The Party - a short, erotic story
(Not suitable for people under 18 years, so if you are in that group, please find something else to read.)
Perhaps I should not have had that last glass of wine, which released my inhibitions and prompted me to get up and dance, or rather sway, to the music; for my legs were less than steady and I was a little past the stage when I could dance without falling over and making a fool of myself. The fact that the music was one of my favourite songs was the deciding factors and my hips began to move suggestively as I closed my eyes, ignoring the people dancing around me.
A pair of arms come around my waist from behind and a masculine body began to sway in the same pattern as me, his groin close to my bottom and I, with the abandon of drink, pressed back against him and allowed the intimacy, even though I had no idea who was holding me. I looked down and saw long, elegant, manicured fingers, and could smell the faint tang of a warm, spicy, slightly musky aftershave. The man must have been several inches taller than me, for my head rested back onto the middle of his chest. I had no inclination to look up or turn around to see who was holding me close to him. I was living entirely in the moment, shutting out the world around me, enjoying the touch of a complete stranger, without a care in the world as to possible consequences.
As the song came to an end I began to move away, but he pulled me back towards him and spoke quietly into my ear.
“Stay. Stay and dance with me. But don’t turn around. Close your eyes.”
His voice was rich and mellow, soft but firm, as though he would brook no dissent.
“You have such a delicious bottom. When I saw it swaying to the music I had to come over and dance with it.”
“So you only wanted to dance with my bottom? Not with the rest of me?”
He dropped his mouth to the side of my head and dropped a kiss on to my earlobe, which made me shiver throughout my body.
“Your bottom will do to start with, but I may want to investigate the rest of you later.”
“Can I turn around and see the man who is enjoying my bottom?”
“Certainly not. When I give instructions I need them to be followed very obediently.”
“But suppose I am not a very obedient woman?”
“Then I may have to take action to curb your disobedience. Do you want to push me into taking such steps?”
“Well perhaps I will obey…for now.”
We continued to sway while the music flowed through and around me; a blues number, with a mournful saxophone accompanying the female singer. I noticed that I was now being slowly moved towards the edge of the room. He whispered into my ear, with his rich, sexy voice.
“Keep those eyes closed. Don’t disobey me will you.”
He spoke in a strong, dominating voice, which clearly expected no dissent, but I had no intention of going anywhere without this mystery man, even though I had no idea who he was or what he looked like. I was inside his warm, strong arms, and that is where I wanted to stay. I felt wanton and wild and unafraid.
The music became more distant and I knew that we were in another room because the floor surface changed from bare floorboards to a carpeted area. I heard a door close behind us, and I assumed we were now alone.
The man kissed my neck and I shivered. There was something powerful happening and I did not want to stop it.
“Keep dancing as you were before. Keep your eyes closed. I want to watch you.”
His arms drew back from my waist and I missed them immediately. I had already become used to feeling their warmth and strength encompassing me. But I did not stop dancing. I couldn’t stop dancing even if I had wanted to. It was as though I was in a trance, rotating my hips in a slow, seductive circle. There was just this man and me, and the moment was now. There was no past and no future, only the present.
He stood apart from me for a few moments, but I was very aware of his presence in the room. I sensed his eyes staring at me from behind and I responded by swaying a little more seductively. Was I being judged and found wanting, or was he simply enjoying my performance. He bent to whisper into my ear once more.
“Lift your dress. Lift it up to your waist. But don’t stop dancing.”
His voice was gentle, but firm, and I did not even consider refusing him. I reached down the sides of my dress and pulled the hem up to my waistline, while continuing to move to the music coming from the other room.
“Very nice. I do so like black stockings.”
He stood and watched me for a minute or so, before he once again came very close to me. I felt his hot breath on my neck and a single finger run down the length of my bare arm.
“I want to touch you. I want to run my hands over your beautiful bottom.”
I wasn’t sure whether he was asking me or telling me, but I was in no position to answer if it was a request. My voice had disappeared and all I knew was that I felt a deep, longing within me, a more powerful sensation than I had ever known before. I had never wanted a man to just take me and ravish me as I did right then. I was completely under his spell.
In the absence of my agreement or otherwise, he must have assumed that my continued presence meant that I acquiesced, and I felt his warm, firm, but soft, hand run over my bottom, gently squeezing and massaging until he had covered the whole of its surface. As he touched me I drew in my breath and held it.
“It’s probably best if you continue breathing my dear. My lifesaving skills are a little rusty.”
