It turns out time flies when you’re expecting a third person to be in bed with you that evening. We both showered. I drew my stockings up my calves and thighs as sexily as I could while you watched. You picked out my outfit -- the black satin corset with the cups cut out, exposing my breasts, the leather spanking skirt, a red leather collar and matching ankle and wrist cuffs -- while I put on makeup and tart red lipstick.
“I don’t think we’ll actually tie you up unless you tell me you want to be restrained. But the cuffs are sexy accessories,” you said, handing them to me.
“We’ll see how it goes,” I replied, holding up the skirt and turning so you could do the buckles in the back. “Do you want to agree on some innocuous phrase that means, ‘please tie me up?’”
“No, I want you to outright beg for it if you want it,” you said. It made me feel so horny and submissive I very nearly begged to be tied up right there and then, but that would have made it difficult to serve drinks or whatever I might start out doing in my servant role.
I picked out your outfit: the leather g-string that makes such a tight, lovely package of your package, the same black trousers you’d worn earlier, and the black, short-sleeved, button-up shirt with the red and orange flames that licked up from the bottom hem. You put on the silver rope bracelet I’d bought you, then you brought out a little box from some hiding spot and presented it to me.
“For you, since I know you’ve been admiring them for a while.”
I opened the box to find golden, round, sun ray decorations, each with a hole in the center, artsy frameworks for my nipples. I watched as you put them on, caressed my breasts and teased my nipples with tiny bites.
“They’re lovely,” I breathed, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome, my delightful fucktoy. I’m looking forward to sharing you tonight. I love you so much and want someone else to know just how lucky I am to have you as my wife every day.”
That was so sweet and sentimental, I felt my eyes well up with tears as my face broke into a huge grin. I kissed you hard to make myself stop crying. Some people like the running mascara look but I didn’t want to start the evening looking like a raccoon.
You glanced at the clock on the bedside table, next to the toys you’d already laid out.
“He’ll be here soon. You should get the snacks ready,” you said.
“I don’t want to leave your side,” I said, suddenly nervous again.
“Go,” you said, pushing me a little, “Working on a platter of food will calm you down. I’ll put on some music.”
“Nothing that shows off our age,” I said as I slipped on my black leather heels.
“He’s our age, Naomi, he’ll probably feel more at home if I do,” you said.
I gave a little chuckle and walked down the short hall, past the living room, and into the kitchen. It had an island with a normal height counter on the kitchen side and a bar-height counter and cabinet that separated it from the living room, so I didn’t feel isolated as I got out the cheese and bread and grapes, sliced them and arranged them artfully on our white ceramic platter. Then I got out the fancy white linen napkins and considered whether or not to guess what David might like to drink when he arrived.
Bob Dylan’s distinctive voice started crooning from the speakers in the living room, older than any of us, sexy without being sleazy.
“Good choice,” I said, “I knew there was a reason I married you.”
“Besides my cock, of course,” you teased.
“Well, of course. Plus, you can cook. I’m a lucky woman.”
The doorbell ran, interrupting our banter.
“About to get lucky again, maybe,” you said as you looked at me and tilted your head toward the door. I looked back at you for a moment before I gave a little “Oh!” and rushed for the door. Of course I would have to be the one to answer it and offer to take his coat and maybe lick his shoes -- no, that last bit would be silly, but the vision made me just that much wetter than I already was.
“Hi David,” I said as I opened the door, “please come in. Let me take your coat.”
“Thank you, Naomi,” he said, but he paused to inspect me before stepping inside. I instantly felt naked and helpless, my nipples springing to attention. Whatever happened tonight, I didn’t want it to be within my control at all, I realized.
Once I shut the door behind him, I took his coat and turned to hang it in the entry closet. I felt him staring at my exposed ass in the spanking skirt and immediately blushed, hoped he liked the way it looked. I glanced up into his eyes once, saw a twinkle and a mischievous grin before I directed my gaze back to the floor and followed him from the foyer into the living room.
You walked up to him then, said hello and shook his hand before leading him to the bar.
“I made snacks for us,” I said, pointing to the platter, “and maybe you’d like something to drink? I could make you a gin and tonic, or pour you a glass of bourbon or beer.”
“A bourbon sounds great, thank you,” said David.
“One for you, too, sweetie?” I asked you.
“Yes, please,” you said.
The way we ended up standing as a little threesome in front of the bar counter, I had to kneel between the two of you to get the bottle of bourbon and the glasses. Both of you reached out and pet me. I shivered as my clit gave a little jump.
“Aren’t you having one?” David asked when I stood, his eyes on the two glasses.
“I’m not a bourbon fan,” I admitted, “and, anyway, I don’t drink alcohol anymore. My skin flushes and sometimes I feel pretty ill after just a little bit of something.”
“I’m sorry,” said David, looking actually sorry.
“Thanks, but it’s not that big of a deal anymore. I’m perfectly happy watching others enjoy themselves.”
You and David chuckled at that and I found myself blushing.
“Maybe we could just tie her up and let her watch us enjoying ourselves,” David said to you, grinning.
“And she doesn’t need alcohol to flush beautifully, look at that,” you said, running your hand from my shoulder down my arm to take my hand. The two of you looked at me and I blushed even harder.
David picked a grape from its bunch, raised it to my mouth and gently pushed it in when I parted my lips. I chewed, still acutely self-conscious, the sensation of my heated skin only highlighted by the cold, crisp flesh of the fruit.
“I think she’s going to be very fun to play with,” David said, staring at my mouth for another moment before turning to you.
“No time like the present to start,” you said, “I was thinking you and I could sit and drink our bourbon while she feeds us.”
“An excellent idea,” David replied. You led him to the couch and I picked up the platter and napkins and followed, putting them down on the coffee table. I knelt on the floor between the two of you, at your feet, holding a linen in one hand and feeding you each, in turn, with the other hand.
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