The Party, part 1

Alright, this is a blog about fantasies. I don't think this is one of my best stories but there are a lot of things from fantasies in it. I thought I would try to be a little less held back and just write and try to overcome my prudishness and be a little vulgar. Don't expect too much orgies, though! Remember it is a very prudish person writing this!

Don't worry, the second part is already written so you don't have to wait months for it.

I was standing in the kitchen adding the finishing touches to the sauce that was to be served with the roast. I had everything under control. I had worked all day preparing for the party. Some of his, our, best friends were coming to visit and he wanted it to be perfect. I had cleaned the house, shopped for all the food and I had spent hours in the kitchen preparing. I had planned it well so I had time to slip into the shower and make myself presentable.

I was part of the party in his mind and I had to be clean and sparkling like the furniture. I spent a good hour in the bathroom, showering and preening myself, making myself look the best. I had donned my best dress, a black, very clinging thing, shorter than made me feel comfortable. The kind of dress that showed off every curve, every little part of my body, the kind you had to wear string knickers to. I had no bra and was concerned that my nipples would be on full display whenever they decided they had to stand to attention.

I was in full control of the situation, still my heart beat a double beat when I heard him open the door. I greeted him in the hallway and he looked pleased with me. I told him about all my preparations and he smiled approvingly. I loved that smile. I needed that smile.

He went into to the bathroom and had a shower. There was still time for that. I hummed a tune while I was checking everything for the dinner. The wine was there, the cutlery was there, the food was prepared or ready to be cooked. Everything was in order. I liked it to be like that. He liked it that way. I knew he would show me if he was displeased with anything.

When there was just some fifteen to ten minutes before the guests were to arrive he came into the kitchen. He was dressed in a shining white shirt and looked ever so smart. I gave him a kiss. He deserved it. I wanted him to know how gorgeous I found him.

Then he turned to me and said:

'Guest will soon be here, you'd better go change!'

'I thought I would take this dress.'

'No, I have changed my mind. Put on the Girdle and the ankle chain and the big bangle!'

I gave him a look. My heart was beating faster.

'If not the dress to that, what then?'

I anticipated the answer but I wanted him to say it. I didn't want to get such a thing wrong.

'Nothing,' he said, and smiled, 'nothing at all.'

'Knickers?'

'When I say nothing, I mean nothing.'

'But the Warwicks don't know us that well.'

'They know me.'

'They don't know me.'

'Go now!'

I sighed and went into the bedroom. I quickly stripped off the dress, the dress I had found to be too revealing, to exposing. How I missed it now that it lay on the bed. I kept my knickers on while I put on the bangle on my left wrist and the ankle chain on my right. The Girdle was a girdle in the ancient meaning of the word, really a kind of belt consisting of a gilded chain with golden disks, half an inch wide, some two inches in between. I wore it on my hips or, rather below my hips.

I always thought it made me look like some Egyptian dancer or the like. It was something very exotic and strange about wearing a chain low on your hips like that.

The moment of truth had come. He had said 'nothing' and he meant 'nothing.' I took a deep breath and slipped the knickers from me. I felt bereaved as they slipped down my thighs and left me naked. The Girdle and the bangle and the ankle chain didn't cover me. I was in all aspects naked, stark naked. And the guest would soon be here.

'Hurry up!' he shouted and I hurried from the bedroom.

'Marvellous,' he said smiling, 'they will be here any minute now. Just one thing to attend to.'

I saw that he was holding the riding crop in his hand.

'What have I done?' I gasped hearing the panic in my voice.

'Questioning my judgement.'

'You can't think it strange that I wonder.'

'Don't argue now, we don't have time for that. Lean over!'

Leaning over meant me standing with me hands on my knees, sticking my bottom out. It was the quickest and easiest punishment position.

I took my position and braced myself for the whip. I wished it wouldn't be too bad. I wasn't prepared for it. I wasn't sure I could cope with it.

The horsewhip was bad. It was harsh, designed to sting through the thick hide of a horse. Now it was going to be used on my sensitive skin, on my exposed bottom. And the marks would be fresh and visible as the guests arrived.

I almost cried out as the first blow hit me across the buttocks. I wasn't prepared for the pain. How could you prepare for something like that?

The second blow had me struggling to keep my hands on my knees. I knew that letting go meant more whipping, immediately or later.

I was given eight in all and I had tears in my eyes as he was done. But I had manage to take it without letting go of my knees. I was proud.

