Total Woman Vignettes 03A

She gripped his biceps for leverage as her hips moved in counter sync to his. It was her turn and she basked in a string of multi-gasms while her man continued to stoke her passions. He finally grimaced and pressed deep. She felt him pulse more of his warm essence inside her. They swooned together.

Awaking late in the afternoon from their soggy reverie, they untangled arms and legs and wobbled up and out from their play-space. Much of his previous cosmetology needed to be redone; she was allowed to be more cooperative this time, urgently assisting her stylist to get her appearance ready for the looming soiree.

During the reconditioning, her mind whirled, unable to rationalize the forgone afternoon's latter activities. Had her stylist been paid a professional fee but faltered his self-control? Or was he just working for the cunning side hustle perks? She found no definite conclusions.

With her ornate physique restored, she stood docile as he produced his selection of her evening wear. It was a filmy toga style robe; the one-shoulder design leaving her left tit exposed. The fabric swept low across her hip, making it apparent that she was without panties.

He walked her to the couch and sat her there while he got himself ready. She watched him shower, primp and don his tuxedo. He retrieved her from her couch perch and stood her at the trifold mirror platform.

She looked herself over in the multi-faceted views. Her filmy toga drape hid very little of her youthful healthy physique. She beamed inwardly at her natural beauty, magnificently highlighted by the cosmetics and flirty outfit. The stylist handed her an envelope. She read its one page contents.

'Protocols for the Senior Executive Soiree'

A. You look absolutely stunning, more so than ever before. We know that fact to be true, even yet unseen by our guests. Post-soiree responses from previous participants, of both genders, validate our confidence in that statement.

B. All artists, such as your stylist, have an obsession and do their finest work when engaged therein. We challenged him to create his utmost sexual fantasy in honor of tonight's esteemed guests. We pointedly removed any constraints and urged him to validate the efficacy of his creative product. If his utmost sexual creation hadn't fired him with uncontrollable lust, how effective would you be at the soiree?

C. From our past experience, we are certain that he has already exercised his impetuous prerogatives and you have, in kind, accorded him your intimate gratitude for his applied talents.

D. But incredible sexual ecstasy is not his primary quest. All artists retain a photographic selection of their work to exhibit their talents to potential clients. Your current appearance is the crowning gem of his cosmetology portfolio, an actual rather than photographic demonstration. Tonight, he will act as your agent and barter your overnight companionship to a high level studio executive in trade for his own long term studio contract.

E. Negotiations will escalate during the soiree. Remember that your fortunes are intertwined with his. His best contractual agreement with a high level executive will reward you with an opportunity to show that elite alpha male your fitness for potential publicity and screen roles.

F. Be on your best behavior. Work together with your stylist / chaperone for the finest outcome.

Good Luck...

She lowered her hand and the letter fluttered to the floor. She stared in the mirror at her multi-view reflection. Her eyes found her stylist, now transformed into her gala chaperone, stoically watching her face. She nodded her readiness to collaborate with him. He gripped her upper arm in his accustomed manner and marched her through the public passages to the grand ballroom.

Her high heeled stride bobbled her exposed breast and the unfettered twin fluttered the translucent cover with its shadowy disk. The effect must be reviving his libido, despite his recent ejaculations. He was smirking, probably thinking about her effect on the alpha males she would soon encounter, their balls teeming with cum from their all day sexual drought.

They were the last couple to arrive. The preceding young ladies had been greeted with aroused appreciation; their fashions were sporty, elegant and, most importantly, risqué with a predilection for combining all three.

One was dressed as a pigtailed flirty schoolgirl with very short plaid skirt and her white blouse unbuttoned to her waist. Her lapels were opened wide to expose a broad expanse of cleavage, threatening to expose her nipples. But the tips stayed under the floating fabric, drawing the male eyes which awaited boyishly for her inevitable nip-slip.

Another coed was clad only in see-thru lingerie and the obligatory high heels; the silky fabrics covered but did not hide her sculpted legs, plush shaved pussy and full, nubile tits.

