Opera

Pre-Show

I hear your knock on the door and draw my breath excitedly, crossing the room quickly and inviting you in. You take me in—the long black dress you had specified, cut low enough to give the slightest hint at cleavage, high heels giving me a couple extra inches.  You smile at me, still not having said a word, clasping my wrists in both your hands and sliding them up the wall so they are over my head. Using one of your hands, you pin both of my wrists above me, pushing your body against mine and into the wall. Kissing me deeply and exploring my body with your free hand, you feel me gasp and tremble softly as you pinch my nipples gently through the fine fabric of the dress.

You let go of my hands. ‘Good evening. Now, kindly take off your dress, my dear.’

I smile timidly at you and slip the straps over my shoulders, pulling the dress down and exposing my body.  Bending down to pick up the dress and drape it over a chair, I’m clad only in my bra, panties, stockings, suspender belt, and heels.

You reach into the bag you’ve brought with you and pull out a permanent marker as you see a grin break out onto my face. You move close to me and ask ‘Now, how low does that dress fall here?’ as you stroke your finger across my breasts.

‘Right around here, Sir’ I say shyly as I take your finger and draw it back across.

You begin writing on me, along the edge of where I’ve shown you. I know I’ll have to be mindful of how the dress is falling in order to not flash the lurid marks of ‘cunt’ and ‘slut’ and ‘fucktoy’ emblazoned across my chest. You repeat the same process on my back—again asking me to note where the low backed dress fell. You write a couple final phrases on my upper thighs.

‘Perfect,’ you say with a smile as you take in my newly decorated body, ‘Now as you’re looking so pretty, let’s put you to use.’ You pull out your cock, pushing me gently to me knees, ‘Careful with my trousers or I’ll shoot my load all over that slutty little face of yours and take you to the opera like that.’ I promise you I will be and enthusiastically begin sucking you, throating you carefully, teasing the head of your cock with my tongue, and cupping your balls while looking up into your eyes. You let me go at my own pace, so as to not leave my hair and makeup disheveled. I begin working your cock faster and using my hand, bringing you to orgasm and shooting it straight into my mouth, where I hold it on my tongue until you’ve told me swallow.

You bring me my dress and kiss me gently, telling me I’m a good girl and that it’s time to get dressed again. I slip back into my dress and you ask whether I’ve remembered to pack the toys you asked me to bring. I pick up my small clutch and assure you that I have.

Taxi

We leave the hotel and hail a taxi, your hand guiding me, in the small of my back. You open my door, closing it behind me and entering the taxi from the other side, giving the driver instructions in French. As soon as we’re driving you quietly instruct, ‘Pull your dress up so that the writing is showing.’ I immediately flush at the instruction but acquiesce, pulling up my dress to expose ‘Salope,’ ‘Chienne,’ and ‘Pute’ written largely and legibly on my thighs. I realize why you wrote in French as I see the driver adjust his mirror and look in surprise back at us.

You put your hand between my thighs, stroking them, before lightly drawing your fingers over my panties taking care to avoid my clit but stimulating my cunt tantalisingly.  I forget the driver and melt into your touch. You dip your finger lightly under my panties and are surprised at how wet I am from this and from sucking you earlier. You lick your finger, tasting me, before telling me quietly to open my mouth as you stick it down my throat gagging me. I try to be quiet as my eyes flick to the driver as he laughs softly at my obvious humiliation, at the control you have over me.

You pull me to you, kissing me deeply—the taste of my cunt on both our tongues. As we approach the opera, you pull my dress back down. Tipping the driver generously for his discretion, you help me out of the car and lead me up the stairs and into the opera.

First Act

You guide me in, with your hand still in the small of my back. We check our coats and you lead me up quickly to our private box, champagne already laid out on the table. Pouring me a glass, we chink flutes, and smile happily at one another before you pull me in for a long, deep kiss. You tell me to sit down, my mouth stretched in a wide grin as I absorb the beauty of the opera house. The hall is still illuminated which causes a flutter of panic as I wonder what you’re planning while we’re so exposed.

However, you’re gentle—stroking my back, kissing my neck, lightly dancing your fingers around the edges of my dress, and exposing the writing. You tilt my face up to yours and kiss me softly, trailing kisses up my cheek and over my eyelids. We continue this soft, erotic exploration of one another until the lights dim—catching us both off guard at the thought of the intimacy our fellow audience members might have witnessed.

