TWO DOMS FOR DINNER
by Dorothy Freed

“Do you remember the fantasy you whispered in my ear one night in the playroom?” Sir inquires. “The one where you’re made to serve two dominant men—in every way?”

“Two…dominant men, Sir,” I say. My voice goes up a notch on the word two. “And in every way? Did I say that?”

“You did, D, and I’ve arranged it,” he says, grinning. “My old friend Charles is coming to dinner tomorrow evening. You remember him, don’t you?”

“How could I not? You lent me to him at a party once or twice, years ago. Had quite a way with a whip, didn’t he?” I’m blushing as I speak, and my lady parts clench at the memory.

“Still my little slut, even at your age,” he replies proudly. “Wear something hot, with stockings and a garter belt underneath, no bra or panties.”

“Yes, Sir,” I say.

Sir and I have been a Dominant/submissive couple for many years. And although the sex is less frequent and our play is less strenuous than it once was, we’re lucky enough to still be in love and happy with the lifestyle we’ve chosen. Still, it’s been years since we were active in the BDSM party scene, and I miss the thrill of play with other Doms—under Sir’s watchful eye.

On the day of Charles’s visit I’m so excited I can hardly speak, imagining the evening to come. I spend hours choosing an outfit, finally fixing on a clingy, low-cut, burgundy-colored top that barely covers the fullness of my breasts; a flouncy, knee-length black skirt that makes me feel girlish; and the comfortable, low-heeled slippers my feet insist on these days—and no bra or panties, as ordered.

After I’m finally dressed, I apply makeup and fuss with my short, silvery hair, then check my appearance in our full-length bedroom mirror. Not bad, I think, smiling at my image and enjoying the low hum of desire between my legs.

I glance at the clock. It’s a little after five. Our guest is expected to arrive at six thirty. I go into the kitchen, set the table and assemble the ingredients for a simple meal: pasta and veggies with Sir’s favorite marinara sauce, a simple salad with walnut oil and wine vinegar dressing, crusty bread and butter, and ice cream for dessert. Keeping it simple will leave more time for play.

I’ve set water on to boil for the pasta and I’m standing at the stove stirring my sauce when Sir comes up behind me. “You make one hell of a beautiful kitchen slave, D,” he says as I feel his warm hands cupping my breasts and his fingers lightly tweaking my nipples. I arch my back and sigh with pleasure. “Martha Stewart of the BDSM set,” I say, happily. “That’s me.”

“And now for the finishing touch to your outfit,” Sir says, slipping my black chain-link collar around my neck. “There, that’s my girl.”

Charles arrives on the dot of six thirty, a tall, thick-bodied man in his early sixties, with a box of dark chocolates in his hand as a gift for his hostess. His hair’s a bit thinner and grayer than I remember it. He’s put on some weight as well. But his full lips are soft on mine when he kisses me, and I melt into him as his tongue explores my mouth. I’m flushed with arousal when he releases me. “D, you look beautiful,” he says.

“Thank you, Sir,” I say, accepting his gift. I take his coat and hang it up in the study while he exchanges hearty handshakes with my owner. “You’re one lucky man to have a woman like that,” I hear him tell Sir, and so the evening begins.

The men sit at either end of the table, chatting with each other while watching every move I make. I serve the dinner as gracefully as possible. But the truth is I’m so excited that I’m stammering. Sir slides a hand up my skirt and teases my pussy lips when I set his plate on the table. “No panties,” he informs Charles, who waves me over to his end of the table to confirm this. I look down, blushing as he fondles me, but I’m grinning like a fool.

Neither man drinks wine while they’re topping, but I pour myself a glass when I finally sit down. I’m told dinner is delicious but I’m too aroused to taste a thing. When the dishes are cleared, I serve the ice cream, accompanied by the chocolates. There’s a tension building between the three of us by the time the meal is over, and I clear the table and carry the dishes to the sink. My pulse quickens as both men watch me with predatory smiles.

“Use the bathroom if you need to, D, and then go straight to the playroom and undress. I want to find you kneeling face down and ass up when we join you. I placed a pillow on the floor to spare your knees because I’m a very kind man.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir,” I mumble. I feel them watching me as I head down the hall.

I enter the playroom and undress, then kneel as ordered, and wait, heart pounding, clit pulsing in anticipation of what is to come. The warm air that blows from the room’s heating vent feels cool against my naked skin. In spite of my excitement, I’m shifting my weight, hoping they’ll get here before my knees give out. I hear heavy footsteps coming toward me, then enter the room, and the men stand gazing down at me.

