His To Display

You invited a friend over tonight. You told me that he is someone you respect -- accomplished, charismatic, confident. You admire him, and now you want him to see me.

We are in New York, tucked away in our hotel room together. Our penthouse room is spacious, with a stunning view of Central Park. We've just returned from dinner -- you treated me to an upscale sushi restaurant in Manhattan. It was absolutely perfect -- a romantic candlelit setting, delicious food, and, best of all, your undivided attention.

Now that we are back in the room, we need to prepare for our guest. You pick out my lingerie -- a black lace teddy. It's flattering around my waist and displays my breasts in a way that is enticing, but not excessive. The high-cut design highlights my feminine curves. The design is crotchless, so when I put it on, I feel the exposure between my legs.

You run your hands over my body, feeling the soft lace hugging against my warm skin. You tell me to kneel as you pick up the collar from where it's been displayed. You gently wrap it around my neck and tighten it. You step back to admire me kneeling with the collar around my neck. You take the clip out of my hair and arrange my waves around my shoulders.

You help me stand and we kiss, slow and sensual, and you ask if I need anything. Your friend will be here soon and you want me relaxed, ready.

I tell you I'm ready, even though part of me isn't sure. I'm determined to make you proud.

The phone rings and you calmly answer it. It's the hotel concierge alerting us that our guest has arrived.

A wave of anxiety sweeps over me. I don't want to interact with another man. You meet my needs -- I don't need anyone else getting involved. You're everything I need. I agreed to this, but now that it's about to happen, I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. You've already explained to me how this will bring us closer and be good for me, but I'm not sure. I try to believe it.

You pull me close to you and kiss me deeply.

"Just remember to breathe and focus on me," you reassure me.

Your affection and encouragement soothe me. As nervous as I am, I remain steadfast in my trust of you. Your calm confidence is my anchor.

There is a knock on the door.

"Kneel," you softly instruct.

I hurry to obey. You pause to check my pose. You nod and smile at me before turning to open the door. I keep my eyes focused on the carpet in front of me as I listen to you and your friend exchange warm greetings. You take his coat and pour him a bourbon, topping off your own while you do.

You escort him over to where I'm kneeling silently by the bed. I feel both of you piercing through my skin and studying my pose. I immediately sense his intrigue. He's analyzing me. I feel your pride.

"This is her default pose," you explain. "She knows it by heart and it's very meditative for her."

I'm becoming hyper aware of my body's position. I keep my chin down, eyes focused, and find my breathing. You walk around me and point out some of your favorite things about this pose -- the symmetrical curve of my hips, my fingers neatly resting on my thighs, my hair falling forward.

"Yes, it's a very beautiful position," your friend agrees, choosing his words carefully.

"It's our favorite. Look at me, princess," you instruct.

I lift my gaze and find your eyes -- full of warmth and command. You offer me a slight smile and even when your lips stop smiling, it remains in your eyes.

"Greet our guest," is your next instruction.

"Yes, Sir," I address you first before shifting my gaze to your friend.

"Good evening," I politely say, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

I'm careful not to give him too much eye contact, just enough to be polite but I don't let my gaze linger. I'm mindful to be respectful, but not too inviting.

"Good girl," you quickly say before your friend can reply to me. "We are going to the balcony to smoke a cigar. Stay in your pose until I knock. Then bring us another drink."

"Yes Sir."

You lead your friend out to the balcony and close the sliding door securely.

Alone, my mind races. I lower my eyes back to the carpet and recenter myself. Your friend is handsome. He is tall, with a strong jaw and wide shoulders. If I saw him at a bar, I'd notice him. He is poised and confident, but also humble and aware. I immediately feel respect for him and understand why you chose to invite him here.

I wonder what you are discussing with him out there. You told me that you already had explained some of the dynamic to him, so maybe you're going over it again in more detail. You told me that he is newly single -- out of a 10-year long marriage. You met him through work and bonded over travel, cigars, and music. When he opened up about his divorce, your relationship got close.