The hall darkens as the stage is lit and our box is enveloped in anonymity. As the first notes are sounded, you whisper in my ear, ‘Keep your eyes on the stage.’ I feel you pull my dress down underneath my bra and then expose my breasts. Full and heavy, you cup them in your hands, rolling your fingers over my nipples, and smiling at my sharp intake of breath. You check that I’m still watching the stage and continue playing with me. You alternate your touch—stroking me gently as the music fades and pinching me roughly when the music swells.

My eyes are still fixated on the stage but you notice my breathing has deepened and my hand is beginning to wander into your lap. ‘Not yet, pet,’ you say smiling, ‘Pass me your bag.’ I hand you my clutch and you pull out two of the items. I glance down at your hands and you tug on my nipple hard, reprimanding me, ‘Eyes on the stage.’ I fix my eyes back onto the stage and feel you attach the nipple clamps onto my breasts. You tug lightly on the chain and appreciate the small squirm and the wide smile on my face.

Next, you gently press my wrists together in my lap and wrap a silky red ribbon around them tightly, tying it in a bow. ‘Remember not to touch without permission, slut. Make sure you’re quiet now, or we’ll put a gag in that pretty mouth of yours—and it’s not that dark in here.’ I squirm but keep my eyes on the stage and lean into you as you put your arm around my shoulder, casually playing with my exposed breast and fixing your attention on the stage.

You realise the first act will be coming to a close soon and pull the clamps off my sore nipples, causing me to whimper softly. Fixing your mouth around each breath in turn, you suck gently and use your teeth to nibble at my nipples. I’m breathing deeper again and squirming into the chair, ‘Now, do you deserve to have the hands untied or should I take you downstairs like this?’ With my mind clouded with eroticism, I can see the appeal, but say softly, ‘Please untie me, Sir.’ You untie my hands, telling me to straighten my dress and then get on the floor in front of you with my head lowered, ass and cunt in the air, and legs spread.

When I’ve done so, you pull my dress up so my lower half is exposed. Trailing your hands up my legs, you tease my cunt lightly, noticing the sticky juices that have leaked onto my thighs and soaked my panties. You pull my panties to one side and plunge two fingers inside of me, hooking in and rubbing my g-spot. I can’t help moaning and pushing against your fingers desperately. You pull your wet fingers out and rub one over my asshole, dipping it inside and fucking me gently with it. You pull the princess plug out of my clutch and push the cold metal against my hole, enjoying the view as it stretches me and then pops inside. As the crescendo of the final act builds, you put two fingers back inside of me and start fucking me, leaning down and saying softly, ‘Cum before this aria finishes.’ I put my fingers onto my clit and rub as your fingers fuck me. My orgasm builds and explodes as the final notes are ringing out. As the music fades and I lie there panting and ecstatic, you lean down and lick from my clit to my hole, tasting and savouring me. Your tongue provokes a quiver of pleasure as the remnants of my orgasm fade and my muscles begin to relax.

You pull my panties back over my cunt, the thong sitting nicely over the princess plug buried inside me. Helping me up, you kiss me, before handing me back my clutch so I can check my appearance quickly. I’m flushed, but my hair and makeup is intact, so you pull me to my feet and lead me downstairs for the intermission.

Intermission

As we descend the stairs, I feel a tremble in my legs and a residual flush from the events of the first act. I hook my arm through yours and relish your strength and stability as I struggle to keep my composure. You steer me to the bar and order two champagnes, starting to chat to a British couple next to us about the pleasures of the first act, which singers were their favourite, and the opulence of the costumes and sets. I chat happily along with you. However, in the back of my mind I worry whether you have some ulterior motive in this friendly discussion.

You do—as I find out moments later, when you drop your handkerchief to the floor. I naturally bend to pick it up for you, the movement pulling the front of my dress down and pushing my breasts up. The man we’ve been talking to has followed me with his eyes and I look up to meet them as I take in his surprised expression at the obscenities written across my chest. I blush as I stand back up, avoiding his eyes and leaning into your body looking for pity at this humiliation.

