In Character- Threesome Dangerous Sex Story by Salty Vixen

I step back from the mirror and try to ignore the panic in the face reflected there. Instead of giving in to that girl with the wide, shining eyes and flushed skin, I drop my gaze to my body and survey with a critical eye. Boots? Check. Fishnets? Check. Skirt of the “Undeniably Too Short” persuasion? Check. Now arises the difficulty.

My blouse looks altogether too much as if I have raided my Mom’s closet to play “Teacher.” Or, I suppose, like I’ve raided my closet to play “Teacher.” My work clothes aren’t really designed for outings like this. Sure, the blouse is black, which is a point in its favor, and it clings slightly to my breasts, but... I release the top two buttons and push up on my tits. Better. But still not the image of Wanton Sex Slave that I’m trying for.

I’ve been planning this night for weeks and I want it to be perfect. I’ve talked with the two of them on the phone for hours and I know they are just what I want. This is just what I want: A sub to console me and for me to console; a Master who is rough, strict, and somehow has the most gentle voice I’ve ever heard.

I’m trembling, actually trembling, and I hold on to the vanity while I press my forehead to the glass. These boots feel so foreign against my legs, tight enough to suffocate and sucking sweat from my pores. I deliberately pull air into my chest, deliberately release the tightness there. I can be calm.

“Holy fuck, holy fuck, holy fuck!” Well, maybe not calm yet. And that whispered litany would certainly shock the parents of my Drama students.

Wait. That’s it! Drama. Theatre. Costume. I’ll be playing a role tonight and I just need to find the right adornment. A Sex Slave needs… a corset! Something to cage and confine. But how?

I always tell my students to Improvise! in a suitably dramatic tone. The whole point of Theatre is that you have to fake it! So I totter to the closet on the unfamiliar heels, attacking the army of fabrics on their wire hangers. Then I feel it. Smooth and cool. Shiny buttons promising sweet captivity. I shrug into the black vest, which is meant to be worn under a jacket and, as I discover upon fastening those lovely buttons, is half a size too small. The cloth stretches tightly around my middle, keeping my breath shallow. Yes.

I go back to check the mirror, my jaw set and a glint in my eyes (anticipation now instead of terror). Pop another button on the blouse. Reach into my bra to pull out the girls (now pressed up deliciously by my makeshift corset).

“Thank god…” Shaking words on a puff of air.

***

That woman I was an hour ago? The one who picked out this slutty outfit? I want to kick her ass. Lots of bravado in the safety of my apartment, but where is she now? She’s certainly not the one sitting in a bus terminal with half her ass bare and sticking to a plastic seat. She’s not the one fielding the stares of honest folk who must be wondering why a hooker is working the Greyhound in the middle of the afternoon. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Should I just go home? Tail between my legs?

Is that really what you want between your legs? She’s back.

***

This terminal is bigger and full of noise, frightening the small town girl inside me. But I’m not a small town girl right now, remember? I’m anonymous. I’m part of a throng of travelers who I imagine to be on their way to illicit trysts of their own.

When she steps forward to meet me, I feel something inside me clench and realize I’m wet. My nipples are tight.

I’m going to like this play.

***

A club. The darkness is broken up by a strobe light that reveals couples who dance, gyrate, and grope to the beat of thumping bass.

Sasha: When will Sir be here?

Salome: He has his own schedule; he comes as he chooses.

Salome reaches across to take Sasha’s hand, pulling her close and speaking into the other woman’s ear.

Salome: I’m sure he wants us to get acquainted with each other. (running her hand down Sasha’s arm) Do you like being scratched?

Sasha visibly shivers and nods. Salome slides her hand up Sasha’s body until she reaches the bare skin above the vest and blouse. Here she makes claws of her fingers and scrapes faint lines into Sasha’s white skin.

The two women become one of the entwined couples. They embrace and let their soft lips come together, tongues wet and seeking in the gentle, fierce, candy-flavored kiss. Their bodies are fluid in the flickering light, becoming a stop-motion film of arms grasping and hips pressing together to mate and mirror their sexes. They scratch. They bite. They pull at each others’ hair.

But the dark observer seated at the edge of the dance floor can see that the two women are not in battle. He smiles in anticipation.

Salome: He’s here.

A simple statement, but one loaded with emotion. Sasha freezes, ducks into Salome’s embrace and is led by her new friend to the dark observer’s table.

Sir: I see the two of you have gotten to know each other.

His voice is somewhat harsh, as if in disapproval, and both women shy away slightly. The big man laughs.

Sir: Don’t worry, sweethearts. I’m pleased with you.

The man is still in shadow and all that can be gleaned as he stands and reaches for Sasha is his size, at least 6 feet tall. Sir spins the girl and observes her costume, practically licking his lips. He pulls Sasha close and puts a finger under her chin to lift her gaze.

Sir: (softly) I’m pleased with you.