Then, you told him about me and he was very curious. He was intrigued by the way you described our relationship. It's been a recurring topic between the two of you to the point where you felt comfortable enough to invite him to meet me. When you discovered you would both be in Manhattan for the same conference, you invited me to join your trip and you arranged for this evening. So, now, here we are.

When you brought the idea to me, I was excited at first. I'm always eager to push my limits and try new things with you. I liked the idea of displaying all the things I've learned through being your submissive. The idea of allowing someone else to witness my surrender was exciting.

As it's gotten closer, more nerves crept in. Your reassurance has helped. You explained over and over that "it's still just us," that you'll be just as tuned in to me as you always are, that he won't distract you from that. When I begged you to divulge exact details of what might happen and what to expect, you refused. You only promised that you will keep me safe. You told me all I have to do is trust you. I do.

My daydreaming is interrupted by a sharp knock on the balcony door -- my signal.

I stand, wobbling a bit to get my balance after kneeling for so long, and walk to the bar. I carefully pour you each a fresh bourbon and tiptoe over to the balcony, a cool glass in each hand. I wait at the door for you to acknowledge me. I don't want to interrupt your conversation, so I stand patiently while you finish speaking.

You open the door and take both glasses from my hands -- one for each of you. You're not allowing me to serve him directly. It's a reminder: I belong to you.

"Thank you, baby," you say as you lovingly caress my cheek. "Go relax on the bed. We'll be inside in a few minutes."

"Yes Sir," I say with a smile while I walk back into the room. You gently close the balcony door behind me.

Keeping an eye on the conversation on the balcony, I begin readying the bed. I stack the decorative throw pillows on an ottoman and pull back the duvet. I check the playlist and turn the volume a bit higher. Finally, I spray an extra pump of perfume onto my neck and sit on the edge of the bed, my knees together, back straight, palms down on my thighs.

In perfect timing, the two men reenter the room. I find your eyes -- steady and calm -- and prepare to surrender.

"Hey pretty girl," you murmur. "You ready?"

"Yes Sir."

"Come kneel for me."

"Yes Sir." I slide off the bed and settle comfortably into my favorite pose.

Your friend takes a seat on the side chair and you step in front of me. I lean my head against your thigh, seeking affection and comfort. You crouch in front of me, at my eye level and hold my hands in yours.

"It's just me," you whisper so quietly our guest can't hear. "Focus on me."

I nod and exhale. My shoulders relax. I'm ready. You're here guiding me. It's like you said: all I need to do is trust.

"Open," you instruct.

I open my lips and show you my tongue -- presenting myself to you. You slowly unbuckle your belt and press your cock against my tongue. It tastes so good and I immediately slide it into my throat. My lips seal tightly around you and my throat opens for you. My saliva coats your dick as it pumps in and out of my mouth. I'm greedily slurping you up, wanting more as I get lost in submission.

My mind goes blank. My body knows instinctively what to do without thinking. I respond to all your cues -- your moans, your slight movements, your breathing -- and I match my actions accordingly. My only purpose is to give you the most pleasure I possibly can. This is where I go to get so beautifully lost in my devotion.

Suddenly, or maybe after a long time, I'm not sure, you pull back. I look up at you, dazed, but instead of looking at me, you're looking at our guest. My face flushes with embarrassment -- I had completely forgotten he was here in my submissive escape. I self-consciously wipe the saliva off my chin and blink to clear away the tears brimming in my eyes.

"Good job, baby," you say in your smooth, deep voice. "Now it's his turn."

I swallow hard, unsure about what's going to happen next. You motion to your friend and he obediently takes your place standing in front of me. You walk behind me and rest your hands on my shoulders, stroking your thumb across my skin in a way that grounds me.

"Do it exactly like that for him," is your simple instruction.