His wife has not noticed as she has been engaged in steady conversation with you. The conversation stalls briefly and you whisper into my ear, ‘I think my shoe lace has come undone.’My breath catches and my face flushes as I stare into your eyes hoping you might be joking. I see a cold resolve and a hint of amusement at my distress. As the British couple is chatting happily, I lean down a second time, taking care to be more careful with the neckline of my dress, and tighten the laces on your shoes. I hear soft laughter from the woman and imagine the bemused smile on the man’s face. I straighten my stance, avoiding any eye contact—my face burning. ‘Lovely to meet you,’ you say with a charming smile, ‘Enjoy the rest of your evening—we certainly will.’ You lead me away, but not before cementing my humiliation by hooking your finger in the back of my dress and pulling the fabric down to reveal ‘Young owned slut’ written neatly and boldly on my body.

You guide me up the stairs to the booth, feeling a hard tremble running through my body. As we enter the room, you push me up against the shadowy wall next to the door. You tip my chin up so I’m looking into your face and note two single tears running down my cheeks and my trembling lip. You wipe them away and kiss the path they’ve left, ‘Was that very hard for you, baby girl?’

‘Yes, Sir,’ I respond, another silent tear falling.

‘But, you know how proud of you, I am right? You were such a brave, good girl and I am so proud at how strong and fearless you were.’ A smile starts to break on my face, ‘Thank you, Sir.’

You pull me down next to you on the seats, putting your arm around me and pulling me close to your body. You feel my body begin to relax in your arms and you marvel, not for the first time, at the places to which you can push me, at the things I will do for you.

Second Act

By the time the curtain rises for the second act, I am smiling and chatting again, and kissing you playfully—the humiliation behind me. We settle into each other’s bodies and focus on the music.

After some time, I begin to feel the music entering and pulsating through my body, catching my breath in my throat, and clouding my mind with its beauty, I begin to squirm down onto the princess plug still inside me. You notice my arousal and smoothly kneel in front of me, pulling my dress up, you scoot me forward onto the edge of the seat. With my cunt in front of your face, you take a moment appreciating me. I’m sticky and soaking wet—in fact, you’re surprised I have managed to keep my dress unstained. You inhale deeply and revel in the scent of my arousal.

As the strings in the orchestra pick out a sharp pizzicato, you pepper my thighs with small kisses and flicks of your tongue, moving towards my cunt teasingly. As the winds breeze into the movement, you sweep your tongue up my smooth lips to the crest of my pussy, kissing the short hair at its peak. You repeat the process on the other side as I lean my head back in ecstasy, feeling music and life and pleasure resonating within the deepest, primal parts of myself. As percussion and brass clash into the piece, you dip your tongue deeply into my hole causing me to cry out loudly, I move one of my hands to grasp your head, the other flying to my mouth in an attempt to stifle future cries. The piece takes a dark turn with a discordant tremolo rushing it forward. You take the opportunity to finally move to my clit, thrusting two fingers inside of me. Concentrating on my clit and fucking me with your fingers you hold me on the edge of the now almost frantic orchestral build up. As you sense both my and the movement’s climax, you curl your fingers in to my g-spot and increase your tongue’s pressure and movement over my clit. As the composition climaxes, so do I, and the moment is simultaneously the most fulfilling and devastating experience I could imagine. You sit back beside me, not worrying about cleaning up for the moment and hold me as my body continues to shake from the profound ecstasy it has experienced.

The rest of the act finishes in a blur for me as I cling to you, allowing your presence and the healing beauty of the music to piece me back together. The grandiose aria of the second act closes and the hall is illuminated softly for the next intermission.

Second Intermission

You smile at me fondly, pushing my hair back from my face, ‘How are you feeling, babygirl?’

‘I’m okay, Sir,’ I say and though I’m still shaken from the experience, my genuine smile affirms this for you.

‘Would it make you feel better to have Sir’s cock in your mouth?’ I smile widely and nod my head, though a small doubt makes me ask, ‘What if people see?’ You pull your chair around so that your lap is hidden from the boxes opposite us.

You tell me to present my ass and cunt to you and I comply immediately. You first pull my panties over my ass, until they’re down around my knees. Sensing your intent, I help you pull them off over my legs. You use them to soak up some of the juices still coating my pussy and thighs and then bring them to your face inhaling my smell and sighing contentedly. You then turn your attentions to the princess plug still in my asshole. You pull on it, letting it stretch me open, then releasr it and watch as it is sucked back in. Repeating the process a couple times, you finally pull it all the way out, placing it on the table beside you.

‘Spread your cheeks for me, slut.’ I reach around, with my face pressed into the floor and pull apart my cheeks, knowing that my asshole will be slightly gaping from the plug’s prolonged presence. I hear you unzip your trousers and imagine you stroking yourself while staring at me—cunt glistening and asshole gaping.

