Part 4 - 3

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I doubled down on my resolve to be the friend to Vivian that she was to everybody else. The friend that she deserved, whether she believed it or not.

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At work the next day, Vivian stole quick glances at the group text chain she was a part of with Devyn, Nicole, Susan and some of the other young women who had formed friendships together. Some of them were pretty liberal texters of gossip during business hours. Vivian usually tried to avoid that, but she liked to read what they were saying as a bit of comedic relief to the monotony of the office.

Devyn: ive decided im running for president

Devyn: vote for me and ill pass a law requiring employers to give time off to women on our periods.

She smiled at all the responses pledging to donate money to Devyn's campaign. Really, Vivian was trying to distract herself from rereading Master Paul's response to her party outfit picture for the hundredth time. It was really short and she knew what it said by heart, but she kept reflexively flipping over to see it again.

Master: Wow, my slut finally learning how to dress herself up pretty!

Master: Im alredy looking forward to spanking you for it

She doubted he'd done it deliberately, but it made both sides of herself happy. By telling her that he'd spank her, he'd given her permission to enjoy letting her slut out. True, he would have found a reason to spank her anyway, but that was beside the point! Her penance was already arranged, so she could enjoy sinning to her inner slut's content.

That inner self loved that he'd called her "my slut," and that he'd said she was pretty. It would have made her embarrassed from anybody else, but she wanted to be her master's pretty little plaything. And he was looking forward to seeing her again! It felt good to be wanted.

It also felt good to have this little secret inside of her as she walked around in her day to day life. It was like a warm, erotic presence hiding just under the mask she showed everybody. How would her coworkers react if they found out the plain, hardworking, boring Vivian was actually a deviant slut who was going to a sex party dressed to kill? Would any of them believe it? Would anybody believe that she was still nursing a few belt marks under her clothes and her last orgasm had been with her master's cock up her ass?

In the group chat, Nicole declared herself Devyn's VP running mate and added a commitment set a legal limit on how much AC can be blasted in offices in the summer.

It was silly to read so far into Master Paul's texts. They were just twenty words that he probably spent thirty seconds thinking about. Was she really so starved for his validation? Wasn't she too old to feel like a schoolgirl with a crush?

Vivian pushed those negative thoughts aside. What did it matter? Everything had its ups and downs, and right now she felt good.

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New York City real estate defies worldwide economic trends. The global market rises and falls, but prices in the city never go anywhere but up. It's pretty fair to say that everybody who can afford to live here makes a lot of money.

However, a lot of money in NYC and a lot of money everyplace else in the world are two very different things. Me and my fellow young professions, for example, could buy a house tomorrow in most small towns. However, in the city, the cost of living nearly buried us. We were trying keep up with rent, buy formal work clothes, learn restraint while surrounded by hundreds of amazing restaurants, pay school loans, and somehow have enough left over to start a 401k. Most of the people in our age group were like Vivian. We were comfortable in our New York lifestyles, but dropping hundreds of dollars for a kinky outfit on a whim was impossible.

The Valmonts, by contrast, were rich. Really fucking rich. I'd heard jokes before, but I didn't quite get it until I saw their place. I took in their Soho loft with my wide eyes and mouth agape.

It wasn't just that it was legitimately big enough to get lost in. It wasn't just that any single piece of art probably cost more than my entire life's net worth. It was shocking because I knew Jeff and Natalie. They just regular people! Nothing about their personalities gave away that they were an extreme power couple who could retire tomorrow and spend the rest of their lives jet-setting without ever making a dent in their bank accounts.

We'd entered into what seemed to be the main living area of the loft. It was huge with a cavernously high ceiling. There were many different couch setups separated by partitions of plants and art. It created the effect of smaller intimate spaces, each with their own unique flavor, all together within one unifying open environment. The way it was lit and flowed together, it almost felt like a sculpture garden outdoors instead of a living room in a building.

"What the fuck..." I muttered as I stared around.

"Yeah, that was about my reaction the first time I came here," Malcolm chuckled watching me gape.

"We have to live in a place like this one day," I said, hoping he might pick up the hint that we should be living together.