With that, your friend slides his dick out of his pants. I gasp. It's huge. There is no way I'll be able to fit that into the back of my mouth. My throat tightens at just the sight of it.

"Go ahead," you encourage. "Be a good girl now."

I timidly kiss then lick the tip of his huge cock, just tasting him at first. I wrap my lips around the tip and press my tongue against the underside. I feel his blood rush and pulse as I pull him deeper into my mouth, inch by inch.

I still can feel you behind me. Your hands are now in my hair, guiding, soothing. With your touch, I go deeper, pushing my limits, stretching my lips around him. I gag and spit. I slide my lips from the tip to the base of his huge cock.

He starts to moan and tense up. I wonder if he is going to cum soon. I continue, trying my best to give him as much pleasure as possible. I'm doing it for you. I notice his breathing has changed and I taste something new -- his pre-cum. His moans are more intense now and I prepare myself to swallow his load. His thighs tense. He's so close.

Just when I think it's about to happen, just when he is about to orgasm, you grab my head, firm but gentle, and pull me off his dick. I gasp and he moans. He slumps his shoulders, disappointed that his pleasure was so abruptly interrupted. But he doesn't protest. Just like me, he knows that you're in control of the pleasure and this is your domain.

"Good girl," you praise. "Do you see how much you turned him on? We're going to have some fun with you now. Come to the bed."

I'm lightheaded when I stand. You steady me and lead me to the bed, where you help me into position. I'm bent over the bed, my chest and face resting on the mattress with my arms reaching in front of me. You walk around the bed and fix my fingers, lining them up perfectly side by side.

He's intently watching us, studying the way you lead me.

"So we're going to spank her," you say to your friend. "I'll show you some of my favorite tools and spots to strike, then you can explore as well. Just pay attention to how wet she gets. She loves this. And she's very, very good at taking it."

I hear you behind me laying out the various whips, paddles, and floggers. The sound of you laying out leather, wood, and metal clasps builds my anticipation. You start by running your hands over my ass and hips, and briefly touching my clit as well. You're reminding me of the pleasure that waits on the other side of obedience.

Without warning, the first strike with the paddle lands. I yelp and my body jerks away from the pain.

"Good girls stay still, remember?"

I exhale and focus. If you want me to be still, I won't dare move a muscle. I press my hips back into position and I will not move again.

Another strike lands in the same spot. I moan, but don't move at all. You continue to hit the same place, so when you finally switch to a new spot, it feels like relief. I try counting the strikes in my head, but I only make it to eight before losing focus and starting over.

I give up on counting and instead focus on my breathing, trying to match my inhale and exhale to your hits. It's not really possible though, because you're not striking me in any rhythm or pattern. I'm chasing the rhythm but you change it just as I'm starting to anticipate the next impact. Eventually, I give up and surrender to the unpredictability.

You switch to a new tool -- I think it's a crop. It stings more than the paddle and the smaller surface area causes a burn that radiates out. I love the sound of the crisp smack of the leather on my skin and hearing my own gasps and yelps.

You continue spanking me until my skin is sore and my breathing is ragged. My thighs shake. Once again, I had forgotten we have company. That means that he will get a turn, too.

You rub your hands over me, soothing the pain. I arch my back slightly more -- my cue for you to touch my wetness. You trace one finger over the slit and I moan with pleasure. My clit is swollen and aching for your touch, but you don't give me any more. I lean into you but you snatch your hand away, denying me.

Good girls wait.

You pace around the bed, coming into my line of sight. I raise my eyes to meet yours and I find that familiar focused, peaceful look. You gaze at me, absolutely bursting with pride and adoration. I feel the same toward you. I'm determined to take this next round of spanking just the way you've trained me.

"Are you ready?" You ask your friend as you gesture to me, still in my pose, waiting and ready.

"Yes, thank you," he responds and I sense him step closer to me. His voice is soft, respectful, reverent. I hear him inhale deeply. I do the same. We exhale together.

