Black Bull 02: Fancy Dress

**** Saturday afternoon
"Damn it Faisal!"
Jesus, I wished she wouldn't shout like that. I almost had a bloody heart attack!
"We need those slides perfect *today*! What have you been up to since I was away?!"
Poor old Faisal. Well, 'poor''s probably not the right word, given he works at the same hedge fund as Claire. Still, he had my sympathies. I couldn't see his face on her laptop, but I could imagine him desperately trying to disconnect his camera and blame it on a 'tech problem'.
My wife was sat in our kitchen, on a stool at the big breakfast bar in the middle of the spacious room (like I said; hedge fund). There was this funny disco feel to the place, the autumnal sun blasting in through the glass panel doors, hitting the copper pans on the walls, little beams of sunshine reflecting off them to make odd spotlights.
Claire was staring intently at the laptop's screen, her headphones on, scowling. Not good.
"No. No. Yeah... that's a no too. Look, I'll see you in the office next week. Just make sure you have it put together better by then." She clicked off, sighing.
"You were giving him a bit of a hard time, no?" I handed her a coffee, realising suddenly caffeine and annoyed wife might not be the best of combos.
"Thanks. Maybe. But we have a big client coming in next week - we *really* need to be ready for this. Done right, we win. I make partner. So the stakes are pretty high!"
I think I remember listening. A bit. But my mind was already focused on the night's party.
"Don't worry about that for now, you *have* to see our costumes!"
"Oh, you've got them already? Thank you sweetie! And they're good?"
I'm pretty sure I was grinning my stupid grin again; they were fucking *awesome*.
"Oh, they are *brilliant*! You're going to love them! Come on, I'll show you!"
****
**** Saturday night
I hated that car. Small, tree-lined suburban street, plus narrow bays, plus whacking great Land Rover equals parallel parking hell.
"I've told you before," I scowled, looking over myself, left-arm across Claire's headrest, halfway through a one-hundred point turn, "this machine is not practical for around here!"
"Hey, I pay, I choose."
She had a point. Still...
"Fine," I harrumphed, "you can park it next time."
To be fair to her, even my parking grump wasn't going to dampen her mood. She leaned over to me, giving me one of her delightful little kisses.
"Come on, this is a party night! Let's not argue."
I finally got the beast parked up. We got out, looking down the street at the large house, hidden behind imposing gates, where the party was audibly going on.
We'd been to a few of Kate's legendary fancy-dress parties before, but not one with quite such a risqué theme - 'Kink' was all the invite card had said, the small thing covered in pictures of whips, riding crops, handcuffs and the like.
Kate was one of Claire's friends from UCL, where they'd both studied. They'd continued their friendship over the years, Kate getting married the same year that Claire and I had. Both she and her husband, Ralph, had worked at the same hedge fund, the one Claire was a budding partner-in-the-making at. I thought my salary as a Cloud Architect was pretty good, but it was small beer in comparison. As you walked up the gates, you could see just what that sort of cash bought you - a plush Edwardian townhouse in one of the nicest post codes in London.
Claire clicked the buzzer, pulling her large black coat tighter around her, protecting herself from the breeze. Fancy dress can be an extreme sport with UK weather.
My collar was bugging me. "This thing chafes," I complained, one finger poking down the side of it, trying to loosen its scratchy grip around my neck.
"You won't even notice it once you've had a drink or two. Or three. Besides, I think you look *very* sexy."
She gave me the hottest little wink.
Fuck, Beylikdüzü travesti "*I* look sexy? Then what the hell does that make *you*?!"
I could see she was trying to look stern; she failed.
"Your Goddess! And don't you forget it, *slave*!"
I shivered a little under his coat, and not just because of the cold.
"Yes Goddess!" I laughed, clicking my heels together, mock-saluting her.
"Passcode?" came the voice on the intercom.
They did like to go a bit far with these things. "For God's sake."
"Dirty," rasped Claire, putting on her best husky voice, leaning into the grille. The mechanism clicked, a whirring sound as the powered double-gates slowly swung open.
"Oh God!" she cried, looking down the path to the house, "I forgot it was gravelled!"
I couldn't help but laugh, looking down at her feet, the black stiletto boots' sharp heels looking like they'd be good for dominatrixing, less good for navigating suburban driveways.
****
The large front door, a pair of novelty handcuffs hanging from the handle, opened wide.
Kate was standing in the hallway, looking as gorgeous as I remembered. She was short, only just five foot, her normally long dark hair done up beautifully, made curly. She was wearing a black leather miniskirt, a tight fitting black top, her boobs pushed up by an impressive looking corset, - I tried not to stare - and long black leather boots. Her wrists had restraints on them, and she had a black leather choker, a large gold ring dangling from the middle. She was beaming as she saw her friend, reaching her arms out to hug Claire.