"I never had you pegged as an interior design connoisseur."

"I'm not! I just want to be able invite our friends over and watch them shit themselves like I'm doing right now."

We weren't the first ones to arrive. There was already a group milling around a large marble island countertop by the kitchen area on the far side of the room, chatting and munching hors d'oeuvres. I would normally have just called it finger food, but this place called for classier terminology. They were all the same people I knew from munch events, but cast in a whole new light here. Everybody was dressed up, and there was a huge variety from person to person.

The dominant men, as a group, seemed to mostly have gone for formal jackets and ties. Jeff Valmont, whose tremendous height, bulk and shaved head had reminded me of The Kingpin from Daredevil when we first met, wore the most elegant tuxedo I'd ever seen in real life. Even counting costumes on TV, something about it screamed high class, and it would even have put Downton Abbey's Lord Grantham to shame. Malcolm's suit, sexy on him though it was, simply didn't have enough zeros on the price tag to keep up.

The women, on the flip side, varied wildly. Claudia, a Domme at least a decade older than me, looked like she'd just been horse back riding. She wore black leather boots, tan pants, a white frilly top and held a mean looking crop. On the other extreme, Autumn wore five-inch heels, fish net stockings, and a tiny thong. That's all. Her bare breasts stood proudly out from her body, drawing covert glances from some and bold stares from others.

She glowed in the spotlight. Her broad smile was visible across the huge room, and she leaned happily into Michael's arm draped around her waist.

I thought about my own "outfit" Malcolm had chosen for me. 'Pretty soon I won't be wearing too much more than her.'

"Vivian was right," Malcolm commented following my gaze. "She was after Michael the whole time." That had been a topic of our gossip, Vivian and Nicole going back and forth about which of the hunter Doms Autumn wanted to be caught by.

"Yeah. She really wasn't kidding about being an exhibitionist either."

Malcolm chuckled again at that. "She's just an appetizer. Give it an hour or so, then you'll see."

"You keep saying things like that! You realize that the more you hype this up, the more it needs to perform, right?"

Jeff and Natalie had made their way over to greet us. Something about them seemed different beyond just their clothes - Jeff seemed to be leading Natalie, arm in arm, in a way that didn't usually happen.

"Well I certainly hope our little party lives up to what Malcolm has promised you. In fairness, I don't think we've ever had a newcomer go home bored," Jeff said.

"Welcome to our home," Natalie added warmly. "We're very happy to have both of you."

Jeff shook both our hands heartily while Natalie held back, her face downcast. Something else about her seemed weird, but it took me a few seconds before I realized what it was. Natalie's irises were completely black! It was like she was possessed by a demon or something - her eyes were pure white surrounding pits of solid darkness.

"Likewise. Thanks a lot for having us."

"Of course! If you guys would like to get into some more appropriate—"

"—or less appropriate -" Natalie suggested with a smile.

"—you can use one of the guest rooms," he gestured down a hallway away from the cavernous open loft area.

"What's up with her eyes?" I asked when we were out of earshot.

"She's wearing special contact lenses that block out all light. They're basically a perfect blindfold that feels natural and doesn't need any annoying straps."

"Holy shit! No wonder she was letting Jeff lead her around. They look really freaky, I like them." I thought back to the blindfold train ride I'd taken with Malcolm leading me - how helpless and submissive and supported by him it had made me feel. That had been with a blindfold made to look like sunglasses. I could have taken it off if I'd wanted. Those contacts though... Natalie was putting a whole other level of trust in her Dom to guide her. "I want some of those for us!" I said excitedly.

"Of course you do," Malcolm laughed. "We'll have to ask where they got them. For now, though, I have another special something for you."

Passing the opposite end of the space from the kitchen, we found a raised dais or stage of sorts surrounded by rows of couches, love seats, oversized bean bags and pillows on the floor. I recognized it immediately from the video Nicole had shown me months ago of Malcolm making his ex-girlfriend Chloe cum using trance. That, as much as Autumn's nudity and Natalie's sensory deprivation, hammered home that tonight was going to be very different than anything I'd ever experienced before.