Demona, the tall wavy brunette, was wearing minimal bondage paraphernalia. She stood with statuesque pride, almost nude, wearing only black leather cuffs and a wide, sturdy collar draping its dangling silver leash between her perfect boobs. In her fashionable black heels, she stood eye level with most of the men. Her countenance was reserved, stoic, almost haughty.

Demona's escort worked the gathering, promoting her intimate bodily particulars: her immodest all-over tan, her pliant lips and energetic tongue, her reddish crowned spongy breasts, her tight juicy cunt, and her athletic physique. Her potential suitors could easily see that her visual presentation was impeccably flawless. What wasn't apparent, though implied by her athletically toned body, was her physical agility.

Her chaperone expounded on that in poetic detail on how, during their recent après preening salon fuck, Demona had dexterously unified those corporeal assets into an undulating carnal fantasy, fully dedicating herself to his exhausted gratification.

A stage prop mask banded her shoulder length hair above her ears but its open eye holes let her deep brown eyes stare confidently on those who chose to draw near. Many men had been eager to make her acquaintance, resigned that only one would ultimately take her as his overnight sexual conquest. She had remained smugly silent, entrusting her infatuated escort to select her next alpha male whose manly nectars she would likewise drain away throughout their looming sexual odyssey.

Now Brenda's entrance had interrupted the buzz of conversation. She was truly the utmost candidate of the sexually charged gala. Her chaperone paused her just inside the tall double doors, drawing the attention of every man present. The other models were perceptibly jealous but Brenda was just one of the gentlemen's many available bedmates and each glamourous lady would receive her due share of alpha male cock tonight.

The small group conversations carried on and Brenda's escort mingled her amongst the mature gentlemen, letting them get up close and personal with her. Introductions occurred with successive men; she heard her chaperone's voice for the first time.

Contract terms and conditions were openly discussed. Her chaperone was cagey, consistently dismissing the rising valuations.

The negotiated quid pro quo was unmistakable. Her exposed tit was hefted and freely caressed as she was moved from introduction to introduction, the tinted nipple often pinched and tweaked. Many men opined on her nipple rouge, curious how the cosmetician had selected the hues. The critiques ranged about even between darker, lighter and just right.

Several men stood sideways to her, resting their palm on her flimsily covered ass cheek, kneading the rounded orb, testing its resiliency as they discussed terms with her chaperone. One left off her ass and slid his hand up her exposed flank to cup and cuddle her exposed boob. He seemed quite interested but then didn't like the terms of the deal and said he would shop around the room.

She displayed deferential decorum, accepting the lewd and stinging molestations with uncomplaining stoical grace. Another man cuddled her body under his arm, fondled her ass cheek and drew her closer by slipping his hand across her chest and under the toga, squeezing her barely concealed tit. Now both breasts were being caught up in the negotiations. Her chaperone's ego bloomed, fed by the obvious craving she invoked in the contending gentlemen.

As the evening wound down, Brenda's stylist bartered his privileged position higher and higher until he accepted the offer of one lust besotted elder executive. They shook hands on the stylist's upcoming career advancement and he relinquished Brenda to his newfound client's control. The man took her hand and smugly promenaded his trophy around the room as he gave his 'good nights' to his jealous fellow executives.

His journey was interrupted when the sound of bold steps clicked the hardwood floor and drew everyone's attention. Demona, the statuesque brunette, was making her way through the crowd. Her stately resolute march signaled to the gathering that they needed to part a path for her and her designated mate.

When the negotiations had culminated in a deal, her chaperone had handed her leash to the euphoric prize-winning man. The stately brunette thereupon grasped the chain mid-length, pivoted 180 on a toe and, with the gripped leash drooped across a bare shoulder, stepped off with her man in tow. Her selecting male held the handle tight as he toddled along behind.

The gathered guests spied her approach, her face fixed in determination, her toned belly and legs flowing with stamina. Her tantalizing boobs bounced spritely in time with her stride. Her mate meanwhile was preoccupied with Demona's undulating ass which, if the chaperone's boasts were true, would soon be rocking powerfully beneath his body, flexing potent vaginal membranes that would be pandering his wet captive cock.

Exiting through the wide open double doors, her footfalls were heard receding down the hallway as she led her alpha male to her waiting bedchamber lair.