His face is revealed now. It is hard. Cruel. His nose has been broken more than once and his mouth is thin-lipped but he smiles with his eyes, which are a startling blue framed by his deep tan. He gives the smooth impression of a shark; he will hunt you down, he will eat you. And you will love it.

Sir: Well? What do you say when I compliment you?

His voice is teasing yet stern and the finger under her chin becomes a firm grip that forces Sasha’s lips to pout slightly and her breath to stop.

Sasha: Thank you, Sir?

A shark’s smile and a sudden rough kiss. Sir’s tongue violates Sasha’s mouth and his teeth bruise her lips.

***

Oh my god! A groan escapes from deep within me as my cunt clenches, grasping. Something inside me has burst and left me all fireworks and electricity inside.

I’m not a character any more and the only thing I’m pretending to be now is a woman who isn’t wrapping arms and legs around this man and riding him, right here. Oh my god.

I manage to keep myself still, open and pliable for his plundering kiss, as I know a good slave should be. I’m rewarded when Sir leans back and nods approvingly, dropping his hand from my chin only to shock me by palming my breast casually before turning away.

I turn my dazed eyes to Salome and giggle nervously as she winks at me. I squeeze her hand gratefully when she clasps mine.

Sir turns back to us and I see he has retrieved something from a bag I now notice on a nearby chair.

“Ready?” He is holding something made of leather and chain… my heart beats double time as I remember his gentle voice on the phone. Promising. Threatening. Offering a collar and a leash. More of those fireworks as I hear myself replying,

“Yes, Sir.” I don’t hear Salome’s voice but I know her answer.

The music in the club is muted, as if we are underwater, and it matches the overwhelming feeling that I am drowning. The passion is so heavy it is dragging at my skin and pulling me under. My grip on Salome’s hand begs for her calming presence and pulls her closer to me, and the boiling fear/lust/excitement inside becomes a manageable simmer.

I realize that I have missed instructions as Sir hands Salome a leather collar. She turns to me, and I mirror her movement only to have her gently take my shoulder and turn me away. Now I watch the dance floor and its writhing performers, the music returning to my consciousness. I feel the vibration of the pounding base between my legs.

Cool leather slides around my throat and I think I’m going to faint because oh god, it feels so good so slutty so dirty. I can’t hold back a low moan, can’t keep my neck from arching back to expose my throat, so Salome is laughing softly as she finishes fastening my collar.

Now it’s my turn to collar Salome and I seize the opportunity to stroke her neck and to lean in to sink my teeth into her skin, only to feel a sharp smack on my ass; I haven’t asked Sir for permission. Now that Sir is here there are rules and it doesn’t matter that Salome and I had been practically devouring each other on the dance floor moments earlier. I blush and apologize.

Salome looks gorgeous in her collar. She is tanned, and dark hair falls sharply above her green eyes, giving her a sleek and feline look. I want to hear her purr. I want to make her purr.

My attention snaps back to sir as he snaps his fingers. I can see he’s amused by my obvious crush on his sub, but he’s not going to let me be a brat. So, when he calls me to him his voice is rough,

“Come here!” I step forward and he impatiently grabs my arm and pulls me until I am standing flush with his body. “Pay attention!” His breath is on my ear as he leans in to chastise me. His voice his low but the way the words are ground out of his throat gives them the impact of a shout accompanied by a spanking. I’m so close to him that I can feel his chest heaving with each breath. He’s turned on.

“I’m sorry, Sir.” Our cheeks are a hair’s width from touching and I long for the feel of his cool cheek against my blushing one. A bit of the tension goes out of him and he is slightly more gentle this time as he manipulates my body, bringing my back to his front in preparation for receiving the leash.

I’m pressed up against his body and he is hard, his hips grinding his erection against the cleft of my ass through my skirt with no pretense. He’s the boss and he can bend me over and fuck me right here if he wants. I’m so turned on I could pass out, and the second I hear the faint metallic click of the leash latching on to my collar my whole body bows in reaction. My ass thrusts back against his hard-on, my chest juts to present my breast to anyone who will please touch them, and my head turns to rest my cheek against Sir’s chest.

Sir doesn’t seem to mind my reaction (which is lucky, since there was no stopping it). In fact, he sighs and rests his hands around my neck, holding me, stroking softly. He runs his palms down over my collarbones, across to my shoulders and, as I hold my breath in anticipation of his touch on my breasts, down my arms. I whimper a little in disappointment and he chuckles. He pushes me away and gives me a pat on the butt. I move to the end of my leash and watch as Salome is similarly shackled.

What happens next is a blur. Sir is dragging Salome and I behind him, leaving me no time to adjust to life on a leash. I stumble and grip Salome’s arm as we rush through the club to the beat of painful jerks on the leash. I feel angry and abused, but when I look over at Salome I see she is enjoying it, as though this is just honest fun worlds away from sexual thrills. She is practically giggling and I realize that this is like a child’s game of tug o’ war. A lovers’ game that is fun to lose.