The bedrooms, at least, seemed more down to earth. I barely got to glance around the one we walked into before I felt myself pushed back against the wall, Malcolm's face suddenly an inch away from mine.

"Oh!" I gasped, surprised, before his tongue split my lips apart and I was consumed with being kissed.

He easily surrounded me, pressing his body into me and wrapping his arms around me while simultaneously conquering my mouth with his tongue. I melted into him, all the period angst I'd felt that week over our separation fading away to nothing. It felt so good. So damn good to be together, so fulfilling to feel how much he wanted me, so hot to press my breasts into his firm chest and grind my pussy into his rapidly hardening crotch.

He withdrew slowly, holding his body pressed to me, only going far enough to speak. "I missed you, my love." His eyes blazed inches from mine, mirroring the rush of emotion that swept through me hearing him call me that. I loved both parts of it - being his and being in love.

"Say it again, Sir" I purred, cocking my head to one side in a way that I hoped he'd see as an opening to take hold of my hair the way he liked.

Instead of going for that customary spot, he gently pressed my chin up and wrapped his fingers around my neck. He didn't squeeze, it felt somewhere between a firm caress and a soft grip. Not enough to mess with my breathing, but more than enough to make me feel possessed.

"My love." It felt so natural to him, the way he put me under his dominance. He did it with an easy confidence that made it feel natural to submit to him. I accepted his grip and surrendered to it.

"I missed you too, Lover. Sir. Sir that I love. Fuck, that doesn't flow at all. Sir Love? Is that better?"

"That makes me sound like a knight," Malcolm laughed.

"I'll think of something! You didn't give me very much time to think of anything romantic."

"Who said I wanted to be romanced?" He asked, with a carnal lusty gleam in his eye. He certainly must have felt my pulse beat faster in my neck. My mouth watered, eyes flicking down to his pants crotch, hoping he meant what I thought he meant. "But we'll have plenty of time for that later. We're supposed to be getting you changed."

"Oh, right," I said, disappointed.

I expected him to move, but he didn't. He paused and said reflectively: "Tonight, among this crowd in this setting, being 'mine' means more."

"It does, Sir?"

"Yes. It feels different when it's out in the open among people who all understand what it means." He smiled warmly. "I'm proud to have you with me tonight and I've been looking forward to showing you off." I absolutely glowed! After years of wishing he'd see me as more than just his platonic friend, him wanting to parade me on his arm at a sex party felt fantastic.

"That means so much to me."

He shifted, taking his hand off my neck and replaced it with something. It felt like a wide, weighty necklace that clung to my skin as he lifted my hair to fasten it in the back. "You'll find that nearly all dominants love showing off our submissives to each other. On top of that, pretty much everybody in the scene gets very into symbolism." We finally separated and I was able to step away from the wall. Malcolm closed the door - we must have been making out and being lovey dovey with it open the whole time! - to reveal a full-length mirror on the inner side.

"Do you like it?"

I stared at my reflection. Malcolm hadn't put a necklace on me. It was a collar! A black leather collar with beautiful, finely stitched rose petals and thorny stems all around it, matching our cuffs perfectly. It must have been part of the same set. Just like the cuffs, it felt wonderful on my skin. Firm and warm, just like Malcolm's hand had been. I was still pretty inexperienced in practical, real life BDSM, but I'd read more than enough to know how significant a submissive being given her Dom's collar is. I was marked. Taken. Unavailable to anybody else. Owned. Owned by my dominant. Owned by Malcolm.

I flung my arms around him. "Of course I love it! Did it come with the cuffs? You've been holding out on me!"

"I've actually never liked collars very much myself. Something about them seems unnecessarily demeaning to me. You're my girlfriend, not my dog."

That reminded me of what he'd told me the first night we'd had sex. 'There's nothing special to him about dominating somebody weak. He gets his kicks feeling elevated by somebody with her own confidence and strength. That must mean that degrading me would be like degrading himself as my owner.' I traced the patterns with my fingers, delighting in the substantive feel of it and the way it looked against my skin.