After several minutes, I hear you say, ‘I need your mouth now, Hannah.’ I face you and admire your hard, thick cock. You take your hand off of it and I shift onto all fours running my tongue flatly across your balls without touching your cock. The look in your eyes tells me you don’t want a tease, so, using my hand I wrap it around your cock, pulling the skin back to reveal your perfectly formed head. Looking up at you, I wrap my full lips around it, suctioning onto the head and lapping against the sensitive areas with my tongue until you’re moaning softly.

I take my mouth off of you and lick around your head with the tip of my tongue, teasingly. You can tell I’m enjoying the tease so you’re gentle but firm when you put your hand on the back of my head and pull me down to the base of your cock until you can feel the tip of it pushed against the tight, back of my throat. I open it for you, taking your cock down my throat now and you moan with pleasure holding me down fast until I tap your thigh, needed release and struggling to not gag loudly.

I pick the pace up and begin working your cock with my mouth. My top lip shielding my teeth, I use my tongue to add extra pressure and pleasure on your shaft, gauging your reactions. I enjoy the expression on your face when, with every few strokes of my mouth, I push down further and the head of your cock batters the back of my throat.

Third Act

The lights dim, but neither of us pays attention. I’m so focused on your cock, all thoughts for my appearance or decency goes out the window. Holding your cock in my hand, I remove my mouth; looking up at you pleadingly with strings of drool connecting my mouth and your shaft, I say, ‘Please fuck my face, Sir.’ You groan with pleasure and move your hands to either side of my face, pulling me down hard onto your cock. You spend minutes using my mouth and face as a masturbatory aid, letting me catch breath occasionally. During a particularly loud moment of percussion from the orchestra, you pull my face off your dick and slap me hard across the face four times.

I feel the slaps as a sharp, spasm of pleasure in my cunt. I grab your tie and pull you on top of me on the floor, hastily pushing your trousers down. We fumble with each other’s clothes until we are suitably undressed and you thrust your hard cock into me. One arm around my back, my body is bent up to meet yours. Our foreheads press together as you thrust hard into me, desperately fucking me, our mouths an inch apart, and our hot gasps mingling.

Your hands find my breasts and push my bra down. Suctioning your mouth around my nipple, you suck hard, raising your eyes to watch me groan with pleasure. ‘Let me ride you,’ I moan and you flip onto your back pulling me on top of you. I lean over you and start grinding down onto you. Your hands roam my back, gripping my hips, as my tits swing in your face. You suck and bite at them as I move over your body. Sitting up, I grind onto you, feeling your cock rubbing against my cervix. You reach up and cup my breasts in your hands, pulling greedily at my nipples as I continue to ride you.

Music swirls around us, but this time it is only the canvas upon which we’re painting our pleasure. Whereas before it guided, it now seems to follow. I groan and the cymbals crash. You drag your nails down my back and the violins release a high, shimmering vibrato. I lean down and kiss you, continuing to fuck down onto you. My orgasm builds and releases as the Prima Donna breaks out in a long, piercing note that swoops and soars throughout the theatre and our bodies.

As I recover, you flip me over, pushing my head down and grabbing my hips hard with both your hands. You thrust into my still twitching cunt, fucking hard and deep into me. My sensitive pussy starts building up in preparation for your release. On stage, the lovers reunite—their voices harmonising and swirling around each other. You cum deep inside of me, and my body reacts instantly, pushing itself into a fourth orgasm and squeezing your cock hard, milking it further.

We stay like that savouring the moment. When you pull out of me, you lick my cunt tasting the two of us together on your tongue. I clean your cock of my juices and the remnants of your cum, enjoying the taste and kissing you deeply. We smile at each other and kiss more, still wrapped around each other on the floor of our booth. Then, with about half of the third act remaining, we dress and help each other straighten up. You chuckle slightly at my hair, which has fallen out of its updo, and help me to pull the pins out and let it down over my shoulders.

I settle back into you to finish watching the rest of the opera, thinking about our evening. You whisper in my ear, ‘We’ll go back to the hotel and order room service. Then I’m fucking my little slut again while she tells me the exact plot of the opera. If there’s a scene out of place, she might need a spanking to jog her memory.’ I squirm in your arms and kiss your cheek, anticipating the adventures still to come.