I’m out of breath by the time we get outside and reach a conservative four-door sedan parked some distance down the street. Sir opens on of the rear doors and waves Salome and myself inside, smacking our asses as we crawl across the seat. He lets the leash drop to take his place in the driver’s seat, and it is what he does now that shocks me.

Without looking back at us, he opens his fly and takes out his cock. I feel saliva pooling in my mouth as I imagine sucking him off, but before I have time to break down and beg for that honour, he retrieves the leash and slides the leather around his cock, shuddering and sucking in his breath as he tightens the grip. In an obviously well-practiced motion Sir efficiently fastens the leather to stay tight on his shaft and casually fastens his seatbelt and guides the car away from the curb with two women hanging from his erection.

Again without looking back, Sir barks an order of which I register the words “touch”, “pussy” and “whores” before the car is flooded with the beat of heavy techno music. Now the back seat is a wet and searching place, a place for touching and for being touched.

My hand is up Salome’s skirt, in her panties and buried in her wet snatch as she gropes me just as franticly. Each thrust of my finger inside Salome matches the movement of her finger inside me and my brain is melting from this strange mirror-image fucking. I wriggle away from my lover’s hands, keeping my finger working on her clit while I push her down on the seat and start mauling her breast with my other hand. I gnaw at her neck and moan as I feel my neck strain against the leash and realize that I’m tugging on Sir’s cock. Oh god. I start to whimper as the ache in my pussy builds.

“My turn,” Salome whispers, and I find myself pressed gently back. I see Salome’s neck tugging at the leash as she rises above me and her eyes gleam in a way that tells me it is no accident. We both love being linked to that pulsing shaft. Salome reaches up my skirt and grabs my mound, squeezing, and I gasp at the slight pain then groan as she slides two fingers inside me. I’m so slick with excitement that the fingers move easily and I can hear the soft sucking sounds made by pussy as she fucks me. I’m embarrassed by the noises, but when I look up at Salome I see that her eyes are closed and she is licking her lips. She has her free hand on her own breast as she enjoys touching me.

It’s only when the car door opens and spills cool air over our bodies that I notice that the car has stopped moving. I roll my eyes back to see Sir, framed by black sky and a moonlit field. The music is still pumping from the speakers and I sense that we three are isolated enough that no one would hear me scream if things go wrong... or incredibly right.

Sir is stroking his cock and watching Salome’s hands on me. Seeing me gazing at him, Sir smiles tightly, sweat beading his brow, and groans,

“Which one of my slave girls wants to get fucked?” I yelp in desperate pleasure and hear Salome moan with similar sentiment, causing Sir to laugh breathlessly. “What desperate little sluts.” Suddenly he is gone from view and I hear the trunk of the car opening. I pull Salome down and thrust my tongue into her mouth for a short and brutal kiss. As she lifts her head I pull her hand from between my legs and watch her expressive face as I lick her fingers clean.

Movement behind me announces Sir’s return. He yanks the leash and pulls the two of us scrambling from the car and in a flurry of movement strips us. I follow the slow motion flight of a displaced button from my vest and catch sight of the blinking red light of a camcorder before I’m roughly pulled into position against the hood of the car. My front is pressing down on cold metal and my ass is thrust out in the cool night. Sir’s touch is gentle as he strokes my back and ass. I sense Salome close beside me and when Sir bends down to whisper I know his words are for us both.

“If my little whores want to get fucked, they have to show me how badly they want it.”

I’m panting and desperately searching a mind gone blank. Show him? My mind may be sluggish but my body is ready to react fluidly to his words, thrusting back at him. By instinct alone I lift my ass and spread my legs to feel the night air against the hot, swollen flesh there.

I imagine what I must look like in the viewfinder behind that blinking red light. Do I look like what I am? Does my round ass aim at the camera and reveal me as a bitch in heat in breathless competition with the slim body beside me? I reach across to take Salome’s hand seconds before the universe explodes.

Gasps. Moans. Flesh slapping flesh. Sir’s cock is in me, slamming against my insides, opening me… And just as quickly I am bereft of that heat and pressure. Salome’s whimper tells me where Sir has gone and I shiver at the knowledge that he has carried me along with him, that I have entered her on his cock. And soon Salome is inside me. Sir fucks us together, taking turns in each of our bodies, sliding freely on our passion. I’ve been taken over completely by these two, the slave and the Master both invading my sex, and my voice rings with my surrender as I scream my orgasm.

***

I wake up in a tangle of arms and legs, sore and stretched in every part of me. And no wonder; I've had only a few hours sleep after the longest marathon of sexual depravity I've ever participated in. But there is no time now to wallow in the liquid memories. I need to prepare for the final act.

Everyone knows the script for mornings after, and I politely ignore my lovers as they politely pretend to sleep. I close myself in their spacious bathroom to wash away smeared eyeliner, to comb my hair, and to soothe my abused flesh with a cold cloth. As I reassemble and transform last night’s costume I prepare myself for my new role as a respectable young woman about to commute to work and teach a Drama class.