I let out the breath I had been holding. But soon took another sharp intake of breath when he continued to talk in his rich voice.
“Have you ever been spanked?”
His question took me by surprise and I sucked in my breath again as a strange heat ran throughout my body, radiating outwards from my core, as though I was on fire. After a moment I realized that he was waiting for a reply and at last I managed a whispered response.
“We will have to rectify that my dear. You seem to me to be a woman who badly needs spanking, but perhaps not right now.”
I let out another breath, but not so much of relief but almost a sigh of disappointment. I found the idea of being spanked strangely exciting, even though it also made me very nervous. He took his hands from my bottom and placed them around my waist again, moving closer so that our bodies were both once again swaying together to the music. I was still holding my dress up to my waist and there was a slight friction as the man rubbed his groin against my bottom, with just my black, flimsy panties coming between us. The fact that he was aroused was obvious to me, as he pressed himself against me, and kissed me again on my neck, whispering a single word into my ear.
His hands slid down my bare legs as far as the top of my stockings, and then back up my inner thighs. I shivered with expectation. Would he…? He answered my question by sliding one finger under the edge of my panties and gently running it backwards and forwards, feeling the dampness that I was sure he knew he would find. But he did not attempt to push his finger inside me, much to my disappointment.
He again spoke quietly into my ear.
“You are a very naughty girl, and someone should take you in hand, you beautiful girl.”
Much to my surprise and disappointment he pulled away again and I continued swaying, waiting for further directions. I was a little nervous as we had now moved beyond the merely flirtatious encounter and I needed to decide what my response would be, should a man I have not yet seen, want to bend me over a chair and take me, perhaps even spanking me first. How could I tell whether we were alone? Suppose there were other men in the room watching the tableau unfold. I found the idea of being on display both intensely exciting but also a little frightening. Was I being foolish in allowing myself to be carried away like this?
There was only silence. I strained my ears, but could hear no movement. Was he still standing looking at me? Did he expect me to continue to sway to the music, with my dress around my waist? Was it about time I came to my senses and stopped this seduction from going any further? The music ceased and the silence continued. I decided that I would turn and confront this man and see his face. I swivelled slowly, still holding up my dress, but there was no one there. I was alone in the room, with the door slightly ajar.
I dropped my dress immediately, and moved towards the door and back into the room from which we had come. The party was beginning to wind down. It was three am, which meant that the buses and Underground would have stopped running. I would need to find a taxi.
I had no idea what my mystery man looked like, so I scanned the room to see if there was anyone present who had long, slim manicured hands, for that was the only part of him I had seen. I could see no one whose hands matched those of my mystery dancer, and I was more disappointed than relieved. I made my way to the front door of the house, down the short driveway and stepped out into the quiet, residential road and began to walk to the main road where I stood more of a chance of finding a passing cab.
It began to rain and I felt large drops hit my bare arms. I had brought neither a coat, nor an umbrella to the party. It did not seem as though the night was going to end well. My flat was a good two-mile walk and the rain was beginning to fall more heavily. I would soon be soaked.
A car pulled alongside me and I looked up in case it was a taxi, but it was a black limousine with darkened windows, and I had no idea who was inside. The back door opened and a rich, mellow voice spoke from within. My nose picked up the fragrance of a recognizable spicy, musky aftershave.
“Come, get in, I will take you home.”
I hesitated. All those warnings I had received as a child about not getting into a strange man’s car came into my mind. I peered into the dark interior, trying to see the man’s face.
“You’re perfectly safe, my dear. I am a gentleman. I never impose myself on an unwilling lady. My chauffeur will vouch for me, won’t you, Henry?”
The driver nodded.
I was getting soaked, and I was tired. The alcohol was wearing off. I climbed into the car and sank down onto a soft leather seat. The man switched on the interior light and I could see a man of around forty, with dark hair but with a touch of grey around the temples; he had an attractive face and a definite glint in his dark eyes.
He looked at me for a moment, before taking my fingers and raising them to his lips, in a very old-fashioned, but chivalrous way.
“I never impose myself where I am not wanted. But I intend to spend the time I have available to me, before we reach your home, in persuading you that I can offer you precisely what you both want and need. I do believe that you have the potential to be a very naughty girl, and I know just how to deal with naughty girls. But first we must become better acquainted. Why don’t you start by telling me your name?”
I hope you have enjoyed my short story. I would love it if you were to leave a comment below.