Four Rules at the Party - Mild BDSM/Humiliation - little actual sex | 2016

Cynthia and I were getting ready for the party. Nothing fancy, nothing naughty. A large party at a friends house. Mostly close friends.

She had already satisfied me when I got home from work, but I had hinted, that I had more planned.

"You have two rules and two tasks tonight," I said.

"Really sir," she said, "I'm all ears." Her tone was sarcastic, but I knew her better, just the idea of rules, in public likely had her wet.

I went over to her, stood behind her, wrapped my hands around her, kissed her neck and slid my fingers into the front of her panties. I laughed.

"I just wondered how wet the idea would have gotten you," I said and went back to getting ready.

"It wasn't that," she said, her tone still a bit silly, "I was thinking about Hugh Jackman. So whats the deal with tonight."

"First," I said, "you can't use any words with more than six letters at the party."

"Easy," she said and I gave her a look. Cynthia was a very smart woman studying very complicated things. Many of the people we would be meeting were mensa types.

"Second," I said, "Any time you fuck up, you have to take off something you are wearing."

That gave her pause and I grinned at her. "Better dress heavy," I said. "Also, I want you to bring the blue butt plug," it was a medium size for her, "and at some point at the party, I expect you to put it in and you can't do so outside or in the bathroom."

She gave me a fish gape look. "So you want me to wear extra clothes so I can remove them and at the same time dress loosely enough that I can sneak a butt plug in?"

I stopped and counted for a moment, "Lucky we aren't at the party yet, or you would have failed twice. Yes and finally, at some point you are going to have to prove to me that the plug is in."

She ended up wearing loose fitting pants, a jacket, socks and quite a large amount of jewelry.

The night went fast, the drinks flowed freely and I watched as my intellectual slave fought to only use small words. It sounds easy, but its so easy to add a suffix to a small word to make it longer by accident.

Throughout the night she seemed off. She spoke haltingly, pausing often and sometimes speaking in ways that simply sounded ridiculous. Her first slip up was a name. She introduced a friend named Suzanne. I gave her a look and she responded with a "proper names shouldn't count look" but still, a bracelet came off.

Over the next hour I saw two amusing things. First, bracelets and rings kept slowly finding their way into her purse. Second, she kept looking around, clearly trying to find somewhere private. She never let her purse out of her hand.

She drank too much and I knew she was tempting fate. She loved this sort of thing. By 10 pm or so I noticed that all of her jewelry was gone. I was in another room, not even paying attention to her. Cynthia was a good slave and I never worried about her lying or sneaking.

I was talking to a few friends in a side room and I hadn't seen Cynthia for over an hour. She had been off with one of her friends talking weddings and girl stuff.

Suddenly, she walked in, not wearing her jacket, and gave me a big hug, while doing so she slid her hand into my pocket and put something there.

I reached in when she was done and felt her panties.

She didn't speak at all for the rest of her night. She was down to nothing but her pants, her shirt and her bra and the shirt was too tight for her to risk taking the bra off. She just stayed by me, acted tipsy and kept her mouth shut besides simple one syllable words.

A few of us ended up on the couch and she sat on my lap. She started trying to nonchalantly grind her ass into me and after a moment I realized I could feel the buttplug set into her ass, a hardish plastic, at least harder than her ass, pushing into my thigh.

"Holy shit," I whispered, "how did you pull that off."

She leaned over to me and her voice was slurred slightly from the alcohol. "Laundry room, I was so horny it was quick and easy."

She leaned back against me, clearly a bit drunk and content with having completed her task and made her master happy. It was a good moment for her. She loved serving and doing well. Her love of bdsm was in service, not in punishment and nothing made her feel happier than thinking she had served me well.

Then I whispered, "Laundry has seven letters."

She gave me a panicked look and I knew that she'd likely safe word before actively looking like a slut in front of our non-kinky friends and that safe wording would make her feel like a failure.

I took pity and whispered "I figure the plug counts as a piece of clothing, you are wearing it after all."

She gasped for breath and smiled.

"But you are going to owe me," I said and gave her the most sadistic smile I could manage.

She scurried off, took the plug out somewhere and we left afterwards. I made her put it back in on the way home and she slid her hand into my zipper and had me at orgasm before we were half the way home.