The scene was electrifying. The other men lost what remained of their self-control and quickly snatched hold of their selected young women, inspired into action Demona's initiative. Brenda's man clutched her hand with an eager firmness.

"Come along, missy. My balls are bloated and I want to cum in your cunt."

The room emptied as the excited men hastened away with their feminine gems to their fulsome destinies in the specially arranged guest bedroom suites.

-

Cloistered in their private room, Brenda's old man truly tried to be gentle when he fumbled to undress her but his frazzled nerves fouled his dexterity. He was clumsy and tugged at her covering; she was patient, letting him finish his rewarding task. Finally shed of her toga, she calmed his frenzy with gentle hands and soft words, adeptly undressing her tuxedoed paramour.

When his tumescent cock was finally unveiled, she held it lovingly, hefting the doyen's sex organ in her palm. She led him to the bed, eased herself against his recumbent form and let him retake the lead in their imminent coitus.

He fucked her well, a robust missionary carousal, satiating his percolated lust. They dozed. She woke first and checked his groin for readiness. He was soft but awoke at her touch. They worked him into shape and she slid atop his body.

She lay over him, her breasts mashed against his chest, her stiffened nipples poking his nipples. Her boobs rolled between them. Her hands slipped behind his head, fingers petting the cropped hairs, as she kissed his lips. She moved the smooching to his neck, her breath tickling his ears.

Sitting up, she slipped his firmness inside. His elder erection was adequate for the task and she was gentle and patient while getting him inserted.

He palmed her luscious ass cheeks, his hands following their gyrations as she stroked his cock with her juicy cunt. He lay quiescent other than moaning quietly, apparently preferring her to carry the workload this time. She bent to his ear.

"Does it feel good? Do you like fucking my wet young pussy?"

Her breathily whispered inquiry seemed to tickle her fancy. He groaned, jogging his hips once in languid response. She rotated her hips in flat circles, systematically burnishing the circumference of his corona. Soon, she felt him grow harder inside her before her slippery core drew out another moderate ejaculation. After some gentle kisses and murmured flattery for his veteran vigor, she lay still until his snores gave her signal to roll away and cuddle against his sleeping form.

In the morning, he said he was game for one more. After a slow start in sidesaddle, she rolled him on his back and mounted up again in cowgirl. He deflated and even maneuvering him into mauling her tits was ineffective.

She slid down and took him in her mouth. One thumb and finger circled the base of his flaccid cock and the other palm cupped his scrotum. She settled in for the long haul, tenacious for positive outcomes despite his age, pacing herself with gentle slow suckles. He stiffened some but never got truly hard.

Brenda kept at it, randomly flicking her tongue at the knob and corona between deep suctions. At long last, he mildly spewed in her mouth and then passed out. Brenda anxiously checked his pulse and breathing, assuring herself that he was still alive and that she had not instigated his demise. It was not unheard of but 'happy endings' didn't usually connote end-of-life.

She gathered her rumpled toga to her chest and quietly exited the room. She smiled as she sauntered off through the empty hallways to her room. She needed to refresh and rejuvenate before taking up her role in this new day's schedule of bawdy sexual activities.

Arriving at the door labeled 'Brenda', it suddenly occurred to her that the elder executive had not asked her name. She only hoped that he would somehow know her identity when he ranked and judged his nighttime companion's performance. She didn't want to presume that her strains and struggles had been for naught.

----

Demona

The mild mannered executive trailed Demona down the hallway, gripping her leash handle tightly as she marched at a clipped pace. He was afraid if he lost hold, she would simply continue without him and he wouldn't find her again.

She paused at her suite door just long enough for him to come to her side. She waited, gazing calmly through her mask at him, eyes slightly down. He recovered his wits and acted the gentlemen. Trying the door handle, he was mildly surprised to find it unlocked. He flipped the leash off her shoulder, stood a little taller and pulled her inside. She shifted to the center of the room, atop a large Persian carpet, and stood easy.

He looked at the leash handle in his hand, wondering what he was expected to do with it. The best he could think of was unclipping the leash from her collar. She didn't even flinch as he worked the clasp at ring in her collar. Unfastened, he lay the coiled silver chain on the side credenza. She still didn't move, arms hanging loose, fingers curved.