“Well isn’t this a sight to behold,” Sir says, reaching down to tease the crack of my ass. I arch my back slightly and sigh with pleasure. By now my legs begin trembling and I’m ordered to rise and present myself—legs apart, shoulders back, hands behind my head. I stand proud, smiling, knowing the pose makes my breasts stand out. Charles is eating me up with his eyes.

Sir cuffs my wrists and attaches them to chains that hang from the ceiling.

“I’ve laid out some of my favorite toys,” he tells Charles, indicating the various implements of pleasure spread out on his desk. “I’m going to give D a warm-up with some of these toys and show you how she responds to them. Feel free to join in. The more the merrier.”

He begins with the small rubber whip, which is actually my favorite, dangling it over my breasts, whipping them lightly and making my nipples even harder than they already are. Behind me Charles’s big, warm hands slide down over my back and rear before delivering a series of smacks to my asscheeks.

The two Doms switch positions. Sir moves behind me, spanking me with the long-handled leather paddle, which makes a loud slapping sound as it strikes. Charles, facing my front, gazes into my eyes as he tweaks my nipples and then amuses himself by lightly slapping my breasts, making them swing back and forth.

“Ohhh, Sirs,” I moan, as the sensations intensify.

“She responds well to nipple clamps. Try the small red ones,” Sir suggests.

“Excellent idea, don’t mind if I do.” With an evil grin Charles clips each of my nipples, teasing them with his fingers. My breasts begin to tingle; they feel lit up from the inside out.

“Try this larger one on her pussy and clip her lips together,” Sir says. “You’ll get quite a rise out of her that way.” I yelp as he applies it. “And here, hang this weight from it.” He hands Charles one. I yelp again as it’s attached, and I feel the weight of it swinging between my legs.

Both Doms step back to admire their work. “Let’s try something different,” Sir says, and disconnects me from the chains. “Would you care for a blow job?” he inquires politely.

“Well, yes, just to be polite,” Charles is grinning from ear to ear.

“Don’t I get a say in this?” I wonder aloud, teasing.

“Of course not,” Sir says. “Get down on your knees, woman. Ask Charles if you may have his permission to give him a blow job.”

“May I please have your permission to give you a blow job, Sir?” I ask Charles, kneeling before him. My voice is a whisper and my face flames with embarrassment.

“Yes, of course, my dear, since you’ve asked so respectfully.” As Charles says this, he unzips his fly, freeing his cock from his pants.

It’s half hard and growing rapidly, with a mushroom shaped head and a thick, veiny shaft. I reach for it, feeling it grow in my hands. I inhale its musky fragrance, licking at the salty drops of precome that form at its tip. Unhinging my jaw, I draw the full length of it into my mouth, feeling it press against the back of my throat. Charles sighs deeply with pleasure, clasps his hands behind my head, holding it in position, and begins pumping his hips.

“Good at it, isn’t she,” Sir comments.

“Oh god, yes,” Charles says, moaning. “Can she do this all night?”

“Probably,” my owner replies. “Shall we find out?”

I’m aware of Sir watching me. I’m making him proud, I think, and although my jaw begins aching, I keep on, desiring only to please.

“I’m getting ready to come,” Charles says urgently, pulling out. Wrapping my hands around his cock, I stroke him to orgasm. His thick white come sprays out over my breasts. I look up at Sir beseechingly, my pussy clenching, longing to be fucked.

“You’ve earned it, D,” Sir says, understanding my need. He bends me over his desk, while Charles settles himself comfortably in Sir’s computer chair to watch the action. I squeal when the weighted clips are removed from my pussy lips and moan as he enters me, fucking me hard. Reaching down, I rub my clit with my fingers. I’m so turned on I come almost immediately. The orgasm is powerful and goes on for a long time. Sir comes with a groan and bends over me, nuzzling my neck and stroking my hair.

“Bravo, my friends,” Charles says, with a big wide smile. “Good show.”

We tidy up and move to the living room, where I serve the men wine and the rest of the chocolates. They sit on the couch chatting, caressing me affectionately while I sit at their feet.

“Tonight has been fun,” Sir tells Charles. “Let’s do this again soon.”

“Just let me know when,” Charles replies. He reaches down to cup my breasts in his hands. “It’ll be my pleasure.”

“Mine too, Sirs,” I say, grinning.

The evening with two Doms is a success beyond my dreams.