The BDSM Night That Began Under a Table

It all started as a birthday date that was supposed to be simple in theory: dinner, wine, and sex at the end of the night, like so many times before. I had already been seeing Darío for months, a man who wasn’t my partner but knew my body better than several serious boyfriends I’d had. There was no need for us to pretend innocence. We both spoke plainly, liked to fuck without too much fuss, and shared a fantasy that came up every time we were together: doing it in public, feeling the risk, the pressure of being discovered, the wetness between my legs mixed with fear.

That night we met at an elegant restaurant downtown, one of those places with low lighting, fine glasses, and waiters who seemed to glide silently between the tables. I wore a tight black dress, no bra, with my back almost completely bare. He showed up in a dark suit that emphasized his shoulders and gave him an even more arrogant air, as if he already knew he was going to end up ordering me around.

“You look dangerous,” he said as soon as he sat down across from me.

“And you look like trouble,” I replied, slowly crossing my legs.

During dinner we talked about anything but sex, though desire was there beneath every glance. He brushed my foot with his under the table. I moistened my lips with wine and watched him follow the gesture. The first bottle went quickly. The second loosened our bodies and our prudence even more. I began to feel that familiar heat in my belly, that tingling between my legs that made me bolder than usual.

Then he rested his elbows on the table, tilted his head slightly, and smiled.

“Want to try dessert?” he murmured. “I have something down here I know you’ll like more than any cake.”

I felt the jolt of arousal immediately. I didn’t have to think about it. I looked around, pretended I was searching for something, and discreetly ducked beneath the long tablecloth. My heart was beating so hard it made me a little dizzy. From below, the world was a mixture of expensive shoes, shadows, chair legs, and the dense smell of freshly ironed linen. I unfastened his pants and pulled out his already-hard cock, heavy and hot, almost ready for my mouth.

I held it in one hand and gave it the first lick from bottom to top, slowly, enjoying the way he tensed in his chair. Then I parted my lips and took it into my mouth little by little, feeling its thickness against my tongue. I moved carefully so I wouldn’t bump the table, sucking him at a steady rhythm while cutlery and other people’s conversations continued above us. It drove me crazy. Knowing that people were dining mere inches from my head without imagining that I was kneeling there swallowing a cock soaked me more thoroughly than any caress.

He grabbed my hair beneath the tablecloth, not roughly, but firmly. I couldn’t see his face, though I could imagine his jaw clenched.

“That’s it, good girl,” he said in almost a whisper. “Take more of it.”

I obeyed. I pushed it in until it brushed my throat and I had to breathe through my nose. I drew it out slowly, let my saliva coat it, and sank back down. I alternated long sucks with kisses on the tip and little licks around it. His hand at the nape of my neck guided the rhythm. My pussy was already burning, clenching just from hearing him restrain himself in that chair, motionless from the chest up while I worked beneath the table like a hungry bitch.

It didn’t take him long to come. I felt his thighs jerk, his cock hardening for one more second before releasing in my mouth. I swallowed everything without pulling away, then cleaned him with my tongue. I stayed down there a few seconds longer, breathing deeply, wildly aroused, wishing the tablecloth would disappear and everyone could see what I had just done.

When I sat back up, he looked at me with a hard, controlled expression—the look of a man who was nowhere near finished. He wiped his mouth with his napkin as if nothing had happened.

“Ask for the check,” he said.

We were out in less than two minutes. As soon as the restaurant elevator doors closed, he pounced on me. He cornered me against the mirrored wall and slipped his hand beneath my dress without asking permission. His fingers traveled up my thighs until they found my soaked panties.

“Fuck, you’re dripping,” he whispered in my ear.

He slipped two fingers beneath the fabric and rubbed my clitoris with the precision that always undid me. I let out a muffled moan and grabbed his tie. He smiled, yanked my panties down with one sharp pull, and tore them from my legs.

“I’m keeping these.”

