It’s my birthday. Tonight, I celebrate in my penthouse, high above the city’s glittering skyline. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the twinkling lights, a private world of power and privilege. I’ve planned everything impeccably. White linen tablecloth. Flickering candles in crystal holders. Cold buffet of caviar and oysters. Champagne chilling in silver buckets.
I draw a bath in the marble tub. Bubbles foam high, scented with jasmine oil. I float, skin soaking in luxury. Then, I dry off with plush towels. Perfume my neck, wrists. Shave my pussy smooth—he loves it bare. Reparfume. Light makeup to make my eyes sparkle. Hair loose over shoulders.
The Privilege
The dress arrives today. Black, thin straps, bare shoulders and back. I order a size small—skin-tight. Slip it on naked. No bra. No panties. Fabric clings like a second skin. Nipples harden against it. Already wet between thighs. The view from the mirror: indecent. Breasts nearly spilling from the plunge neckline.
Doorbell chimes. It’s Kevin. Ten years older, my obsession since we met. Bouquet in one hand, gift in the other. Roses in a Baccarat vase. He eyes me. ‘Stunning welcome. That dress—you’d never wear it out.’ True. Ass hugged tight. Breasts thrust forward.
‘You open the gift later.’ We sit. Champagne pops. Bubbles crisp, golden on tongue. His gaze devours me. Straps slip; I tug them up. Breasts ache, desire blatant. Oysters slide down, salty. But food barely registers. Heat builds.
‘Gift now?’ ‘If you insist.’ I tear paper. Box reveals handcuffs. Real police issue, cold steel. I blush. Heart races. ‘Lock me up?’ ‘Prison of love. Try them.’ He pulls arms back. Click. Locked. Posture arches me. Breasts strain fabric. Helpless.
Kiss deep. Tongue invades. Fire ignites. Lips trail neck, shoulders, back. Legs weaken. I tug cuffs—bite wrists. Panting. Hands roam dress. Feel my nudity beneath. Pinch nipples through silk. I swoon. Moan. Strap falls. Breast frees. Lip claims nipple. Sensitive peak throbs. Orgasm builds. His hand slides thigh. I part legs. Pussy soaked. Fingers tease. I shatter. Cry out. Waves crash.
The Excess
‘Take me… please…’ He smirks. Delays. Dress slips fully. Breasts bare. He hikes skirt. Exposes belly. I spread wide. Pussy open, dripping. Beg. ‘Now… fuck me…’
The Excess
Cuffs amplify torment. He knows. Tongue laps pussy. Flooded folds. Clit swollen. Flicks it. Surprise orgasm rips. Violent. I scream. ‘Your cock… now…’
Kneel. He drops pants. Cock rigid, veined, hot. Presses lips. I suck eagerly. Tongue swirls head. It pulses. Another climax grips me. He pulls out. Cum erupts. Hot jets splash face. Mouth open, tasting salt. More on neck, breasts. I offer them up.
‘Happy birthday, Anne.’ Later, he unlocks. Carries naked body to king bed. Silk sheets cool skin. Kisses forehead chastely. Slips away. Penthouse silent. City lights guard our secret. Walls of glass seal discretion. Elite pleasure, utterly private.