"You think too much into these things sometimes, Sir. I'm pretty sure you've never been deliberately disrespectful to anybody in your life. I'd never wear this and think you saw me as your dog." Even as I chided him for it, I had to admit to myself that that considerate mindfulness of his was part of what had always drawn me to him. Especially back when I was a prickly teenager. "Anyway, you're going to have to get used to it now, Sir. It's beautiful, I love it and I'm never taking it off."

He just smiled his trademark disarmingly friendly smile. "You know, with that determined look, I might just believe that."

The rest of my evening's costume was no less flashy for being less symbolically important. Quickly, mindful of how much time we'd already burned away from the party, I stripped down.

Apparently, some things never go out of style in BDSM fashion for subs. Lingerie is one of them. It's easy, sexy, and comparatively inexpensive. Plus, it makes the wearer feel like they're on display for everybody to enjoy, which creates a nicely submissive headspace.

Looking at myself in the mirror again, I felt more nervous than anything else. 'It's fine! Autumn already has her fucking tits out, nobody will look twice at me!' I tried to psych myself up. Still, I'd never done anything like walking out into a group of people in nothing but my underwear before!

Malcolm wrapped his arms around me from behind, running his hands over my shoulders and chest. "You look fantastic," he whispered in my ear. Going lower to my abs, he fingered the outlines of my muscles and smiled approvingly at me in the mirror. Pleasant little tingles spread over my skin wherever he touched, and I longed for more. "You'll have everybody out there jealous. They'll wish they were as fit as you, wish they could sleep with you, and wish you'd give them that same look you're giving me right now."

I blinked quickly. I'd been watching his hands as they made their way slowly down my stomach. "What look?"

"The look that says you wish I'd toss you on that bed and fuck you."

"That's your fault and you know it, Sir! If you'd let me cum more than once a week, I wouldn't be such a horny mess for you all the time."

Malcolm chuckled and teased lower, right along the waist band of my panties, intensifying the tingles and probably making my expression even more desperate. "You say 'my fault' as though it's a bad thing. I quite enjoy having you like this."

I groaned in response. My hips bucked slightly, half trying to persuade him to slip into my panties and half to feel his hard cock against my ass. 'I'm not the only one who's always horny in this relationship.' I thought as I felt it. 'But he's always in perfect control of himself!' That easy, natural confidence of his made it so easy to follow his lead and submit to him.

"Tell me what you want," he whispered in my ear. That knowing smile - he knew damn well what I wanted! He just liked making me say it.

"I want your hand on my clit and your fingers deep inside me, Sir." I spread my legs a little wider and met his eyes in the mirror imploringly.

"Ask and you shall receive."

With a wet schlicking sound, raw pleasure swept over me. He said something, probably about me already being wet enough to draw him right in, that went in one ear and out the other without finding my brain in-between. Malcolm has this thing he does where he hooks his thumb to press my clit while simultaneously filling me with two fingers. There's nothing subtle about it, it's hard and rough and oh so incredibly stimulating! I thrust hard to meet him, feeling a rewarding surg of fire sweep through me.

It was like being hit from multiple sides at once. His thumb sent shockwaves through my clit, which seemed to get magnified by his firmly fucking fingers inside me, bouncing the pleasure back and forth between them. Bigger and harder, hotter and wetter, my cunt spasmed and my whole body shook with it. He played with my body, making me shudder and moan like his dancing puppet, completely enslaved to the pleasure he gave me.

But then, just as I was really starting to heat up, the stimulation stopped. Half of me knew to expect it. Malcolm wouldn't just let me cum this easily. The other half of me, though, hadn't cum in a fucking week and wanted to keep right on going! I found myself dumbly pressing my pussy forward as though looking for where his hand had gone.

"You see, keeping you denied is a good thing!" Malcolm said cheerfully. "If I let you have all the orgasms you wanted, a little rubbing like that wouldn't make you feel nearly so good."

"Easy for you to say, Sir," I half moaned and half groaned. "You're not the one who is about to go to a party with her nipples poking holes in her bra and a pool in her

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