The doors opened right afterward. We left the elevator as if nothing had happened, though my legs were trembling and my pussy was bare beneath my dress. In the parking garage he opened the rear car door for me. I hesitated for a second, but his look made it clear that this wasn’t an invitation, but an order. I got in. He climbed in behind me and engaged the lock.

As soon as the door closed, he pushed me onto the seat. His mouth descended to my neck while one hand spread my legs and the other rubbed my clitoris hard and fast, without tenderness. I arched my back and reached for his cock through his pants, hard again. He kissed me hungrily, thrusting his tongue into my mouth until he cut off my breath, then lowered his hand and drove two fingers into my pussy at once.

“I want to hear you,” he told me. “I want you to come in my hand before I show you your present.”

He started fucking me with his fingers while squeezing my clitoris with his thumb. The seat creaked beneath my body. I spread my legs wider, desperate, moving my hips to seek more friction. I bit his shoulder when I felt the orgasm rising quickly.

“Don’t stop… don’t stop, fuck…”

He sped up. His fingers slid in and out, wet and deeper each time, and when I came it was with an intense jolt, soaking his hand and trembling through my moans. He barely let me recover before licking his fingers in front of me, holding my gaze.

“That was only to whet your appetite.”

He moved into the driver’s seat and started the car. I was still breathing hard, still without panties, my dress bunched halfway up my thighs. Halfway there, he opened the glove compartment and handed me a strip of black fabric.

“Put it on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To a private club.”

“Darío…”

“Trust me and obey.”

Those two words went straight through me. I put on the blindfold. The rest of the journey was silence, the engine, and my imagination running wild. I could feel the pulse between my legs and the memory of his fingers still inside me. When the car finally stopped, he got out, opened my door, and took my hand. The air outside was cooler. I walked guided by his voice and the pressure of his fingers around my wrist.

“Slowly. That’s it. Don’t speak.”

I heard soft music, murmurs, laughter, and then unmistakable sounds: moans, smacks, hurried breathing, the rhythmic thudding of bodies fucking nearby. My pussy began to throb again as soon as I understood where we were. He positioned me against a padded vertical surface. I felt him lift my arms and fasten soft cuffs around my wrists, leaving me immobile.

He kissed me for a long time, dirty and hungry, as if he wanted to leave me breathless before revealing the scene. Then he removed my blindfold.

A large room opened up before me, lit with dim red and golden light. There were sofas, a huge bed in the center, side bars stocked with bottles, and people everywhere. Adult men and women, naked or half-naked, drinking, watching, sucking, fucking. Some couples put themselves on display without shame. Others watched as though they were in a private theater. Waiters and waitresses passed with trays of drinks and an obscene naturalness. Everything smelled of expensive perfume, alcohol, and sex.

Darío stood in front of me, already out of his suit, wearing only tight dark briefs stretched over his hard cock.

“What is this?” I asked, though the answer was obvious.

“Your present,” he said. “Your fantasy placed right in front of you. You like being watched. You like obeying. Tonight you’re going to stop pretending you don’t.”

I swallowed. I wasn’t afraid. I was aroused to the point of pain.

A short-haired woman in high heels and a black mask approached. She whispered something in his ear. Darío nodded without taking his eyes off me. The woman slipped her hand inside his briefs and pulled out his cock, completely rigid now. She began jerking him slowly, with a professional confidence that made me burn with jealousy and arousal at the same time. I was cuffed, forced to watch another hand touch him. To watch another mouth approach the tip and barely lick it. To watch him enjoy the provocation while his eyes remained fixed on me.

“Learn,” he said. “Look at what you miss when you don’t obey.”

The woman sped up. Her hand moved up and down, coated in saliva, squeezing him harder. He let out a growl and came in several pulses, spilling over her hand. I squeezed my thighs helplessly. I wanted to be on my knees swallowing him myself. I wanted that orgasm to be mine.

The woman withdrew without a word. Darío came back to me with a small vibrator in his hand. He pressed it over my dress, right against my clitoris, and switched it on. I almost screamed when I felt the direct vibration through the fabric, brutal after so much tension. I tried to move, but the cuffs stopped me.