He starts with his hand, cold and calloused against my tender skin. He apprehensively slaps me, barely a tap.

"She likes it harder. Don't be shy," you tell him.

The next slap is a little firmer, and each one that follows is harder and harder as he finds his confidence. My body begins to respond.

Then, he pauses.

"Can she count?" He asks you.

"Sure, if that's what you want," you reply nonchalantly.

"Yes I want her to count back from 20," he says, with the authority of an experienced Dom.

"Okay then. Baby, be a good girl and count back from 20 for this nice gentleman," you instruct.

"Yes Sir. Thank you."

Your friend picks up a flogger and strikes it horizontally across my ass with enough force that makes me dizzy for a moment. My instincts tell me to move, to escape, but I stay still and say out loud "twenty."

Another impact, same as the previous. It bites into my skin.

"Nineteen."

Three more, all in rapid succession.

"Eighteen, seventeen, sixteen."

A pause. He's readjusting his stance. The next strike is underhand, catching my clit and sending fire through my body.

"Fifteen."

I sneakily adjust my hips, trying to protect my clit, bracing for the next impact.

"Fourteen."

"Hold on," you interject. You walk over to me and tap my legs, cueing me to open wider. You place two fingers in the small of my back, signaling me to arch more. You noticed me move and won't let me get away with it.

"She moved. Re-do fourteen," you instruct us both. Your tone isn't unkind, it's expectant, composed.

I should have known better than to try to move. Of course I won't get away with it. I close my eyes, ashamed that I faltered.

He strikes again, making full contact with my clit. The pain flows through my body and a tear escapes my eye.

"Fourteen. Thank you," I say, remembering my manners despite the tears that are flowing from my eyes now.

The next strike thankfully misses my clit, but I know it's not done yet.

"Thirteen."

Two more hits, one overhand and one underhand on my left side.

"Twelve, eleven."

Two more of the same on the other side.

"Ten, nine."

I'm over halfway there. I feel the fatigue in my body. My muscles are tight and sore, and my skin feels so tender. The ache between my legs is demanding attention. I feel my wetness dripping down my thighs like raindrops on a window.

He switches to the paddle.

"Eight."

This time on my inner thigh.

"Seven."

The other thigh gets the same treatment.

"Six."

I arch more, craving another sting against my clit.

"Hit her clit again," you tell him, reading my body language as if it's a neon sign.

He obeys.

"Five," I gasp.

And again.

I cannot speak. My body is overwhelmed with pain and pleasure. He winds up again.

"Wait," you say, listening for my counting.

"Four," I mumble.

"Good girl," you praise me from your position across the room. "Continue," you tell your friend.

Another strike against my clit.

"Three."

Almost done. He pauses, throwing me off the rhythm. I breathe.

The next strike lands in a particularly sore spot on the right side of my ass -- it's the spot you hit many times earlier.

"Two."

The final hit. I'm ready for it. I brace myself and breathe, but it doesn't come. I need it. I need to finish counting, to show you how well I can take it.

"Please, one more," I beg, my voice raspy and desperate. "Please."

He keeps me in this suspense for what feels like forever. I cry out, my crave for the final blow so powerful.

Without warning, my wish is granted. He uses all his strength to bring the paddle down on my ass. It's the hardest strike of the night. The impact almost knocks me over and I have to clench my muscles to regain my balance. I whimper because I don't have any energy left to scream.

The pain sets in now. My entire pelvis aches. My skin is hot and I'm lightheaded and dizzy. I collapse onto the bed, tears in my eyes. I need you next to me, holding me close and showering me with praise. The room is spinning and I can't find you. I close my eyes and groan in pain. I am lost and scared.

I hear your voice, your husky whisper, talking to your friend. I strain to hear, but I can't understand what you're saying.

In a moment, you're next to me, rubbing lotion over my sores. You're kissing my shoulders and telling me that I'm okay, that you're right here and that I'm safe. I crawl into your arms and you hold me there, protective and loving.