"Darling!" she gushed, "Come in, come in!"
"Kate! You look wonderful! What are you though?"
"I'm 'O', from the Story of O!"
"Oh!"
"Yes," grimaced Kate, beckoning us in, "I'm getting that a lot..."
She led us into the main hall, the party clearly happening elsewhere; the music could be heard a few rooms down.
"You can leave your coats in here," she said, opening the door to a large cloakroom, "I'm dying to see what you've come as!"
Time to knock her little socks off. OK, large leather kink boots, but you get the idea.
"Kate, sorry, 'O' - I don't think you'll be disappointed."
I handed Kate my raincoat, watching her closely for a reaction. Perfect - her mouth opened in shock.
"Oh my God Neil, I didn't think you had it in you!"
I stood, holding my arms out, to allow her to see my full regalia.
Like Kate, I was wearing a large leather collar, also with a hoop on the front. Except mine had a lead attached to it, the thing leading down my chest to artfully wrap around the waist. The studded collar also had, picked out in large gold lettering, the words 'Good Boy'.
My chest was bare, save for the leather harness, the thing like a BDSM trouser suspender. I had a pair of black leather trousers on, the pièce de résistance at the back. I did a little twirl, the things having the desired impact as I heard Kate gasp, the backless chaps giving her a full view of my hairless ass.
"What do you think?" I asked, superfluously, as my little minx slapped my bare behind.
"It's *fantastic*!" she enthused, "It suits you."
I saw her wink over at Claire.
"So if you're the sub, I'm guessing..."
Claire de-robbed herself, a devilish little smile on her face as she handed me her coat.
"Hold this, slave."
I knew my role here - I gave her a little bow.
"Oh, *wow*!" said Kate, "that is so *you*!"
It was Claire's turn to spin. She was the perfect dominatrix, her pale skin, blonde hair and blue eyes offsetting the black she wore. She had a small black choker, a tight, low cut PVC top, the word 'Dominatrix' spelt out - more superfluousness - in glitter across it, stopping at her belly button, her bare midriff showing off her temporary belly ring. I don't know why, but it was the ring that really did it for me...
Her Beylikdüzü travestiileri bottom half was a tight black PVC mini-skirt and a pair of thigh-high black leather boots. She'd somehow managed to secrete a riding crop about herself - I swear, I did not see *that* when I got the costumes! - and put it to good use, giving my backside a little thwack.
See? Fucking *awesome* costumes.
"Come on," said Kate, "the party's in the kitchen. Let's go and get a drink."
****
I was stood, leaning up against the fridge door, chatting to a man in a mask. The fellow was stood to my left, the man's wife - Stephanie?, Sarah? - dressed as an alluring 'naughty nurse', to my right. Technically, I was being chatted *at*.
"The thing is," he continued, shouting over the music, unnecessarily leaning into my ear, "you can't worry too much about long-term yields," - the nurse yawned - "you just have to make sure you get the right deal *now*."
"Uh-huh."
I just nodded, taking another sip of wine, my eyes scanning the room, trying to see another face I recognised. I always seemed to get stuck with the bore at parties...
The large kitchen had been done up to look a bit like a dungeon. If you squinted. And had a lot to drink. Really, Kate and Ralph had simply hung chains off of most the available hooks. Still, I thought, my mind wandering from the droning about long-term whatevers, they *did* have a nice place for parties.
The kitchen was vast - you could probably run from one end to the other, get up a good head of steam and still have time to stop before you hit the doors to the garden. There was a breakfast bar, a giant American fridge-freezer, a huge range in the middle of the room and still a whole series of tables and chairs laid out around the place. *Two* hedge fund salaries will buy you a lot of house, even in London.
"Neil!"
I turned to my left. It was a pudgy man in a leather gimp suit, but minus the mask, which kind of spoiled the whole aesthetic if you ask me.
"How are you buddy?" It was Ralph, the other half of the hosting couple. I was genuinely pleased to see him, if only to get me away from the bore.
"If you'll excuse me," I said to the couple, cutting off the man in the mask's diatribe about pensions. The guy's wife rolled her eyes at me, as if it was *my* fault she'd now be stuck with the tedious man she'd had the lack of foresight to marry.
I put my arm around Ralph's shoulder, practically dragging him away.
"Wow - that man can talk."
Ralph looked back over his shoulder. "Oh, Seb, yeah, he's, err..."
"Fucking boring?"
"Ha!" laughed the gimp - he looked more like a weird undertaker - "Yes, bang on. Still, his wife's rather nice, don't you think?"
