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Shard 120.2: Theater

Shard 120.2: Theater

She felt his tongue push the very first pearl between her pussy lips.

She waited on the bed, ready for their play to begin.

He took her hand. He said, “Do you remember our first date?”

“Of course,” she said. “How could I forget?”

He entwined his fingers with hers. “Did you know how nervous I was?”

“Kind of, yeah.”


“You were acting a little squirrelly.”

He said, “I often act a little squirrelly.”

“Even squirrellier than usual.” She smiled.

He laughed. Still holding her hand, he looped the restraint around her wrist and secured the buckle. “The restaurant we went to? Do you remember that?”

“Of course, my love.”

He secured the other end of the restraint to the bedpost. She shivered, expectant and aroused. He said, “How googly-eyed you were. You were like that emoji you love. You know, the kitty with the hearts for eyes?”


“You had hearts for eyes that night. Every time I held your hand.” He took hold of her other hand. He kissed it.

“And afterward? At your house? Do you remember that?”

“I will always remember that. What a special night.”

He encircled her delicate wrist with the leather strap, buckled it, fastened it to the other bedpost.

He straddled her now, his cock hard, inches above her face. “I have an idea for another special night.”

“I imagine you do. You are very good at special nights.”

“Thank you.”

He kissed his way down her body--her tits, her belly, her navel, her pussy, her legs--until he arrived at her feet. He took one in his hand. “I’d like to rent out the entire restaurant for us.” He kissed the arch of her foot. “The kitchen staff.” He kissed her big toe. “The wait staff.” Another toe. “Even a hostess.” Another toe. “I’d rent a limo for the night.” Her littlest toe. “Maybe for our anniversary of that date. Maybe we should do this for our first anniversary.”

“I will do whatever you like.”

“I know.” He placed the restraint around her ankle. “I love that about you.” He bound her foot to a bedpost at the end of the bed.

“I am going to ask you to wear several very specific things. A costume, we can call it. I will lay them out on your bed while you are at work.” He took her foot. “I’ll want you to wear that short little black dress I love.” Kissing the arch. “Thigh high stockings, the ones with the seams.” Big toe. “I want to be able to see the edge of your stockings when you bend over or cross your legs.” Another toe. “Heels. The red shoes with the heels. The ones that have that sexy/classy thing going on.” Another toe. “You know how I like it.” Another toe.

“Yes, I do.”

Her littlest toe and he secured her foot to the bedpost. He licked his way up her leg to her pussy. “Pearls. You will need to wear pearls. Do you know why?”

“Yes. I know why.”

“I know you do. Good girl.”

She purred.

He lifted himself so that he kneeled between her legs. “You’ll also be wearing your leash, and collar. We’ll have the valet park the car, and I will lead you from the car with your leash. It’s a short walk, only a few people will notice. Some will.”

At this point, she began to realize he was talking about their evening’s fantasy, not an actual anniversary of an actual marriage. It was as if he were describing the set of a stage, where tonight’s performance would take place. Curtains closed, actors putting on makeup, going over their lines. Lights being set, props being put into place.

“Are you comfortable with strangers seeing me lead you by a leash?”

“They are not my concern. Only you, my love.”

He said, “We’ll go inside. I’ll pull your chair out for you, scoot you into the table, then take my place at the other side of the table. Lay the handle of the leash down.”

“Such a gentleman.”

"But of course. The wait staff will consist of one man and one woman. They will both be very attractive. They will approach us. After a nod from me, they will kneel and bind your wrists behind the chair with a leather strip. I will order my meal. While we wait for it to be cooked, they will bring us a bottle of wine, a good one. Perhaps a pinot noir, the Domaine Loubejac you enjoy so much.”

“How will I drink it? With my wrists bring bound.”

“If you need a sip of wine, nod to one of the waiters, who will raise a glass to let you have a taste.” He took out the leash and collar from the end-table of their bed. The sound of the metal links rattling electrified her and heightened every sense.

“Remember, you will be wearing your collar. Do you understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“And what does that mean?”

That I am yours. That you own me. That you may use me as you feel fit.”

‘Good girl.” He gently wrapped the collar around her neck, secured it, and took the leash in hand. He straddled her waist.

“I will ask the wait staff to present themselves to you if they like, whenever they like. Do you understand?”

“I think so.”

“If the waiter presents his cock to you, you will suck it.”


“If he asks you to take him deeper into your throat you will take him deeper. Even if you gag on it. Even if it hurts. Do you understand?”


With one hand he held her by the leash, with the other he caressed her tits, first one, then the other. “If a waitress presents her tits to you, you will lick them. Suck on them.”

“Yes. I will suck her nipples.”

“While I watch.”

“While you watch.” As she said this she saw his cock harden and pulse. The image of a darkened stage again presented itself. Actors taking position. Stagehands readying the set.

“If she asks you to bite her nipples, what will you do?”

“Bite her nipples.”

He pinched her nipple. Her body jerked and she mewled. She couldn’t wait much longer.

He said, “Yes. Good girl. Perhaps she will bite your nipples.”

“Will you ask her?”

“I may. It is her choice, of course.” He pinched her nipple harder, twisting it. Her entire body corkscrewed in pleasure.

He pulled at her leash, lifting her head.

He said, “When my food arrives, the waiters will depart. It will be just you and I. I will dine. While I eat I will watch you. We both know you will be wet by then. I’ll be able to smell it. The staff, the hostess, the cook will probably all be able to smell it.”

“And when you are done eating?’

He continued to pet and pull on her nipples as he talked. “Then I will lead you by the leash back to the car. Again, people may see, they may not, I don’t care.”

“Nor do I,” she said.

“I will drive you home. I will sit you at the table. Your wrists will not be bound. I will cook you a meal. Whatever you like. Your choice. I will serve it to you. I will wait on you as you dine. I will be your host, your waiter, your cook.”

“My everything.”

“As you are my everything.”

“And what will you do when I am done?”

“When you are done with your feast? I will undress you. Slip you out of that sexy dress. Stroke your smooth, stocking-clad legs. Unbuckle and take off your shoes. I will lead you to the bed by your leash. Lay you down. The last thing I will do is take off your pearls.”

He reached down, reached behind her slender white neck, unfastened the clasp. He held the string of pearls in his hand. He dipped them into her mouth; she sucked on them hungrily. He pulled them back out, letting them linger on the tip of her outstretched tongue.

He slid back on the bed, tracing a wet line down the woman’s body with the pearls as he did so. He took his place between her legs.

“When you are done with your feast, I will feast on you,” he said.

She felt his tongue push the very first pearl between her pussy lips. She sighed with pleasure and fevered anticipation. That image of a theater flashed again in her mind: the house lights going down, the audience falling to a hush, the curtain opening, the lights coming up on the stage, the performance ready to begin.


The Shard series is a collection of flash fiction pieces that focus on short scenes from the experiences, memories, fantasies and dreams of the narrator. Think of them as shards of a broken mirror.





This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

Copyright © 2018 Verbal P. Incandenza | Yeah, not my real name, but I still wrote this. Be cool. Please don't steal it.

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