I was a few years out of college when I found an interesting friend request pop up on my screen. It was my friend Rebecca’s Aunt Chelsea; I had not seen either of them in years, so it was quite unusual for her to find me. Rebecca didn’t speak to me much after college; in her mind, our foray into intimate relations was a brief excursion and one she decided we should not talk about ever again.

I honestly didn’t care; Rebecca was not the same person after that. She was always shy, but she seemed to cut me off and distance herself from me. She started dating some guy and basically became domesticated arm candy. I didn’t think she would be happy, but then again, I live my life how I want.

Chelsea didn’t speak to me for years either, but it’s not like we had each other’s contact information. When I saw the friend request from her I was intrigued. I thought that our friendship or perhaps more could grow from it. So, I gladly accepted and of course, helped myself through creeping at her posts and photos.

Although it had been a few years, her glorious blonde hair had not faded at all. In fact, she seemed to remain shapely in all respects. I found myself scrolling through many of her photographs, especially ones I discovered from her tropical vacations. I wondered if perhaps in the near future I would be able to see her wearing a bikini in person.

Chelsea messaged me a short time later, but it was more innocent than anything else. The questions were similar to the ones I’d get from older relatives about what was going on in my life and whatnot. Likewise, I didn’t bring up the sultry events of our first meeting, even though it was practically the only thing I could think of when I was typing. There were several occasions in which I typed out something, but I didn’t have the nerve to send it.

I’m having a dinner party for a few friends on Saturday, would you like to come? she asked in a message.

My stomach began to turn. I was absolutely elated with the prospect of seeing her again, but utterly frightened of the anxiety I might experience to try and hide my horniness at the dinner table. There’ll probably be drinks. I thought to myself before crafting my response.

That sounds great! See you then! I sent back with excitement.

The week dragged on. I found myself sitting at my desk at work and watching the analog clock hands slowly tick forward. Even at night I was lying in bed with my eyes wide open and stared at the dark ceiling. A dinner party wasn’t exactly the erotic sex-fest I was hoping for, but it would give me a chance to be social instead of a binge-watching hermit.

Saturday night I was sifting through my closet trying to find the right dress for the evening when the notification I set on my phone interrupted me. When that occurred, I realized I didn’t have enough time to waffle over decisions and just had to guess. I wasn’t sure if it would be on the side of fancy or informal, so I grabbed a modest navy-blue dress with a sleeve that kind of skirted the line between the two.

When I arrived at Chelsea’s house, I was pleasantly surprised with her attire when she answered the door. I would have not been alarmed if she was in some fancy dress or if she answered the door in sweats. My eyes were wide open as I gazed at what looked like some sort of dominatrix outfit.

I mean, I was kind of hoping for a little sexual tension or maybe even some concealed fooling around, but I wasn’t prepared for her to be wearing something so revealing or obviously sexual. Her top was relatively modest, a black turtleneck sweater that firmly held her beautiful breasts in place, but it was the rest of her ensemble that made me stare. She had a short black leather skirt, and leather boots, adorned with buckles, that went up to her knees.

“Had a good look?” She asked as she could easily tell I was checking her out.

“Um… yes, I mean, I’m surprised,” I responded in a haze of confusion and shock.

“Surprised I invited you to a party, and I’m wearing this?” She gestured to her get-up.

“Well, yes. I was expecting, well, a dinner party,” I answered as we walked inside.

“It’s a party for sure, and I figured I would serve dinner with everybody here,” she said walking down the hallway, with my eyes following her lovely blond hair as it swished across her shoulders.

“It’s like a Tupperware party but for sex toys. Mostly BDSM related implements,” she said without pause.

“So, you’re planning on taking my money then?” I joked as we entered the kitchen.

“Maybe, but I figured I could at least get you drunk and maybe have a little fun,” she laughed.

When we walked into the kitchen there were two other women standing around the counter island. They were both around Chelsea’s age with brown hair and reminded me of regular soccer moms.

“So fancy!” one of the women exclaimed as she saw my dress.

“Yeah, I uh thought it was a dinner party,” I stumbled to explain myself.

“Ha-ha, it’s okay, honey, we’ve all been there before,” she laughed taking a bite out of some crudité Chelsea had set out.

“So, you both were surprised Chelsea was having a sex toy party?” I asked.

