A Night at the Theatre
This story was co-written with Sandy Monroe.
One Friday morning, mid-November, I was surprised to receive a call from Ben. With his new job in the City, I never usually heard from him during the day, and rarely saw him except at the weekends.
“Hi Ali,” he said, sounding very anxious. “Are you free to talk?”
I looked around, intrigued, a little worried, but there was no one in earshot. “Yes. What’s up?”
He was silent for a few seconds, which only made me more nervous. “You remember the other night?” he asked eventually.
“In the conference room?”
“I remember.” I’d visited him in his new office, dropping in at the end of the day as everyone was heading home. We’d soon had the place to ourselves. The conference room had a large glass wall with a magnificent view across London from a height of twenty-something storeys. I stripped out of everything except my heels and insisted that Ben take advantage of me in that thrilling setting. I bent over, my breasts squashed against the polished hardwood table, and Ben took me from behind. Neither of us had a condom handy, so he fucked me in the ass while I looked out at the neighbouring office blocks, wondering whether anyone was watching us. All the way home, I’d had that exquisitely dirty sensation of cum trickling from my ass.
“We were caught on film,” Ben said, interrupting my memory of this delicious encounter.
“Apparently there’s a secret security camera in there.”
I laughed. “So now the whole office knows what a stud you are?”
“No,” he said, not amused. “Just the boss, I think. He called me to come see him this morning, gave me a bollocking, said it was completely unacceptable and grounds for immediate dismissal.”
I was aghast. “He fired you?”
“I really thought he was going to. But he just stood there studying me for a minute, then said, ‘As it happens, I need an escort for tonight. If you’ll give me your girlfriend for tonight, perhaps I can re-evaluate your performance based on hers.'”
I blinked, shocked. “What did you say?”
“Ali, if you were any other girl, I’d have said no immediately, but…” He trailed off.
“You said yes.”
There was a guilty silence. “I said it was up to you,” he muttered.
I sighed. Baffled. What kind of boyfriend asks his girlfriend for permission to give her to someone else. This wasn’t on my list of fantasies. If I said no, would Ben lose his job? If I said yes, would Ben still respect me? More importantly, what the hell would I be getting myself into? I knew nothing about Ben’s boss.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Ben’s boss was rich — he had to be — and unafraid to ask his employee for the use of his girlfriend, all of which reeked of power and confidence, and had done so after watching video of me getting fucked in the ass in a semi-public arena. I guess that whatever he wanted from me, it was more than a pretty girl to hang off his elbow.
“Well,” I said eventually, “I can’t help feeling partly responsible for this, but this has to be your decision, Ben. You will have to live with the consequences.”
He breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Ali. I love you. You’re the best girlfriend ever.”
“Let’s hope you still feel that way tomorrow.”
Five minutes later I received a text from him: “Car will collect you at 6.30. Wear your new black dress and my favourite heels. Have fun!”
I called off sick for the rest of the day. I spent the afternoon letting the professionals make me beautiful — mani, pedi, waxing, threading, styling — and made it home just before six. Fiona had moved out at the end of September, taken away by her new job, and I missed having her in my life. The little flat felt lonely without her, and Ben wasn’t there often enough to make up for it. He wasn’t there often enough to keep me properly satisfied with my love life. He was a great boyfriend, and I had no intention of cheating on him, but I’d been feeling increasingly restless of late.
This strange arrangement with his boss was something different, exciting. I felt like I was preparing for a blind date. What would he be like? Would he be a handsome-yet-damaged billionaire à la Christian Grey? The idea made me laugh, and yet a life of luxury and BDSM held a certain allure. Or would he be a brute of a man who used women for sex and I would just be a plaything to be used, abused and discarded — which, I have to confess, was even more to my liking. My sexual fantasies can get very dark. As long as he wasn’t boring. As long as he didn’t do me any permanent damage. As long as the sex was safe… That was important. I have my limits.
I only had half an hour to clean up, put my make-up on and dress. At least I didn’t need to decide what I was wearing. Ben had asked for my new Lipsy dress which is black with gorgeous sequined detail. Not only is it sleeveless, but it really draws attention to my breasts. It’s bahis firmaları a short dress, a very daring dress to wear without underwear, so I decided to play safe and wear a thong and some hold-ups. Finally I slipped into the black patent Pleaser Domina stripper heels that Ben bought me for my birthday and that I hadn’t yet worn outside the bedroom. I hoped I wouldn’t need to walk far in them.