My bottom was still smarting as the doorbell rang. I knew I had to answer it. I was still flustered and affected when I rushed into the hallway. The good thing with the quick whipping was that I didn't have time to fret about being naked as I went to answer the door.

Meeting the Warwicks in the door, who were dressed in very smart clothes, taking their coats, brought home to me with all too much clarity how naked I was. The man smiled broadly and let his gaze linger on me. I assessed me, let his eyes stay on my bosom, taking in the fact that my nipples were standing to attention. He then let his gaze sweep over my body and I saw his eyebrows rise, just a little as he realised I was naked, completely naked.

I blushed as I was assessed this openly. Mrs Warwick was an auburn woman, good looking and dressed in a knee long, satin dress. How I had wished I could have been allowed something like that.

She was beautiful and she looked happy as she saw my nudity. Something glimmered in her eyes as she looked me over and tried to decide if I was more or less beautiful than she was. She smiled, so I assume she thought me less worthy. She gave her husband a worried look, however, and that pleased me somewhat.

My husband came out in the hallway and greeted the guests.

'Welcome, good to see you again. Say hi to my wife.'

Mr Warwick gave him a strange gaze and my husband nodded.

'It is allowed,' he said.

Mr Warwick then turned to me, put his left hand on my right breast, kneaded it, felt my hard nipple in his palm before he let his hand slip to my shoulder. He leaned forward and kissed my cheek and I gasped as I felt his right hand touch my sex, stay there for a second and then quickly slip into me.

I held my breath as his fingers quickly moved inside me and then, as causally as they had entered withdrew. He smiled at me and then turned to his wife.

'say hi to Kate you too!'

Mrs Warwick leaned forward and touched her cheek to my cheek while she too slipped her fingers into my sex. I gasped again as her quite cold fingers slipped in and out of me.

My husband looked a little annoyed and I knew that my gasping and showing surprise at the unexpected intrusions didn't please him.

'My wife doesn't show my guests the proper respect they deserve. I can whip her if it pleases you.'

He then looked at me.

'Please forgive me for being disrespectful,' I said and curtsied.

'Don't worry dear,' Mr Warwick said.

'No need to whip her more,' he continued, turning to my husband, 'I can see she has already displeased you.'

I saw an expression of disappointment flicker through the face of Mrs Warwick. I was sure she would have enjoyed seeing me get the whip.

I showed the Warwicks into the living room and offered them something to drink. They smiled and accepted a glass of port.

Two more coupled arrived, the Collins and the Jones. All of them greeted me the same way but now I was prepared and endured the touch without giving any sounds of distress.

However prepared I was, I couldn't avoid the strange and unwelcome sensation of arousal that already Mr Warwick had evoked with his touch and each consecutive intrusion only added to the heat and ache I experienced.

As I walked among the seated guests, offering port and other refreshments I knew I was flustered and I knew my nipples were erect and I felt their eyes upon my body.

The men seemed pleased with my nudity and seemed to find some satisfaction in letting their eyes linger on my exposed body as I moved among them. Their eyes burned me and I knew myself beheld. But it has to be admitted that this kind of attention was in all its humiliation also a source of some pride. Their smiles told me that my appearance was pleasing to them.

The women, however, seemed to enjoy my nudity for completely different reasons. Their expressions spoke of a satisfaction that seemed to stem from the humiliation they imagined I must experience. They looked at my face, tried to assess my reactions and when I blushed or showed signs of being ashamed they seemed pleased and satisfied.

The women also looked at my body and I imagined they wondered how they compared to me, smiling when they realised their bosom was bigger and seemed displeased if they thought that my frame was more slender or the like.

Dinner came and the guests sat down to eat. I served the appetiser and watched them eat. I then served the soup and then I was allowed to sit down to eat myself. I was not allowed at the table but had to kneel on the floor by a sideboard.

I had hardly time to kneel down before I had to rush up to fetch this or that or arrange for something other.

Soon it was time for the main course, the roast and I served that too. I cut the roast and put the meat on the plates and I had to lean in over the table, my naked body brushing against their clothes, my breasts hanging close to the table, being vulnerable to their touches should any of them desire that.

I wasn't spared. Many of them couldn't resist the temptation to pinch my nipple as it came close and more than once I felt a hand slide up between my thighs from behind. I got many a slap on my buttocks as I moved between the guests and my fresh whip marks never ceased to amaze them.

