(3) Eastern Saturday

Listening: Visions of China - Japan - 1981

Dressed like a ridiculous person, somewhere between a ruined Barbie and a party hooker, I walked through the hotel lobby towards the street. My lord followed me at a distance to check, as he said, the effect of my outfit among the distinguished attendees of a Friday night on Gran Vía. I walked uncomfortably due to the cage and, embarrassed, looked at the ground. Some joker let out a whistling compliment, and Don Carlos burst out laughing. He gave me a hard slap on the butt and came down to my level, grabbing me by the leather collar. We walked quite a long way towards Callao until he told me to turn right down one of the side streets that have had a bad reputation since ancient times. Soon we found ourselves in front of the restaurant's entrance. A bright sign announced that we were entering the Palace of the Prawn (Oriental Cuisine).

“Your friends have already arrived; they’re waiting for you,” said the maître when Don Carlos asked for the reserved table. “Friends? Who are they, sir?” “My friends, Chocho; I’ll introduce you to them.”

The head waiter led us down a corridor decorated with lanterns to a small private dining room with a round table in the center. We were greeted with brief applause by the four men sitting down. Or should I say two men and two queens; that’s the only way to express the impression they made at first sight. Don Carlos made the introductions.

“Good evening, friends! I present to you my little whore; her name is Chocho…”

“Hello, Chocho, how are you?” several voices sounded at once.

“…And these are my friends, Don Roberto and Don Andrés, who come accompanied by their little whores…”

“Conchita,” said one of the queens, short, hairy, and plump, with gray mustache and made up like a folk singer. She wore a very tight red polka dot suit and a matching leather collar like mine.

“...and I am Xumina,” said the other, younger and more attractive. She was very slim and wore a fitted sleeveless black dress. And also the red collar.

Conchita was Don Roberto's little whore and sat next to him. Don Roberto was a man of about sixty well-lived years. He had gray hair with receding temples and mesmerizing blue eyes. Don Andrés, on the other hand, appeared to be around forty, was athletic, and had a deep tan, undoubtedly from sunbathing at the beach. Both wore casual sports clothing.

“Well, if we’re all here, let’s have dinner!” concluded Don Carlos. He invited me to sit next to him. The waiters began to bring various delicacies, and soon the table was covered with all types of exotic dishes. I noticed that none of the little whores had any cutlery. Only the masters had glasses and cups, plates, knives, spoons, and forks. Don Carlos realized I missed them. “You won’t need cutlery, sweetheart; you’ll see.” He poured a little wine into his glass, a little into a water glass. He spat a good loogie into the glass and offered it to me.

“Let’s toast, my friends!! To True Love!!” Roberto and Andrés repeated the loogie operation into their wine, and we all clinked our glasses and cups in the center. “To True Love!!” I drank my portion in one gulp. It was a fairly good Ribera del Duero, and the loogie tasted glorious. I was hungry.

I soon realized that the game consisted of the masters feeding us little whores. From time to time, they would gobble a piece of chicken or some shrimp, chew and salivate the food, and then pass it into our mouths with a kiss. Only in this way did we have the right to eat.

The dinner went pleasantly, with laughter and obscene anecdotes from the three gentlemen; the girls fell silent unless asked. The wine and the loogies flowed abundantly.

“Gentlemen, the time for dessert has arrived!!” said my lord. The others applauded. “The fortune cookies will decide who receives from whom.” A waiter entered the dining room with a tray holding three ice cream cups and three fortune cookies. Don Carlos chose chocolate ice cream, Don Roberto strawberry, and Don Andrés vanilla. The cookies were given to the queens, one to each. “Come on, come on... Open the cookies!”

I took a small bite of my cookie, and a paper came out: “Strawberry,” I said, not quite understanding what was happening. “Vanilla!” screamed Conchita, happily. “And I’m chocolate,” finished Xumina. Intrigued, I cast a pleading glance at my lord. He sighed briefly and whispered in my ear: “You have to give Don Roberto a blowjob. Try to make an effort; he takes a long time to finish, and if he gets angry, he’ll hit you. Try not to graze with your teeth.”

The three whores knelt at the feet of the lucky ones, who lowered their pants, revealing three magnificent cocks, still at half-mast. I carefully took in Don Roberto's penis, which seemed pleased with my service. From time to time, he would pull it out of my mouth and give slow, wet licks to his hanging balls. It was hard work, and my jaw already ached from so much sucking cock, but at one moment I heard his groans; the penis reached its maximum tension in my mouth, and a fountain of thick hot cum flooded my mouth and throat. “Swallow it all, whore!!” roared the lord. A delicious dessert.

“Bravoooo!!” shouted the others, who had already cum long before. Their whores remained kneeling, licking up cum. “Now let’s have some drinks, shall we?” suggested Don Andrés.

They called for the check from the waiter, paid leaving a generous tip, and linked our collars with matching leashes. We went out onto the street like three bitches walked by their masters.