“You’re going to behave like my obedient slut,” he murmured against my mouth. “If I tell you to come, you come. If I tell you to stop, you stop. Understood?”

“Yes,” I answered, my voice broken.

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, understood.”

He lowered the zipper of my dress and let it fall at my feet. I stood completely naked except for my heels, exposed before that room full of strangers. Several people turned to look at me. A man on a sofa smiled. A couple continued fucking without taking their eyes off me. Shame rose over my skin, transformed into unbearable heat.

Darío knelt in front of me and spread my legs wider with his hands. He kissed my mound, then the insides of my thighs, and finally buried his tongue in my pussy with delicious violence. He didn’t start gently. He started as if he wanted to force an orgasm out of me. His tongue penetrated me and immediately rose to my clitoris, licking it in hard, wet, insistent circles. I tugged instinctively at the cuffs, searching for something to hold on to.

“Fuck… yes… like that…”

He hooked one of my thighs over his shoulder and slipped two fingers inside me, opening me as he continued eating me. They went in and out soaked, curling exactly where he knew they would make me lose control. The entire room disappeared for moments. Only his tongue, his fingers, and the obscene sound of my pussy against his mouth existed.

He raised the vibrator to my clitoris, moved it away, nipped me lightly, then licked me again with greater force. It was a delicious punishment. He brought me to the edge of orgasm and yanked me back, again and again, until I was on the verge of tears from frustration.

“Please… let me come…”

He lifted his head. My wetness gleamed on his chin.

“Ask properly.”

“Please, let me come. I want to come on your face.”

He smiled as if that was exactly what he wanted to hear. He went back between my legs, and this time he didn’t let up. Tongue on my clitoris, fingers deep inside me, a steady rhythm without pauses. My abdomen tensed completely. When I exploded, it was with a loud moan I couldn’t contain, my legs trembling, my body contracting over his mouth while he kept licking me to draw out every last spasm.

Only then did he release my cuffs. I fell forward, dizzy, and he caught me.

“We’re not finished yet,” he whispered in my ear.

He led me to the bed in the center of the room. I climbed onto it in a trance, aware that people were watching me. He placed me facedown, spread my legs, and pulled my buttocks apart with one hand. First I felt his lubricated fingers massaging my ass patiently. Then the tip of one finger entering slowly. Then a second. I breathed deeply, relaxing as he had taught me on other occasions.

“That’s it, open up for me.”

He added more lubricant, working my anus unhurriedly while rubbing my pussy in front with his other hand. It was a brutal combination: my ass slowly opening while my clitoris still throbbed, sensitive after the orgasm. When I felt the tip of his cock pushing, I gripped the sheet with my fists.

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I turned my head. He held my jaw for a second.

“You’re going to take all of it.”

He pushed slowly at first. The head entered, drawing a tense moan from me. I stopped and breathed, and he waited just long enough for my body to yield. Then he continued sinking in, inch by inch, until he was completely inside my ass. I felt that hard, invasive, perfect fullness. I wanted to push myself back to take more, and he understood the signal.

He began fucking me with slow, deep, deliberate thrusts. Every withdrawal left me empty; every entry filled me again to the hilt. My pussy dripped onto the sheet. In front of us, a woman was masturbating as she watched. Off to one side, a man caressed his partner’s breast without taking his eyes off my ass receiving Darío.

“This is how I wanted you,” he growled. “Open, on display, and moaning for everyone.”

He increased the pace. His hands dug into my hips and he began pounding me harder. The slap of his balls against me, the wet sound, the pull of every thrust—it all became animal. I moaned without filtering anything. At times he reached my clitoris from beneath and rubbed it while continuing to fuck my ass, and that left me completely dazed.

He flipped me over in one sharp motion and put me on my back. He lifted my legs and placed my ankles over his shoulders. From that position he penetrated my ass again, even deeper. I could see his focused expression, his tense jaw, the sweat on his chest. He leaned down, sucked one breast, lightly bit it, then moved up to my mouth and kissed me while continuing to fuck me mercilessly.