All this attention, all this focus on my naked body, and the fact that I was different, naked and the servant, the one who had no right to be respected only heightened my sense of vulnerability and made me more and more aroused. I wanted desperately to suppress this reaction, feeling that my nudity was enough exposure for the moment. I didn't want to offer them my arousal too. I was too shy for that.

Dinner was over and I cleared the table as the guests sat down in sofas and armchairs. As soon as I was done with the table I had to serve tea and biscuits and sherry and whisky.

As they all had been supplied with something to munch on and something to drink I was ordered to kneel on the floor among them.

The order was given by my husband without a sound. He just pointed to the floor and I knew I should kneel. He pointed with two fingers that he suddenly parted. I blushed as I understood the order. It meant I was to kneel with my knees apart.

I had never done that before, except with my husband, never among others. There was no disobeying so I turned to the guests, fell to my knees and obediently opened my thighs as I sat down.

I knew I had to do it properly and no modesty was allowed so I did my best to open up my knees real wide. Suddenly I sat there, on my knees, my sex wide open and exposed, facing the guests.

I think that sitting down among them, still naked, and with knees apart made me fully aware of how utterly naked and exposed I was.

As appropriate for this kind of kneeling, I pushed my breasts forward, straightened my back and let my hands hang loosely by my sides. I felt how my breasts were heaving, my nipples were hard and how my open and exposed sex was aching. In all this serving and shame and naked humiliation I could not deny that my body was reacting to all that happened around me. And sitting down after rushing around gave me time to think about it and experience all the mixed emotions.

'Do you whip her often?' Mr Jones asked.

'Yes,' my husband replied, 'she needs to be shown her place, quite regularly.'

'What do you use on her?' Mr Collins wondered.

'The horsewhip, the belt and the fish slice. Anything, really, that can be used on her.'

'I like to use the cane on my dear Elaine,' said Mr Warwick.

I saw how his wife, suddenly blushed.

'Isn't that so, my love?'

'Yes, that is true,' Mrs Warwick had to admit.

'I have found something interesting,' Mr Jones, said, 'I find it interesting that my Claire seems to be happier and more cheerful when I have whipped her. And more so when I have whipped her good. It is almost as if the harder I whip her the calmer and more content she becomes.'

'I have noticed that too,' Mr Warwick admitted, 'my Elaine seems happier when I use the cane on her, than when I just smack her with the hairbrush.'

'Kate is like that too,' my husband said, 'and I have found that she needs a real good thrashing now and then, the kind that makes her cry.'

I blushed as I heard him talk about me like that.

'What do you say, Eric,' Mr Warwick asked.

Mr Collins seemed a little confused.

'I haven't been married to my Sarah, that long. I haven't noticed that, really.'

'It will come,' my husband said.

'In fact,' Mr Collins said, 'Sarah is in for a spanking when we get home. She was late to work this morning. Can't have it like that. Any suggestions?'

'So many ways of punishing a woman,' my husband said looking quite pleased with himself, 'but late to work is serious so nothing too easy. The martinet perhaps.'

'Yes, the martinet is good,' said Mr Warwick, 'that will get her attention.'

'The martinet or the horsewhip,' Mr Jones said.

I shuddered at the mentioning of the horsewhip and my eight lashes earlier started to burn on my skin.

'The martinet sounds good,' replied Mr Collins, 'that is good. What do you say, Sarah?

He turned to his wife, a cute blond woman with her hair in a ponytail, dressed in a light summer dress. She blushed and lowered her gaze.

'I think it is good,' she mumbled.

'If you want you could do it now,' my husband said, that will cheer us all up.

'That is a brilliant idea!' exclaimed Mr Warwick.

Mr Jones nodded.

'Why not?' said Mr Collins and smiled with relief. 'What do you say, Sarah?'

'It is not for me to say,' she whispered, her cheeks red with embarrassment.

'Good reply,' said my husband, 'but you should get rid of that habit of asking her. Get used to just telling her.'

'I'll do it!' Mr Collins said, 'do you have a martinet?'

'Sure I have! Kate, go and get the martinet.'

'Which one, Sir?'

'The blue one.'

I rose to my feet and hurried to the cupboard where we kept all the instruments for my discipline and got the blue martinet. It was the more vicious one, the one that would hurt the most.

I knelt again, spread my knees, straightened my back, pushed my breasts forward, bowed my head and presented the martinet to Mr Collins. He took it with an expression of delight and surprise.

I glanced at his wife and saw her face turn white. She stared at her husband and the martinet in his hand.