A female best friend, Natalie, makes a bet with her male friend, Tim, about the outcome of a cribbage game. The loser must be the slave of the winner for 24 hours. She knows he has long had fantasies of female domination and licking the cum out of pussies but has never experienced it. She wins the game and to his surprise she tells him to lay back and submit to being tied up. She then does everything she can to make his fantasies come to life and also to take it a bit further than he would have ever dreamed. She ties him up tight and tells him he can get out of eating a cream pie if only he doesn't get hard. But if he does get hard she is going to ride him until her cums inside her and then sit on his chest showing him her pussy and what he's going to eat. She makes him lick every bit of cum from her pussy. She then tells him that it's time for the next part of his slavery. Tim is very good at pussy licking and assumes that she will want him to make her cum many times in his mouth. He is surprised when she blindfolds him and leaves the room

Chapter 5: The Unexpected Audience

There was only sound, only texture, only Natalie's soft, heavy weight on his chest and the second heartbeat of a pulse under her skin, pressed so close against his mouth. Blindfolded, he floated in the black velvet. He was adrift in the musk of her and the fading bitterness of himself on her skin, an aroma made somehow shamefully sweet in the closeness. He lapped at her, mind hollow, body buzzing. His jaw was tired but it was a worshipful ache, and the sounds she made, throaty little hums of deep approval, resonated through his entire skull.It was simple. Pleasure her. Prove it.

“Good, Tim. God, that’s good.”

His world condensed to the slick-slick-slick rhythm of his tongue, the firm pressure of her hips under his clumsy, pinned-down hands. He never had to think. The wild, frightened wonder of her being on top of him this way, using him this way, had become a low, proprietary burn—his purpose—and he could drown happily in it forever.

Then the creak of the floorboard near the door. Another presence. He felt more than heard it. The tiny change in the air.

Everything in him jolted. That panic-surge on the bus, cool air replaced with living, watchful silence. It resurrected all those frantic butterflies from his gut. He hesitated.

“Eyes on me. I didn’t tell you to stop,” she murmured, not shifting. Her fingers tightened in his hair. Encouragement and reprimand. He tried to fall back into it, but he was choking in the blackness, in the listened-to feeling saturating the room.

He heard her voice again. Not speaking to him. A whisper across the bed, full of conspiratorial heat.

“See?”

Another voice, Chloe’s, low and familiar, but threaded now with something else. “Jesus, Nat. He’s... really good.”

“I know.” A private smile. He could hear it in Natalie’s words.

Trapped under her, he wondered which face he should be wearing. A question embarrassed him, wholly wrong for this place he’d finally found. Then her hand, tangled in his, guided his cramped fingers away from her hip and laid them flat on the mattress. The loss of any small point of contact made his breathing hitch. Another ritual.Another guess. Then—a new, subtle coolness settled near his right hand. Slight pressure, fingertips. Chloe’s hand rested not on him, but beside him.A threshold. His muscles pulled taut as wire.

“He likes being watched,” Natalie whispered to Chloe, but loud enough for him to strain to hear. “He shivers all over. But it’s not just that, is it, Tim? It’s knowing you have an audience.”