"Are you seriously questioning me? I just do...and that's enough."
"I couldn't possibly go to the banquet on a leash, Michael," her voice was an octave higher than normal, incredulous to his suggestion.
"I believe you could...and you will."
She gave him a look of utter horror, "But..." He placed his finger to her lips to silence her protestations, and she lowered her gaze in resignation.
"No whining. It's not allowed."
Michael pulled a small bag from the back seat. Inside was a red collar, studded with clear, sparkling gems and a matching leash. It was the exact color of her dress and heels. And her cheeks bloomed a complimentary shade of scarlet as he slipped the leash around her neck, clasping it in front, and attaching the leash to the silver loop meant for such purpose.
"Stay," he commanded. She rolled her eyes at the ridiculousness of his command and closed her eyes, humiliated to be treated like an animal, but she refused to let him see it. It would only encourage him.
Michael came around the front of the car and opened her door. Normally, he would have offered his hand, taken hers, and helped her up from her seat. This time, however, he reached in, took hold of the red leather leash, and pulled her gently from the car.
"I hope I won't have to spend much time leash training you, my love," his eyes glittered with mischief, "you've always been such a smart, good girl." He eyed her in that way that warned she had best behave. She said nothing in response, but began to dutifully walk behind him as he made his way to the front door of the building. He yanked the leash a bit, pulling her forward and upsetting her balance. She caught herself before stumbling, her eyes wide with surprise.
"Honey, do walk beside me like the obedient slut you are. Behind me is so...timid...so meek. You aren't weak, my dear...are you?"
"No, sir, I am not." There was a slight, and noticeable edge to her voice which caused Michael to frown and "tsk, tsk" his disappointment.
"Are we being spoiled now, pet? You know that will lead to nothing good, don't you? Nothing good." He shook his head disapprovingly, and she bent hers in submission and apology.
"I'm sorry. I'll behave. I promise."
"That's a good girl, Lauren." He turned again and began walking forward. She stepped quickly to catch up and remain at his side, the benefit to her being that the leash was less noticeable if she stayed close.
As he opened the door and walked in front of her, pulling her behind him, she nearly jogged to keep the leash slack and to match the speed of his gait. Making his way to the front desk, he asked the receptionist which ballroom the medical awards banquet was being held in. She smiled pleasantly and gave him the requested information. He glanced sideways at Lauren, clicked his tongue as if in warning of his movement, and began to proceed to his destination. The tapping of her heels on the marble tile echoed in the high-ceilinged lobby. They were uneven and sounded something like Morse Code...possibly a call for help...surely a message of supreme embarrassment. What would the other doctor's wives say? What would they think? Surely they would judge...possibly even call Michael in for abusive behavior. What was he thinking in doing this?
When they reached the giant arched doorways of the ballroom, Michael turned to Lauren.
"Turn around, my pet." She did. And he began to unzip her dress.
She turned quickly toward him and hissed," My god, Michael, what are you doing?!"
"Ah, ah, ah...you do not question me, love. And never take that tone. I can see I have a lot more training to do." He continued to unzip her dress, then pulled it from her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, encircling her feet like a puddle into which she wished she could sink and drown on the spot. Her facial expression was one of complete horror, her cheeks burning, her body shaking.
There she stood, her back to the doorway, in nothing but her underthings, red heels, a collar, and leash. Her face blazed heat that spilled down her throat and onto her chest, which was heaving with fear.
"Pick up your dress, love, and give it to me." She did as requested, but refused to look at him, her embarrassment turning to anger.
"Come now. Let us join the party." He tugged the leash gently and she followed, her eyes lowered and nearly closed in shame. She could see several sets of feet in shiny dress shoes and heels as they made their way into the crowd.
"Kevin! How are you? I was hoping to see you here. And this must be your lovely wife, Anne, that I've heard so much about? Lauren, say hello to Kevin and Anne." His voice was jovial as he shook hands in greeting, leaned forward to kiss Anne's cheek, and put his hand beneath Lauren's chin, pulling up to force her to look at Anne.
In front of her, Anne stood naked, in nothing but a pair of open-toed stiletto pumps and black fish net thigh high stockings.
"What the....?" Lauren looked around the room filled with mostly men in tuxedos and naked women in striking heels and sparkling jewelry. A few women in expensive evening gowns led naked and semi-naked men from table to table, glasses of champagne in hand as they toasted each other and laughed.
"What kind of medical awards banquet is this?"
"It's not, my dear. That's simply our cover. Now follow me to our table. There are a few more people I'd like you to meet."
She looked around the room in awe as he tugged her gently to keep her at his side. Her body betrayed her embarrassment by donning trails of goosebumps like tiny pearls along her skin and triggering her clitoris to twitch and her pussy to moisten.
So many naked bodies.
When they came to their table, Michael pulled out his chair and sat down, leaving her to stand beside him. He looked up at her, pushed the chair beside him back far enough to provide space, and then glanced at the floor meaningfully. Lauren's eyes widened imploringly, but she dared not refuse his silent command. She lowered herself to her knees.
"Take off your shoes, my dear. I want you to be comfortable at my feet."
She did as requested, turned her feet inward, her big toes touching. and settled her backside onto her heels. A man sat beside Michael and they began to talk, but he never let go of her leash. She sat there, at his side, blushing hotly, trembling, and fuming inside, mostly at herself...mostly at her body, which seemed to enjoy every second of what her mind felt was torture.
"Is this your wife, Michael?" Both men gazed at her from above.
"Yes...yes this is Lauren. Isn't she beautiful?" He ran his hands through her soft curls.
"She's gorgeous. Does she know any tricks?" The man laughed deeply, but looked at her admiringly.
"Oh, plenty. Would you like to see?"
"Of course!" His eyes widened like a school boy's in the presence of an ice cream truck.
Michael patted her head, "Lauren, touch yourself, please."
She looked up at him with a look of pained questioning, her lips parting, sucking in sharply.
"Go on...you can do it. Pull your panties aside and touch yourself."
She spread her knees, pulled her panties aside, and touched herself.
"Keep going...that's wonderful..." He reached down and pulled her breasts from the cups of her bra, letting them set on top, plumped up, her nipples erect from the cold of the room and the illicit nature of her situation.
"Lay on the floor, Lauren, and continue."
She sighed, her breath growing quicker and more shallow as she lay back on the floor, one hand holding her panties out of the way, the other still circling her clit.
"I want you to make yourself come, Lauren."
Lauren closed her eyes in shame. She wanted to recede into the floor and become one with the basement. But she did as Michael commanded. Her fingers slipping inside of her, the palm of her hand pressing against her clit, she rubbed herself to orgasm quite quickly, cried out softly with the climax. Her cheeks flamed a red that trailed down her throat, across her breasts, all the way to her belly. She pulled her hands from between her quivering thighs and looked up at Michael. His face beamed with pride and lust.
"Come..." He patted his thigh, and she came back to her knees, back to his side. She could see the lump against his thigh and knew that he was hard beneath the fabric of his dress pants. He took her hand, inhaled the scent from it deeply, and then slipped her first two fingers into his mouth, sucking the wetness from her. He licked his lips, closed his eyes briefly, an smiled.
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Lauren smiled for the first time that night. Looking up, she saw in him a man she had yet to meet after fifteen years of marriage. And looking inward, she began to see a woman she'd never realized she'd wanted to be. How was it that he could know her desires better than she knew herself? Fifteen years provides a lot of time for study.
nice one, LL
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