Mistress took me to a play party that Saturday. I was still a bit too sore from the other day, so she would not test me in front of others. Not that I would mind, I enjoy knowing all eyes are on me, even when my skin burns and my body shakes with pain. But the fact is that after hard use, even the most dedicated submissive needs time to recuperate. And I did, though I very much wished it otherwise. 

The play party was held in the basement of a suburban home, modern, airy and large, with a tall basement fully furnished, and a well-constructed dungeon. They even had theater seating, well-padded, but with some depth between rows because at a play party not all of the action is on the stage. 

Mistress Salome stroked my hair as I leaned my head against her shoulder, cuddling in close. I was dressed like a college girl, a short summer dress and no stockings thanks to the heat. Mistress wore a strapless dress, with a short, slit skirt that showed much of her dancer's thighs. She said nothing as I ran my fingertips slowly up and down Her bare thigh, and her right hand lazily stroking my legs about the knee, in slow semi-circles. 

On Stage was Mistress Marsha and her slave/husband Paul. They were both middle-aged, she a zaftig brunette with enormous breasts contained in a tight, low-cut latex dress. And a harness with a realistic-looking large black phallus that promised tonight might prove very interesting for everyone. Paul wore chaps and little else. He was bent to a bench, his hips off the edge, eyes forward as she thatched his skin with her flogger. Her pace was steady but substantial and the steady smack of soft leather on flesh was had me hypnotized. Our eyes watched carefully as his pale accountant's skin turned and pink and then bright red. His body bounced but his cock stuck straight outward, thick, rigid, and leaking from the pleasure of his beating. 

“Would you like to taste him, Mine,” Salome teased me, running her fingertips up under my skirt, mere millimeters from my lacy panties. Mistress knew I had been with men before I met Her. 

“I'd rather taste You, Mistress,” I replied.

“Of course you would,” she said with a smile and a squeeze to the flesh on either side of my pussy, making me catch in my breath. Mistress knows how to torment Her property in the most delicious ways. 

But She released me so we could concentrate on the stage, and even at Her side hard not to avoid the way his pink balls bounced with every strike, hard to avoid his moans and his arousal. And harder still when she went to the table for the lubricant and poured out dollops of slippery gel upon his backside.

“That's a big she-cock,” Salome whispered in my ear. “Do you think you could take it in your bottom?” Then she ran her tongue around my ear to emphasize the point. I wiggled and felt fear as it occurred to me that Mistress might very well one day ask that of me. Maybe today. It was perhaps too soon to spank me, but fucking and spanking are entirely different matters. But she focussed my eyes on int, making me concentrated as Mistress Marsha coated the shaft with shiny, slippery fluid and then stepped behind her husband to take aim.

She was gentle, taking her time, working her way into Paul's bottom. “He's done this before,” Mistress said, with a wink in Her eye. “I should plug you more, help you get ready.” And She said it loud enough for our neighbors to hear. 

I blushed deeply, considering it. I had worn a plug before. I wore a small one the night I met Mistress Salome, out dancing with my friends when ended up talking to the most beautiful woman in the room. And a few hours later, beneath Her.

Paul groaned as the big shaft slid slowly in his backside, distending it. I imagined he was in great pain, but if the stimulus is right, pain is pleasure, and while the pain showed in his face, so did his joy at being taken by his Mistress. Mistress Marsha was careful with him, slow in, fast out, letting him slowly build-up and his ass accustom to the big shaft. I watched her and imagined my Mistress taking me that way, slow in, fast out, slow in, fast out. I knew it would not be long until I was leaking. 

For I was wet now and knew it. I could hear Salome at my side, breathing deeply, Her chest rising and falling, mouth open and lips open, eyes totally focussed on the stage. 

“Worship,” she commanded, hand now pushing me down upon the floor. 

Soft carpet comfort covered my knees as Mistress lifted her skirt to show me her pussy, contained only in lacy sheer panties, lips poking into the sheer flesh. I leaned forward and Her hands mashed my head where She needed me. 

And as the man on the stage, moaned deeply in time with each and every thrust into his bottom, my Mistress moaned softly as my tongue glided across Her pantied pussy. Through the fabric, I gathered my first taste of the night, my true Reward.