Fiction: The Hunt Part 1

I can see the glint in your eyes as you watch me dress.

When we had risen from the bed an hour ago, sweaty and panting, I had no idea that you were going to let me indulge in quite this way. My voice and body must have broadcasted my need for this as you held my hands above my head during the quick brutal fuck that you had thrown me down on the bed for, almost seconds after you entered the hotel room.

For you I am a good little submissive, or at least I try to be. However, you know that at times I need something completely different.

You had me shower alone, and first. While you showered I folded your clothes onto a chair and straightened out the sheets on the bed while I was still naked. I figured that you would probably keep me naked except for a collar and chains but the toy bag was still by the door.

I heard the water shut off and I ran back to the bathroom. You got out of the shower where I waited with a towel to dry you off, then you grinned at me and said one word.

"Hunt."

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My own smile must have split my face in two. I carefully dried you off, not letting my enthusiasm threaten your gift by failing in my duties. When I started to lick your cock you gripped my hair and held my head back.

"Not now, kitten. It's time to get dressed. I have a new club to take you to and we want to avoid getting stuck in line."

You released my head and I sighed "Yes, Sir," and finished my task of drying off your body.

I opened the closet where my clothes hung and carried a few items to the bed. I then put my suitcase on the bed and open it. You've always been amused at the little costume collection that I carry to these visits, and how versatile it is. Then again, my concentration in my theater degree was acting and costuming.

You opened your suitcase and took out your own clothes. You must have planned this in advance because you only packed that dark green shirt when you want to go hunting. So maybe is wasn't my own needs after all that prompted this night's plan.

So now I'm hooking up the thin black silk stockings to the garter belt, the seams straight dark lines against my pale skin, while you sit in a chair by the window watching me.

I dress as quickly and efficiently as possible, but with the best image and looks in mind. The stockings hooked up, I put on the good bra and slide the black dress over my head. As it's settling around my hips I reach for the green corset that closely matches your shirt. I put in on loosely for now.

I then grab my makeup bag and head for the bathroom. When I'm done with my makeup, which isn't an easy task because of my coloring, I quickly spin my hair up and set it in place with hair sticks.

I come back into the room and ask, "Could you help me with the corset, Sir?" You nod and I walk up to you and turn around so my back and the line of laces are presented to you. With sure and practiced tugs you snug the corset tight. You don't tighten it that extra bit, so I know to expect movement of some sort- probably a dance club.

I then grab my little boots (with a wider heel than most granny boots have) and sit on the bed to put them on. You grab your own dress shoes and put them on now that we're about to leave. I quickly transfer needed items into the green purse I made to match the corset and grab a cut velvet shawl. You take it from my hands and drape it around my shoulders, then offer me your arm.

We arrive at the club early. Although if you hadn't said that it was a club that we were going to, I wouldn't have known it by looking at the outside of the building. The area is an old warehouse and mill district, and most of the buildings were converted to offices and a banquet hall. The lot you pulled the car into was smoothly paved, and the building is very stark and utilitarian. The guy on the door looks more like a high tech guard then just a club doorman, and he nods at you like a regular as we approach the door.

The music is a soft throb in the darkened room. It takes me a minute to adjust my eyes as you lead me down a set of steps to the inside bouncer. He asks to see my id, but not yours. You must have checked this place out, and did so in such a way that they already know you. You take my shawl and hand it to the lady in the cloak room. I'm surprised to see her wearing a very thin but elegant camisole instead of a dress.

My gaze lingers over her as we move away and too the bar, and she smiles at the appreciation. Her curves are just right for me, and you follow my gaze and chuckle.

"Having fun already, kitten?" You sound amused.

"Just testing the waters a little."

I push myself onto a bar stool and ask for a glass of Merlot. While you stand next to me and order your own scotch, I turn to survey the hunting grounds.

It's fancy without being flashy. It's early in the night, so there's only a couple of girls on the floor dancing. Fine cloth barely covers them, so much so that I almost think I'm over-dressed.

I shudder a little as your warm and scotch scented breath teases my ear. "I have a table waiting, it has even a better view of the dance floor."

There's a ring of booths around the dance floor, each one so enclosed that it's almost like a room with three walls. The seats are wide with velvet covered cushions. There's enough space to even fuck if we wanted, and the only ones who could see us would be
the dancers, but the lighting is dark enough to make that difficult.

You take my wine glass and settle me into a seat, then you sit next to me and slide my glass over. A slender waitress comes over to the table and sets down a small platter of fruit and two bowls- one filled with a dark chocolate sauce and the other holding whipped cream.

I reach over to take a strawberry and you take my hand. "Not yet... dance for me, kitten, first."

Fortunately, one of my favorite songs comes on, and it's hard not to dance. I scoot out of the booth and take the couple of steps up to dance floor.

I begin to move.

I realize if I bend over right, you and anyone else in a booth can see what panties I'm wearing, and the tops of my stockings. So I make a note of the layout of the dance floor and where our booth is- so if I give a show it's for you.

So I give you a show. I turn and flow and stretch and grind with the music as it shifts from song to song.

I move along the floor, checking out each of the women. As time goes by, more women and some men join the dancing. Some notice my attention and try to come onto me, but they don't have the right moves for this sort of hunting.

I'm about ready to yield the floor and take a break when I spot the target. She is a luscious redhead with porcelain skin that just begs to be marked. She moves right, like me, but with the touch of shyness that I used to have. Her body has the right curves and her mouth just wants to be kissed. I approach her slowly, our movements blending into each other until we're dancing with one another.

I like how she moves, slow and steady with a fire smoldering under her skin.

My right hand rests on her hip as she turns to face away from me, but rests her back against me. I slowly turn us so that we're facing you. My hand snakes around from her hip to splay against her stomach and I gently bite her ear.

It's almost too easy, I think as she shudders a little against my hand.

This song ends, and I'm reluctant to pull away. "I'm Grace. Come to my table for a drink?"