"Where is he?" I manage to ask.

"Smoking on the balcony," you respond.

I turn to see his silhouette leaning against the railing, a thick cigar ablaze in his fingers.

"What happened?" I ask, still disoriented.

"You were amazing. You took more from me than you ever have before. Then, you counted. It was so beautiful. He didn't go easy on you, but you did such a good job. I'm so proud of you."

"Really?" is the only thing I can say.

"Yes, baby. Really."

I sigh and nuzzle in closer to you. My head is spinning and I feel like I'm floating. The stinging pain is lessening and I'm becoming aware of another deeper ache. I need a release. I want more.

You hold me here for a while, playing with my hair, planting little kisses and touches all over my body. We lay together in comfortable silence.

You get up and bring me some water, instructing me to finish the glass. I sit up in bed and obediently take a sip.

"You go freshen up in the bathroom. I'm going to invite our guest back in," you tell me.

I approach you for one more hug and kiss before we continue with the rest of the night.

"Am I going to have sex with him?" I ask while my head is cradled in your neck and your hands are fastened around my back.

"No princess," you reply gently. "You're not going to have sex with him, okay?"

"Okay, thank you daddy."

You give me another tight squeeze and a playful slap on my sore ass while I walk into the bathroom.

I look in the mirror and breathe. My makeup is smudged, I lost an earring, and my skin is flushed in uneven patches of red. Despite how disheveled I look, there is a sparkle in my eye. I splash warm water on my face, brush out my hair, and swirl mouthwash.

I twist to see the marks across my ass -- I'm covered with angry red imprints where you both spanked me. I rub the area, trying and failing to soothe the burn. I clean myself with a cool washcloth, which helps for a moment.

I breathe and center myself, smiling in the mirror. I gaze at myself as if I'm looking at another woman. I see a beautiful, empowered, confident woman. The woman in the mirror is sure of herself and bold enough to pursue her desires. I stand tall and walk out of the bathroom with a big smile.

"Hi gentlemen," I greet you both.

You're both standing by the bed, fresh glasses of bourbon in your hands. I notice you've set up some restraints on the bed. I approach you and kneel, ready. You sweetly stroke my hair.

"Go lay in the middle of the bed on your back," you say.

"Yes Sir."

I gracefully climb the bed and lay on my back, my feet flat on the bed and my knees bent. I mindfully place my arms at my sides, fingers together just how you like. You watch me get into position and pause before approaching me.

Silently, you begin with my left ankle, putting a cuff tightly around me and pulling my leg straight toward the left corner of the bed and clicking it into place. I try to pull my leg back into the center, but I can only move about an inch. You do my right ankle next, and then my wrists.

So there I am, completely restrained and exposed. You walk away and admire your work from the other side of the room, where your friend has been carefully watching this whole time. You're talking to each other, but I can't hear your words. I hear your glasses click together. You're probably toasting to all your hard work that went into my training. Or maybe you're toasting to me -- your perfect girl.

The two of you are huddled together across the room, deep in conversation. You seem completely unaware of the fact that I'm powerlessly restrained on the bed right in front of you. I'm bound and helpless. Usually, you would be all over me when I'm like this, but now you seem content to talk with your friend and occasionally glance my way.

I focus inward. I feel my chest and stomach rise and fall with my breath. I feel the ache of desire deep in my belly. There is something so sacred about being in this position. It's my way of showing you how much I trust you, and how willing I am to surrender to you. I close my eyes and focus on my purpose. I tune out your hushed conversation and think only of earning your praise.

I open my eyes when I hear footsteps approaching me. It's not you, though.

You're still across the room, your dark eyes carefully observing. Your friend touches me. He runs his hand up my leg and gives my hip a squeeze. He keeps exploring my body with his hands, leaning over the bed. He caresses my breasts, giving each nipple a pinch.

