. Using her lips and teeth, she fitted the metal into the fabric. She eagerly did the same with the other.

 

“The studs might present a bit of difficulty, but I am sure that you are up to the challenge,” Phillipe said as he sipped from a Martini glass and watched as his slave use her lips to pick up another of the studs from the dresser. Her dirty blond hair accented her fair skin. His pride in her evident. It had not been that long ago since she first became his slave, impressing even his jaded instincts with her inherent kinkiness.

 

Pressing her head against his chest, she felt his body’s heat. Intent on her immediate task, she could not let animal attraction distract. Starch closed the button hole making it even harder to slip the base through, but eventually it slid in. The soft links binding her wrists would leave no marks, but she twisted her arms, nonetheless, as having them pinned behind her made her job that much harder. The stud slipped in easy at first, but then fell. It thudded on the carpet.

 

Phillipe frowned and said, “Too bad, slave. You must now be punished. Bend forward and lay the top of you on my desk. Lift your skirt.”

 

“Yes Master.” Dillan did as told, tiny beads of perspiration peppered the top of her lip. The metal desk felt cold as her top lay on it. Her fingers found the hem of her skirt and she lifted it, exposing the backs of her thighs.

 

Phillipe set down the glass and gazed at the beauty of his slave. He dialed up the volume of a classical CD. Selecting a thin cane, he swung it down across the naked thighs. His slave jerked as it struck with a pronounced “TWAK!”

 

“Now try again, D.”

 

“Yes Master.” Dillan knelt on both knees. The onyx stud was easy to spot on the oatmeal-colored carpet. She stood up and tried again. She tried to ignore the stripe burning across her legs. The tiny stud slipped in and held. She groped for the final stud.

 

Phillipe’s tuxedo shirt held together perfectly. As a final measure, she knelt once more, this time facing his opened fly. The cock she wanted to suck hard and the balls she wanted to adore were so close. But all of that would have to wait until later. Her teeth gripped the zipper tab and raised it up.

 

“Very good slave. You have done well. Now stand.”. Socks and shoes he had done before and as he looked into a mirror to tie his own tie gelled black glistened around the tanned handsome face of a thirty year-old, though he did look much younger. He saw his slave standing behind him. “Remove your thong. You’ll be free-bunning tonight with the exception, that is, for these.”

 

He turned back to face her holding two black cylindrical probes, one smaller than the other, each with a tiny antenna sticking out of one end. “These,” he said holding aloft the objects, “are receivers that vibrate on command. MY command.”

 

Dillan nodded and stared at the phallic-shaped devices and noted that the largest had a small padded lever extending out from the end opposite of the antenna. “Yes Master”. Without waiting to be told, she lay back on his desk, this time, on her back. She watched as Phillipe applied a thin coat of oil to each. He then lifted up her skirt, parted her legs and inserted both objects, slipping the one with the padded lever under her clitoral hood.

 

“You see, I have programmed the transmitter at my podium differently than the others. A square on my specially programmed screen reads “Hot”, he said and chuckled, “for your luscious ass. The other square reads “Loins” for your, uhm, sweet pussy. Throughout the night I’ll be able to manipulate you, making your ass hum, or pussy with the clit arm throb, or both at the same time!” He laughed at his ingenious design.

 

“Make absolutely sure neither of these slips out. What a predicament you will have then! And should you feel your cunt or ass enlarging and the vibrators slipping, quietly push them back in. Understand?”

 

Dillan nodded her head and said, “Yes Master.” Her face burned in shame and she could only guess how she would react once the vibrations hit. What would they think…?

 

 

 

To be continued