“Pretty much, but we love her parties. It’s nice to see you didn’t run away when you saw this,” she said motioning to Chelsea.

“I’m Linda, by the way,” she introduced herself.

“Fiona,” I replied.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you. I hope you enjoy yourself tonight,” she remarked kindly.

“I’m Jane, it’s nice to meet you as well,” the other woman spoke up and introduced herself as well.

“Alright, ladies, shall we?” Chelsea asked as she led us into her living room.

The room was decorated nicely, with a comfortable sectional bookmarked with a couple of hardwood end tables. She had an array of various spanking implements lined up on the glass coffee table and my mind was filled with unlimited possibilities.

Chelsea gestured for us to take our seats and we sat down. She did not join us on the couch; instead, she pulled a wooden chair from her dining room and placed it across from the coffee table.

“Welcome to the party, ladies, I’ve got some new things for sale that you may be interested in. As always, I’m happy to let you test any of the implements,” Chelsea started with a mischievous smile.

“The first is this paddle here,” she picked up a small wooden paddle that was about a foot long. It was shaped like a heart at the end with some small holes drilled around the edge.

“Its heart shape allows a little extra surface that can cover multiple cheeks when striking and it has a few holes for some speed,” she continued and tapped her hand with the paddle.

“It looks cute, but I want to see you put it to the test,” Linda spoke up.

“Alright, put your money where your mouth is,” Jane laughed almost spilling her wine.

“Okay, looks like I’m up first,” Linda replied as she stood up and walked over toward Chelsea.

I was quiet at this point in the night. I’m usually pretty good at being an extrovert, but I was a bit nervous at the prospect of being spanked in such a public setting or to watch others just so nonchalantly.

“How do you want it?” Chelsea asked standing up next to Linda.

“Just over the chair, night’s still young,” Linda remarked as she remained mostly standing, grabbing the back of the chair and bending over slightly. Her butt was nicely squeezed into a modest pair of blue jeans and the fabric stretched as she bent over.

“You see, ladies,” Chelsea delivered a loud smack with the paddle.

“Even if I focus, say, on the right side,” giving Linda’s right cheek a decent whack. “It can reach a little bit on the left."

We nodded in agreement as we watched Chelsea spank Linda continuously, showing us that no matter which cheek she aimed for, she could land a blow on both.

Whap! Whack! Whap! She gave Linda a few more swats just for good measure.

“What about the power on that one?” Chelsea stopped and asked Linda.

“It’s alright. I’m sure I wouldn’t sit for a week if I let my husband use that one,” she laughed and rubbed her sore backside.

Linda stood back up and walked back over to the couch, squirming a little as she sat down again.

“What’cha got next?” Jane asked taking a rather large gulp of her wine.

“This one here is one that I have been a particular fan of as of late,” Chelsea remarked as she reached over toward a thin black leather strap.

“You see, it has some interesting studs on it that make for more fun,” she turned the strap over revealing a couple rows of metallic colored studs that looked like they could be extremely painful when applied.

“MMM… I’d like to try this one,” Jane said as she stood up and adjusted her skirt.

“Very well,” Chelsea answered as she stood up wielding the devilish device in her hands.

Jane walked over toward Chelsea and perched her bottom up as she bent over almost reaching her toes. Our dominatrix-like host then carefully slipped her fingers underneath Jane’s revealing skirt and flipped it up, showing a pair of white cotton panties.

“With this strap, you can adjust the power of your strokes by reversing the sides,” she started to speak.

Whack! Whack! Whack! She gave Jane a few blows with the plain side of the strap.

Jane flinched a little but was overall not much affected by the strap, like a woman who was quite accustomed to being spanked would.

“MMHMM,” she moaned with a pleasurable sigh.

“If your little spankee has been an even naughtier girl, you can flip it over and give her the studs,” Chelsea explained as she prepared the harsher end to blister Jane.

“ERP!” Jane yelped as the studded strap nailed her backside with sufficient force.

“And a couple more for good measure,” Chelsea laughed before strapping Jane a few more times.

“AH! EEP! OOOH! OWW! AH!” Jane shouted with each strike as it pounded against her plump behind.

She was released from captivity with a pink glow emanating from around the lines of her panties. Jane was scarcely able to seat herself again, but managed nonetheless. It had been a fair showing thus far, but I was anxious to get my turn or have a turn at Chelsea.