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Another few inches, and she was spread wider. By now her heart was thumping loudly. The finger moved from her mound where it had been resting and tipped over the brink, touching her between her legs. Casey gasped and slid up the table a fraction.
“You like being touched here?” asked a soft voice.
“Yes… sir,” she replied cautiously.
“How much?” he asked. “What do you need, Casey?”
Casey tilted her head back and groaned. His finger was making small circular movements. “I… Don’t… I…” She was uncertain how to proceed.
There was another finger, another different solitary explorer. This one touched a nipple—a left pert, engorging nipple. The finger flicked the nipple slightly, back and forth, as if it were a delicate switch.
“Oh!” she moaned.
“I’m waiting for an answer,” reminded the man whose finger was between her legs.
Her mind was unravelling. Somewhere was an answer to his question. A definite need to be fulfilled, and as the finger moved faster and harder, she was struggling to articulate her thoughts.
“I need… something…” she said, unsure. Then she spoke clearly, “I need more, sir. Please, sir.”
“You do, don’t you,” said the man by her breasts. “This body is greedy, isn’t it?”
“Very, sir,” she confessed, and she was starting to writhe about on the table. “I’m a greedy girl.”
“Still, Casey,” reminded Rob. So far he had not touched her, and she was desperate for his touch. “Would you like to suck something?”
“Oh please, yes, sir!” she said quickly.
“I bet you would,” said the man between her legs. “Because you are showing me. Your wetness is telling me everything.”
“What are you, Casey?” asked the other man.
“I…” She shook as the finger began to move towards her slit. “Oh my…” Her voice was stopped by something in her mouth. A finger. A third solitary finger. She tasted it, and the skin had a familiar flavour to it. It was Rob’s finger, and he rested it in her mouth.
“You wanted to suck, so suck,” he commanded.
Both nipples were being played with as she sucked on his finger. A flicker, a pinch or a twist of her nipple and below, between her legs, another digit was inside sliding around in and out.
Casey could not keep still. Her back arched, and her arms reached to the side and grasped the edge of the table.
“See, gentlemen, a finger puppet,” said Rob. “I told you she would move as we wished. Let’s make her dance, shall we?”
It was the finger circling her clitoris which would be Casey’s downfall. She knew it was the one she was least likely to resist. The man whose hand it was attached to had a perfect technique for spurring on her arousal. A rotation about her, then a little pressure above by the pubic bone, and back round again. She tried to knock her knees together. However, to add to the humiliation, the mysterious man must have leant over between her separated feet to prevent her legs meeting. His body formed a barrier, and he made a sturdy, immovable statue. Suddenly she felt like she was on a doctor’s examination table, laid open and vulnerable. She nearly bit down on Rob’s finger as she pictured the erotic image.
The nipple flicker had gone back to targeting her right breast, and he was pinching harder. Far from destroying her arousal, his persistence added to the excitement building across her sexual body. She wanted to move, to relieve the tender throbbing in her clitoris and the soreness in her tormented nipple. What anchored her to the table was Rob’s finger, although not deep in her mouth, it enabled her to cling on and not lose faith in her puppet masters.
Who were these strangers? They had gone remarkably silent. She wished she could see and hear them. Were they laughing at her? Did they simply see her as a willing object for their entertainment? A hand tugged on her hair, pulling her head back down. Casey had not been aware how much she had been moving, sliding and slipping about. The smooth, excessively polished surface of the table had become an ice rink, and she was now dancing across the surface. Her bottom jived about as the swirling finger went harder, faster, and the one inside began to thrust rhythmically. Both nipples were being tweaked and twisted, stretched upwards, and she envisaged them as little pyramids on her chest. All she could do was suck on Rob’s finger as if it was a calming pacifier and hang on to the edge of the table with cramping fingers.
There were chuckles. Deep masculine vocal signs of amusement—not the titters of the silly, bitchy women with whom she had once worked; they had often enjoyed a laugh at her expense. Behind her blindfold, it came back to her in an overwhelming flood of euphoric emotion. Her fantasy, the one of being used by others, being the centre of their attention—it had come true. She could not halt the orgasm now. Whether she had permission or not, she could no longer dance for them. A selfish need had arisen, and it had to be resolved. The muscles in her legs went rigid, her buttocks clenched, and her mouth groaned about Rob’s finger. He held her by the hair and whipped out his finger to protect himself from her gritted teeth. Her legs thrashed about as she came, and she accompanied her magnificent orgasm with the uninhibited, lewd declaration, “I’m a greedy slut!”
Spread-eagled and satiated, she lay on the table, too exhausted to wonder what would happen next. The
fingers had gone but the tenderness remained. Slinking back into her thoughts was the mortification at what had been played out in the dining room. Men—strangers—using her for sexual pleasure, observing her orgasm, and witnessing her helplessness.
Without warning, they flipped her over and gave her several sharp slaps on the thighs and buttocks. She jolted, winced with surprise, and found their actions woke her from her self-conscious trance. Another little fantasy was being enacted: being spanked by strangers. If it was painful, she did not notice; it was a thrilling whimsy to indulge in while it lasted. Whichever direction she tried to angle her bottom, somebody would slap it, and she must have looked a sight, wriggling her backside about while hollering into the surface of the table. She was sure they were smirking at her.
“Quite a dancer,” said one of the men chuckling. “I’ve heard of pole dancing, but table sliding?”
Rob was pleased. His guests were very complimentary as they said their farewells. Even though she had not kept still, he told her she had done well. After they had left the room, she was able to remove her blindfold and was told to wait for him in the bedroom. She had liked the sound of his request, but it had seemed ages before he joined her. Just the two of them and no mysterious visitors.
