Confessions from the Velvet Table

Part III: The Unspoken Ending

After the reveal, the lights dimmed further. Candles glowed lower, deeper, hungrier.

The table stayed warm; the women stayed flushed; the air thickened with everything unsaid.

The others turned their attention back to Serena, to each other, to the decadent ruin of dessert and desire spread across the table.

Scarlett, always hungry for a tasty treat, climbed on to the table at Serena’s feet. Nibbling, licking, slurping, she slowly made her way up to her thighs. Serena moaned, arching her back a little and widening her legs. Violette also wanted to help clear the table. She licked at Serenas nipples, teasing them with pieces of fruit dipped in cream then licking it off. Serena softly moaned at the pleasure of two women enjoying her.

Violette reached across Serena, her firm left breast dangling seductively into Serenas mouth. Serena couldn't resist the temptation, she used her left hand to caress and invite Violettes body forward, while her right hand played in Scarletts hair as she made her way further up her thighs.

Bella stood watching the women, mesmerised, dress oozing down her shoulders, her hands down her pants again. Aurelia padded over to Bella, whispered something in her ear, and slid the dress up over head. Aurelia kneeled in front of Bella, tug pretty little g-string down and inserted her tongue. Gently savouring the sweet juice running down Bella’s leg. Moving her fingers ever so gently so she didn’t disturb Bella’s ogling of the two girls on the table.

Beautiful chaos. I could have drowned in it.

He stepped towards me. I didn’t step back. The room folded around us.

His finger traced my jaw, down to my chin, brushing lightly over my lips. His eyes flicked to the writhing scene on the table, then back to me.

He unzipped his trousers.

For a moment, I felt the pull, the temptation to let the night swallow us whole.

I hesitated. Did I want to surrender to this man? Could I leave him standing there, like a handshake not returned?

I wanted him. I couldn’t deny it.

I had played the game; now there was a prize on offer.

But I am not a prize.

I reached in and found his cock hard, already waiting.

I coquettishly licked the head, stroked my fingers up and down his shaft, cupping his balls, teasing, sucking just the tip.

He enjoyed the assumed power of standing over me with his cock out.

And yes, dear Diary, I was hungry for him and had been lusting after him all night, but I refused to let him get away with that absurd arrogance.

I took his hands, guiding them towards my chest.

Instinctively, he reached.

I stopped him, holding his hands in place.

Slowly, I rose, wiped the corner of my mouth with the back of my hand and met his gaze with a look that froze him mid-breath.

I leaned in and whispered:“If you think you get to take me like a prize, you’ve misread the entire night.”

The room stilled.

Leonard drew a sharp breath. No woman had ever denied him like that; you could see it in the brief stiffening of his shoulders before they loosened, like he didn’t know whether to laugh or fall apart.

He stepped back. I touched his chin lightly and murmured:

“I don’t surrender. I choose.”

He shook his head in disbelief, a slow smile finally creeping in as he nodded, accepting the correction.

I didn’t undress for him. I didn’t climb into his lap. I let the night reclaim me.

My dress dropped as I moved away, the leather corset catching the candlelight like armour.

I stepped onto the table and joined the others, a delicious tangle of women, laughter, fruit and cream.

A decadent mess of dessert and desire, on our terms.

The butler quietly removed empty plates and stray glasses, handing out napkins as needed. Perfect discretion in the midst of exquisite chaos.

Leonard sagged into his chair at the head of the table, half-ruined, half-reverent, watching us with an expression made of hunger and awe.

For once, he wasn’t directing the evening. He was simply witnessing it.

The butler glided to his master and, with practised efficiency, undressed him, folding each piece of clothing meticulously.

Naked, Leonard settled back in his chair and began to stroke his cock.

Having had enough of my heavenly desserts, I strode down to his end of the table.

The butler supported me as I stepped down off the table.

I stood before Leonard, smeared with chocolate, cream and fruit.

I pushed him back into his seat and straddled him.

We looked into each other’s eyes, power flickering between us like current.

I rose slightly and tilted my hips, his cock pressing against my wet, dripping pussy.

One breath of anticipation, a heartbeat of hesitation as I gathered my power back to me, and then I slid down his length.

He inhaled sharply and let out a low moan.

He grabbed my arse, lifting me slightly, fucking up into me with quick, urgent strokes. Disastrously pleasurable.

Passion ripped through me, burning away thoughts of gameplay. I needed more.

Cupping his face, I kissed him deeply while he thrust in and out of me, faster now, the tempo building.

I took my weight, planting my feet more firmly, his cock still buried inside me.

I reached down and wrapped my hand around his shaft, riding just the tip, building a dangerous rhythm.

My thumb knuckle pressed hard against my clit. The combination of the fullness inside, pressure outside left me gasping.

His breathing quickened to a low rumble.

Our bodies screamed for release.But not yet.

I let go and stopped moving. Standing now, the butler took my hand as I stepped off his lap.

Questions flashed across Leonard’s face, until he saw me bend over the table, legs spread wide, begging without words.

He came up behind me, pushed his cock back inside and began moving ever so slowly. Teasing. Playing. Rebuilding the charge.

I moaned, gasping for air and release.

He smiled again, reclaiming the illusion of power.

I screamed, demanding he fuck me, fuck me hard.

He slid a hand between my thighs, a finger pressing into my soaking mound. He found my clit immediately and I let out a raw moan.

He kept playing, circling my clit while his cock slid in and out, slow then faster.

The crescendo built and built inside me.

Heat surged through me; my pussy spasmed and I screamed as I came.

Feeling the convulsions around his cock, he moved faster, pounding harder.

He groaned, pulled out, grabbed his shaft and sprayed my back with hot spurts of cum.

We collapsed against the table, breathless, bodies still pulsing.

The butler approached, handed Leonard a napkin and gently cleaned my back.

The chaos on the table paused. The women paused to watch our spectacle at the end of the table, then, within a heartbeat, returned to their messy, noisy play, giggling and squelching.

Leonard sagged into his chair.

I took a glass of wine from the butler and fell back into my own chair to watch the fun.

The rest is hazy. Music fading, women wiping each other down, giggling as they did, the butler supplying warm cloths and fluffy towels.

Contented smiles. Dresses restored. Shoes and bags collected.

Private cars whisked us home, full of good food and very bad behaviour.

Being the murderer has never been such a pleasure.

And if Leonard invites me back for another round of this exquisite madness? I’ll commit the crime again. Gladly. Recklessly. With motive to spare.

If I can walk properly tomorrow ;)

Miranda xox