I decided to risk going without a coat. There was a car being sent for me, after all. The weather was dry and fairly cold, but I could handle the cold if necessary. All I took was my small black handbag, just big enough for my essentials.
Finally I hastened out of the flat and down the stairs to the street, only five minutes late.
A black limousine waited immediately outside the street door. I knew immediately that it was for me, even before the door opened almost magically for me.
I peered inside nervously, but it was empty, a luxurious space of cream leather isolated from the outside world by tinted glass. The chauffeur was only dimly visible through the dark glass. He waited with infinite patience while I found the courage to step inside and take a seat, then the door closed gently by itself, and the sounds of the street were silenced.
It felt so unreal. The car seat was so comfortable I could have slept in it easily, if I weren’t so nervous. The cool leather pressed against my bare thighs, and my dress barely covered anything of my cheeks. It was so quiet, even the engine, when it started, could hardly be felt.
A glass of champagne sat on a shelf near me, next to a little wooden box and a silver envelope. I opened the envelope and read the card inside:
“Tonight you are the guest and property of Mr Duncan Johnson. He will greet you on arrival. You will address him only as ‘Sir’. He has a gift for you that he wishes you to wear. Apart from the dress and shoes, you may not wear anything else.”
Wow. I laughed. Nothing else? In this dress? The card wasn’t signed, but it was Ben’s handwriting. He seemed to be enjoying giving me to his boss. Was he just selling me for his career? Or was this some cuckold fantasy he was playing out? Sighing, I kicked my shoes off and removed my hold-ups and thong, wondering just how well the chauffeur could see me.
Then I opened the box, and… Holy fuck. Holy. Fuck. A butt plug. A huge butt plug. Not novelty-monster huge, but much bigger than my usual medium-sized plug. Wearing this one would be like walking around with Ben’s not-insignificant cock shoved up my ass. It was beautiful too. Black and shiny, and suspended from the drawstring was a little crystal pendant, designed to catch the light as it dangled below my wide-stretched ass.
Nestled next to it in the box was a tube of lube. I hitched up my skirt and squatted on the floor of the car. I gave the plug a liberal coating of lubricant, trying not to get my hands too messy, and squeezed more in and around the entrance of my ass. Wedging the plug between the floor and my tight ring, I lowered myself slowly. Very quickly I was being stretched wider than ever before, painfully wide, deliciously wide. My whole body was tense with the wonder of it.
Slowly I descended, slowly it penetrated, and when at last it popped into place I just sat there on the floor, with my eyes closed, delighting in being so utterly full. If the driver could see me, he would have been treated to the sight of a girl lost in pleasure, her legs wide, her ass stuffed, her bare pussy on display and very wet.
Eventually I recovered enough to adjust my dress and sit again, and I sipped champagne as we glided through the busy London streets, stopping at last outside the Theatre Royal Haymarket.
The door glided open and I stepped out, straightening my dress as I did. A tall, black man in a grey bespoke suit stood there waiting for me. Not only was he one of the tallest men I had ever seen, he had an athletic physique to go with it. His focus was absolutely on me, unashamedly studying me, his gaze lingering between my thighs. He was a beautiful man, confident, predatory.
He held out a hand in greeting. I tried to shake his hand, but he took my hand and lifted it to his lips. “Miss X–,” he said. “I’m so pleased you are mine tonight. May I call you ‘Ali’?”
“Please do,” I replied, a little overwhelmed. “Sir,” I added. He laughed, and nodded his satisfaction.
I’d had no idea Ben’s boss was black. I’d never been with a black guy before. I’d long had the desire to spend a hot night with a black guy, however. I hadn’t included it on my fantasy list, but I definitely had a crush on black guys.
I’d never had a black cock before. I wondered if it was true what they say about black men. The plug in my ass led me to suspect that, at least in this case, it was. I couldn’t wait to find out…
Mr Johnson guided me through the crowd with his hand on the small of my back — at least, that’s where it started. As kaçak iddaa we fought against the queues, his hand steadily moved lower until his fingertips touched the bare skin of my thighs, and as we moved away from the queues his fingers moved further to feel between my cheeks, searching for the butt plug. I gasped as he found it and pushed up against it.