You let him touch me. I keep my eyes on you and your expression shows calm approval. I tilt my hips up, trying to bring his attention to the place where I really need to be touched. He responds to this silent plea and uses one finger to slowly stroke from the opening of my pussy to the top of my clit.

My body responds to this touch, my breath catches, and I release a deep moan. He continues to touch me like that, playing with the pressure and speed to see what gets the strongest reactions out of me.

"Let's mark her," your voice brings me back.

Each of you is kissing one of my breasts. He pulls back and watches as you bite and suck hard in one place, bringing blood to the surface. It hurts, but I love wearing your marks on my skin. He follows your lead and does the same thing on my other breast. I'm stunned you're letting him mark me, too. You want me to remember this.

He seems to enjoy my breasts, so he stays there, kissing, biting, pinching, and slapping me. You begin to wander, starting with leaving kisses along a trail over my belly and waist, then my thighs. Finally, you bring your lips to my clit. It's so sore from earlier and your warm and wet mouth feels amazing. You kiss and lick me, slowly, making sure I'm still breathing.

"Watch this," you say to your friend as you press a finger inside me. I gasp and my entire body tenses. If you would give me permission, I could easily cum right now just from that. You begin to move your finger expertly, and then you add another one, paying close attention to my reaction.

"Here, you do it," you invite him to take over and he does so eagerly. You move up to my face and kiss my lips, teasing me with your tongue while you have your friend play with my pussy.

"It's time, baby. You've been a good girl. Now I need you to squirt all over his fingers," you tell me.

"Yes daddy, thank you."

He is fingering me harder now, spreading three fingers wide inside me so I'm stretched out and open. Meanwhile, you're kissing my face, my lips, and watching me squirm with pleasure.

I feel like I'm about to explode. I pull against my restraints, my body tense and ready. He finds the perfect angle and that's it -- I look at you and erupt all over him. I can't breathe, my heart is pounding, and my body is covered in sweat. He doesn't let up, fingering me and rubbing my clit. I shatter into a million pieces, completely overtaken by the orgasm. He pushes deep into me one more time and releases the last bit of pleasure I can offer. He removes his fingers and I feel so empty. I moan and sigh, completely depleted.

You kiss me again then get up and begin releasing my restraints. Our guest goes into the bathroom to wash up. I roll onto my side and you put a pillow under my head and cover me with the soft white duvet. You kiss my temple and I smile up at you.

When he comes out of the bathroom, you offer him a handshake and thank him for coming by. He shares his gratitude for being invited and says that he learned a lot.

"Baby, what do you say to our visitor?" You prompt me.

"Thank you," is all I can say, my voice faint and sweet.

You walk him to the door and help him with his coat.

"You're a very lucky man," is the last thing he says to you on his way out.

Finally, you lock the door behind him and come crawl into bed with me. You pull me close, my back tight against your chest, my head cradled in your arm.

"How did I do, daddy?" I whisper.

"Absolutely perfect, you were perfect."

I roll over to face you. You're smiling and I see a bit of desire still flickering in your face. I kiss you and roll back away from you. I adjust my hips, an invitation, and you accept, sliding your delicious cock into me.

I'm sore and tired, but this is my purpose. I would never miss an opportunity to show you my devotion.

You pull me on top of you and I cling to your chest, so grateful to be able to touch and hold you like this. It's only a few minutes before we are both on the edge. I'm desperate to feel your cum fill me up. I increase my pace, clenching you deeper and deeper into me. I bite and kiss your neck while moaning deeply.

"Cum with me," you say.

So I do. We orgasm together, clinging to each other through the climax of our pleasure.

My body goes limp on top of you. I have nothing left. I've given you every part of myself. But instead of feeling empty, I feel so full.

That woman in the mirror -- that strong, radiant woman -- she is me. I have found my strength through submission. There is power in my devotion.

You see me for who I really am. You know me more deeply than I've ever been known. You understand it all. This dynamic, this connection, this love means everything to me. Thank you.