Still unable to settle on their path forward, he took greater note of his surroundings. The room was somewhat large, the king size bed was parked near the far wall, but barely filled a quarter of the space. Bedside stands, a deep cushioned upholstered divan and the carpet were the other main furnishings. Unframed flat mirrors covered the headboard wall and much of the ceiling above the bed.

He assumed the closed doors led to the clothes closet and bath. There were no windows or drapes to break the uniform geometry of the space. The most striking feature was the fireplace, a gas fed replica casting a warm red glow that reflected about the room.

He recovered his manly dignity and sought to take charge. He crooked a finger at his prize female.

"Undress me."

Demona heeded his words and stepped forward. Her movements were at once assertive and submissive. Her fingers tweaked the buttons, slithered off his tie and belt, opened zippers and slid off his formal wear garments. She placed each carefully folded item respectfully on the credenza.

He watched her work, her smooth dusky skin radiating the red room's aura. He was mesmerized into subdued cooperation, collaborating in his docile preparations. His curiosity was uncontainable.

"Tell me, my dear. Which TWA campus do you attend? I have been to several and have not seen you at any of them."

She slowed, touched a finger pad to his lips and gave a quiet 'shush' sound. He unconsciously complied; suddenly realizing she had completed his disrobing. But she continued her preparations.

He felt a little disappointed when she unbuckled one of her wrist cuffs. He had been having simmering thoughts of her shackled somehow while he drilled her. He was a bit confused when she wrapped the black leather cuff around his wrist and tightened it down. She did the same with the other side. She led him to the bed and helped him lay on the mattress.

At some unknown point, she had fixed a silver "D", set with an outline of small red rubies, on her throat collar ring. It dangled past his face as she reached across his body and secured the far cuff to the corner post chain.

Now her tit was in his face. It dipped to his chin and Demona teased his lips, poking the spongy tip against the tongue tip protruding to get a taste. She held it steady as he lifted his neck to play with her nipple, licking, suckling, biting the feminine treat. Her nub showed its pleasure with hardened reaction.

She broke off and made quick work of the other wrist. He looked at his hands, yanking on the chains; looking at and testing each one. They were real. His head lay back and she dipped her other tit to his lips for equal attention. He complied.

She placed a heeled foot next to his bare leg and transferred the ankle cuff to his, fastening that limb to the foot corner post. All the while, he stared at her blossomed open pussy lips, displaying a sheen of feminine dew; the result, he surmised, of his tit sucking. Rounding the bed, she did the same to his other leg, copping the same display. Righting again, she stood over his recumbent, naked form and let her masked gaze dwell on his face. Again, his curiosity, tempered with a tangible angst, was irresistible.

"Now what?"

She touched his lips again and repeated the quiet 'shush' sound. Retrieving a bottle, she dribbled his now tumescent erection with a thin trail of fragrant oil. He jerked mildly when the cool oil hit his hot cock. She sucked in a quick gasp, her only hint of sympathy. Placing the bottle aside, she turned to her task.

Her finger nail traced a line from his knob, down the bulging cock vein and the scrotum stitch, ending under his weighty ball sack. A slight poke and she reversed her path, ending at his knob's tip slit. A little wiggle there and down the length again. He was hard now and he felt the blood filling his cock and his face.

She slid her opposite palm beneath his shaft. The other slid over top and his erection was cradled between the two. Her hands slid up and down, warming the oil and his skin. Finally, her upper hand curled the fingers around his manly tube. She used the free arm to brace as she leaned over his body, blocking the view of his groin with her suspended breasts. Her face hovered over his, her eyes holding a close stare.

Her hand moved in slow motion, firmly squeezing his manhood, slithering with oily consistency. He felt the smooth strokes, an uncommon situation where he was not controlling the interaction. He jogged his hips, seeking a quicker pace. He saw her eyebrow lift within the mask's eyehole and she stopped her strokes.

"Uh uh" she cautioned.

He took her meaning and settled his ass back onto the mattress. After a moment, she nodded an acknowledgement of his surrender and resumed at the same slow pace. Only a perceptible tightening of her grip made a difference in his sensations.