I had no one to protect me from this man that devoured me so hungrily with his eyes. I could, of course, have left. I could have walked away at any time. But Ben needed me to play the submissive that night. His job was on the line. And even if it hadn’t been, there was something powerfully seductive about the danger I sensed. I wanted to find out what Mr Johnson wanted from me.
As we walked, we chit-chatted in that very English way about the weather, politics and celebrities. It felt like a date. It felt a bit like Richard Gere taking Julia Roberts to the opera, except I had a butt plug instead of a diamond necklace. Mr Johnson nodded to the people he knew, and clearly he was well known.
I caught many lustful and disapproving looks thrown my way — I was showing so much skin I’m sure I looked like a prostitute, especially with the stripper heels. Between the plug filling my ass and the exhibitionist thrill of the short dress, I was too aroused to care. My inner slut was loving the attention.
At the end of the corridor, he opened a door and guided me through. It was a private box. Mr Johnson sat in the corner with his back to the grand circle of public seating, and I sat next to him. The seats were a lot more comfortable than the seats I’m used to in theatres, and we had a clear view of the stage. Two glasses of champagne sparkled merrily on the small table beside us.
Waiting for the play to start, he asked me about my work at the university and I explained about my research into medieval folklore and history. Then the lights dimmed and the play started. It was some play that I’d never heard of and can’t now remember the name of. I didn’t pay much attention to it at the time.
With the audience absorbed by the play, Mr Johnson whispered in my ear: “Lift your dress up around your waist and spread your legs wide.”
I was not invisible. A segment of the upper circle, and much of the gallery, had a decent view of our box. The balcony walls maybe blocked the view below my waist, but I wasn’t sure. There was a good chance that someone would have a good view of my exposed pussy.
I only hesitated for a second. “Yes, Sir,” I whispered, and did as instructed. I carefully lifted the skirt, trying to fix it without creasing it. I shifted a bit so that I could open my legs wide, displaying my pussy to Mr Johnson and anyone else with a view. I studied the people there to see if any were looking at me, until I realised that my looking at them was actually attracting attention. I turned to watch the play instead.
I cried out softly in surprise when gentle vibrations excited my ass — the butt plug was a vibrator! “Ssshh,” somebody hissed from the other side of the wall. They heard me! I would have to be careful. I guessed Mr Johnson had a remote control in his pocket. My whole body tingled in response to the unexpected stimulation and I grabbed my breasts, squeezing them, pinching the nipples gently through the lacy fabric of my dress.
Mr Johnson reached out with one hand and ran his fingers along my thigh in teasing circles. I was freshly waxed, hairless except for a thin landing strip. His fingertips explored my labia — I was very wet — and circled around my clit. Very quickly I lost all sense of the play, I was focussed completely on the dance of his fingers.
As his exploring fingers learned my contours and grew more confident, he started pushing them into me, first one, then two, then pulling out to circle again about my clit, smearing my pussy juices all around. I didn’t look, but I hoped that there were people watching this show. It felt so good to have those long, black fingers searching for my G-spot. He found it easily and circled on it with his long, thick, black fingers. It was so good I had to bite my own hands to mute my groans. He even touched the butt plug vibrating in my ass through the thin wall separating my ass and my pussy.
He fingered me with abandon. The combination of clitoral stimulation, the butt plug vibrating in my ass and being finger fucked in public was too exciting. My climax, when it came, came swiftly and unexpectedly, and the huge plug vibrating in my ass made my orgasm so much stronger than usual. I grabbed hold of Mr Johnson’s shoulder with one hand and the seat back with the other as my body rocked through a series of intense contractions and I tried desperately not to make any noise. My juices poured out over his hand, splashing onto the floor, while my muscles clenched about his fingers.
Mr Johnson pulled his fingers out and wiped them on my thigh, then picked up his champagne and ignored me while I sat kaçak bahis there recovering, my shame exposed to all who wished to see. The vibrations were switched off, thankfully. I hoped no one had heard us. And also I hoped they had. I felt like such a wanton slut, and very proud of myself for it.