“Tell me you like it.”

“I love it.”

“Tell me who that ass belongs to.”

“You.”

“Louder.”

“It’s yours. Fuck me harder.”

That was enough to unleash him. He pounded me so hard the bed squeaked. All I could do was open myself wider, take him, feel the orgasm building again from the combination of controlled pain, exposure, and the filthy pleasure of obeying him in front of everyone. I slipped two fingers between my legs and began rubbing my clitoris while he continued thrusting in and out of my ass.

“Don’t stop,” he ordered. “I want to watch you come while I wreck that ass.”

I did. I rubbed myself quickly, desperately, and came again with him still buried to the hilt. My body closed in spasms around nothing, because he was fucking me in the ass, and even so the sensation shook me from head to toe. I screamed without caring who heard.

He pulled out at the last second and made me kneel at the edge of the bed. His cock was shiny, hard again, wet with lubricant and me. He grabbed my hair and held it in front of my mouth.

“Open.”

Obeying came naturally. I took it with my tongue and lowered myself as far as I could. At first he pushed slowly, setting the pace, using my mouth as if he still wanted to test how much I could take. I sucked, swallowed saliva, and let the pressure of his hand at my nape guide me. With one hand I caressed his balls and with the other I touched my pussy, still soaked, while I felt several eyes on me.

“That’s it, swallow it. Good girl.”

He fucked my mouth faster. Every thrust made my eyes water, but far from bothering me, it aroused me even more. I pulled him out for a moment to lick his entire length, then took him back in, tightening my lips around him. He growled and hauled me up to sit me on his lap.

This time I guided him into my pussy myself. He slipped in easily, straight inside, because I was completely open and wet. I began riding him with long, slow movements at first, feeling him fill me from the front after he had wrecked my ass. My hands rested on his shoulders as I rose and fell on his cock. He looked at me as if he were gazing at something that truly belonged to him.

“Look at yourself,” he said, pointing to a side mirror.

I turned my head and saw myself riding him, naked, disheveled, mascara running and skin flushed. I saw myself as he saw me: shameless, hungry, submissive because I wanted to be, not because I was being forced. The image aroused me even more. I began moving faster, bouncing on his cock with trembling legs.

He held me by the waist and began driving me up and down. Every collision made my breasts bounce, made me gasp, made me wet him more. He leaned me backward and pinched my nipples while continuing to thrust into me. I could no longer maintain the rhythm on my own, but I didn’t want to stop. I only wanted to keep tasting, keep being watched, keep feeling that there was not a single limit to my desire that night.

“I want to come inside you,” he said.

“Do it.”

He lifted me slightly and let me drop back onto his cock several times in a row. I felt him harden to the maximum and, a second later, the hot release inside me. He kept thrusting while he came, his face buried in my neck, breathing like an exhausted animal. I came once more almost at the same time, squeezing him with my pussy, trembling on top of him until I had no strength left.

We stayed like that for a few seconds, pressed together, sweaty, breathing deeply amid the noise of the club. Then we moved apart to have a glass of champagne. I sat naked beside him, my legs still spread, feeling some of his come leak out of me and experiencing a delicious embarrassment at knowing it might be visible. He wiped me with his fingers and brought them to his mouth as if it were the most ordinary gesture in the world.

“Was the present worth it?” he asked.

I looked at him and smiled. My throat was still irritated, my ass sensitive, and my entire body throbbing.

“If this was the club,” I told him, “next time I want to see what you save for an ordinary night.”

He chuckled under his breath, kissed me, and put his jacket over my shoulders to cover me a little while I caught my breath. I don’t know how much longer we stayed there, watching and letting ourselves be watched, drinking and touching each other again from time to time. What I do know is that night stopped being a fantasy repeated in whispers. Ever since then, whenever I see a long tablecloth, a closed elevator, or a car door opening in front of me, I remember exactly how it all began and how I finally became the obedient slut I had always wanted to be.