"By the way, I *love* your outfit! Could do with seeing a bit less of your butt, mind you," he laughed, grabbing a fresh glass of wine off of the range.
"I don't 'spose there was any chat about Claire being the sub?"
I had to give the man his due - that *was* funny.
I realised I no idea where my dom had got to. "Speaking of my Mistress, have you seen her around?"
"Sure, she's out the back with Kate and some chap I don't know, Dee, something. I assume it's a work thing."
"Nope," I said, pointing over at one of the corner tables, "look, there's your better half."
"Oh, well, I guess she's out back talking shop. Look, I'd better go mingle some more, gotta 'press the flesh', you know? Thought I'd come rescue you from Seb first though."
I was very grateful for *that*.
****
I walked out through the double-doors and onto the porch. It was dark outside, but there were some lamps and fairy lights wound around some of the trellising, meaning I could see well enough not to trip. A good thing too, several glasses of wine in.
I squinted, my eyes adjusting to the gloom, and caught sight of Claire and a man stood in front travesti Beylikdüzü of her.
The man was hard to miss, tall, the horns on his head silhouetted by the lights. They were laughing - presumably, not talking hedge funds - the man putting his hand on my wife's shoulder, leaning into her. He leant down - he was a good six foot something to Claire's five and a bit - and said something into her ear, Claire leaning back into him, turning her head to hear. She guffawed.
I walked up to the pair, apparently neither of them noticing me until I was stood right next to them, the poor light and their clearly engrossing conversation masking my approach.
"There you are Mistress," I joked. I have to admit, I wasn't actually looking at my wife, but up and to my right at the large man stood in front of her.
He really *was* quite large. Kudos to the guy for his outfit, it was not too dissimilar to my own, a pair of black leather straps across his torso, but with an 'X' of two further straps, diagonally criss-crossing him, gently blending into his light chocolate skin.
He looked young, maybe early twenties, and clearly spent some time in the gym, judging from the neatly delineated pecs and visible six pack. There wasn't a hair visible on his chest. His head was shaved close to bald, a small diamond stud earring twinkling as it caught the fairy lights.
"Oh, darling," said Claire, seemingly caught unawares, looking suddenly sheepish, "this is Deejay. He's just joined the company - I was giving him some 'pointers'." They both laughed, though fuck knows why - the joke was lost on me.
"Hi, I'm Dee," said the man, offering me his hand. Fucker almost crushed mine; why do some folks think that limb mutilation is a good way to endear yourself to someone you've just met?
"Nice to meet you - I'm Neil."
"Neil, eh? Ah!" said the man, recognition spreading across his face as he laughed, "So *this* is your slave?" He turned, looking at Claire, a broad grin on his face. Smug shit.
"Yes," said Claire, smiling back and up at Deejay. Lord only knows how, but she somehow managed to see out of the corner of her eye to slap me with that damned riding crop; I yelped.
"This is my little slave."
I didn't like *that* turn of phrase. But Jesus, she looked so hot standing there, smiling her best sultry smile at the bugger.
"But you haven't told me what your costume is Dee. *You* don't strike me as the sub type..." She bit her bottom lip and tilted her head back a little, ever so slightly squeezing her arms in across her chest, giving her cleavage a bit of extra 'oomph'.
Deejay just stood there, smiling, blatantly ogling my wife's chest right in front of me. Claire could clearly see it too, tilting her head slightly to the side, biting her lip harder.
I guess I should have tried to drag her away, but there was something just so fucking *hot* about it. My brain was flashing images of what she'd told me in the hotel, of her getting her little pussy pummelled by a big stud.
"I'm a bull," said Deejay, turning to look directly at me, "Do you know what that means Neil?"
Shit, now he's got me. I could feel my cock stiffen slightly. Pretty sure I audibly swallowed.
"What's a 'bull'?" asked Claire, her face screwing up in a confused look.
"Why don't you ask your little slave? I'm going to get a refill." He lifted his glass up, shaking it slightly to show it was empty. He walked back to the party, my wife's eyes fixed on his behind as he wandered away.
That little encounter clearly got Claire's motor running - I know I found it insanely sexy. As soon as he was out of sight, she reached for me, grabbing my leash and pulling me into her. She just dove right in, kissing me with a crazed passion.
She already knew what I thought about it - she reached down with her hand, grabbing me dick, giving it a good squeeze. *Shit*, but she's hot!
"Ooo, God, baby, you liked that, didn't you? You liked me flirting with that big man?"
I couldn't even think about lying. "Oh Lord, yes! You're so fucking sexy!"
"Let's go find a room," she murmured, nibbling my earlobe, "I want to do *bad things* to my little slave!"
She just turned and led me back in by my leash, my balls aching.