During the interval we went outside for a breath of fresh air, but not for long. It was dark and cold, although lively enough. It was strange and exciting being with someone so different. All my boyfriends had been white-British, and certainly none had towered over me the way Mr Johnson did. Even in my six inch heels my eyes were at the level of his chin.
Mr Johnson stopped and took my hands in his. His dark, possessive eyes looked down into mine. I wondered if he was about to kiss me. The thought made me tingle with anticipation. “You’re a very interesting girl, Ali,” he said.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“I was surprised that Ben was willing to give you to me. I think I’m even more surprised now.” He bent to kiss my cheek, and murmured in my ear, “If you were mine, I wouldn’t let anyone touch you.”
I pulled away and looked at him sternly. “I don’t think I’d like that, Sir. I don’t think any one man could satisfy me, even you. Sir.”
He grinned suddenly. “I’d say I’d like to try!” He turned serious and added, “but the truth is I’m travelling so much you’d hardly ever see me.”
“That wouldn’t be acceptable, Sir.”
“No.” For the first time that evening he didn’t exude absolute confidence. “But I’d love to make this a regular thing. Would Ben be willing to give you to me on a regular basis? Maybe one night a month?”
Echoing his earlier move, I kissed his cheek, and murmured in his ear, “It’s not Ben who decides that, Sir.”
His eyes lit up and he smiled at me. “Indeed? So how can I persuade you?”
I smiled back. “Let’s consider tonight a performance evaluation. If all goes well…” I winked at him and turned to go back to the theatre. The interval bell was ringing, summoning us back for Round 2.
At first it seemed that Mr Johnson was content just to watch the play. I tried to follow it, but it was confusing and I was soon bored. I wanted to be one of the players in the night’s entertainment, not a spectator. I placed my hand on Mr Johnson’s crotch and caressed the hard bulge concealed by the fabric.
Mr Johnson took my hand and moved it away. “If you’re so desperate for it,” he whispered in my ear, “get on your knees and use your mouth.”
“Yes, Sir,” I whispered back. “Thank you, Sir.”
I quickly slipped from my chair to my knees, in front of Mr Johnson. I looked up into his eyes — he was watching the stage just like the rest of the audience.
I opened his belt and unzipped his fly, and untangled his cock from his boxer shorts. It was semi-erect but it was huge already. I grabbed it gently and licked it over. Mr Johnson shifted a bit in this chair but was still watching the play. I could feel his cock stiffening and throbbing in my hand.
I took its head in my mouth and stopped. I did nothing, just enjoyed this huge cock head between my lips. Then I slowly licked his head over, twirling my tongue. As I worked on his member, it became fully erect. It wasn’t the longest I’d ever met, but it was still a respectable length, certainly longer than Ben’s. But it was, without question, the thickest cock I had ever seen in real life. If I had met Mr Johnson a year ago, I would have been terrified of his cock. Now, though, the thought of it stretching me, fucking me, made me burn with hunger.
My pussy was getting wet again. There I was, on my knees in this fancy theatre, in front of this huge black guy, and his huge black cock was standing in my hands, his cock head in my mouth, and at first sight, he was totally ignoring me, he was watching the play on the stage.
Well, that had to change. I started to bob my head up and down his huge cock. I managed to shove half of his huge cock into my mouth. It filled my mouth, just as my ass was filled.
I looked up at him again. This time his eyes were closed and he enjoyed me sucking his cock, leaning back into his chair. I closed my eyes as well for a moment, and stopped, enjoying his cock throbbing in my mouth. It was so hot to have it between my lips. I sucked it like this for a moment, then I started bobbing again.
I felt him reaching into my hair. He grabbed my head and pulled me back. For a moment, I thought I had disappointed him, but then I saw the lust in his eyes. He slipped forward in his chair, and grabbed his cock in front of my face. He slapped my cheeks with his cock head, wet with my saliva, which made me giggle.
“Ssshh,” I heard a lady hissing, again. Somebody else was coughing, disturbed. But I didn’t care. I felt like this was the night of my life.
He touched my lips with his cock head, then pulled back slightly. I looked at him, smiling. He wasn’t looking into my eyes; he was watching in awe how my saliva was glistening on his black cock. He touched my lips with his huge black cock again, this time moving it around on them like a lollipop. I pushed my tongue to it just as I would taste a bit of candy.