House Parties Ch. 01

Big Tits

Rosalie rolled her shoulders with a sigh, stepping back to observe the fruits of her labors of the past few hours. She hadn’t had much time at all between her arrival at the house — well, mansion, but she refused to think of it in that way because it was just too off-putting — and the party the owner of the house-mansion and the other tenants were putting on. The party she, as the newest ‘cook’, was responsible for catering to. Her best friend had gotten her the place to stay as a favor, with the slight caveat that she’d have to earn her keep.

By putting together finger food dishes.

There were worse ways to pay rent, she admitted. The trays were all ready, and she’d gotten a look at which tables were in the entertaining area of the house earlier in the day. Of course, earlier in the day it had been just her and Calli, who’d given her a brief tour. But while she was working in the kitchens beside her friend, she’d heard a few voices here and there as the other tenants — her housemates? — got home, and then in the past half hour even more voices as the partygoers arrived.

“Okay, I’m going to start bringing these out. You got the drinks?”

Calli gave her a thumbs-up and a cheery smile, her other hand wielding a corkscrew with no small measure of skill. “Most people should have glasses by now of the drinks we put out earlier, and they’ll finish by the time this—” She popped the cork and began pouring the wine into a decanter. “—airs out.”

Rosalie grabbed two of the trays and, taking a deep breath to steel herself for the host of strangers she was about to walk into, nudged open the door to the entertaining rooms. She kept her eyes on her goal: the various tables around the room. She’d never been one for crowds and house parties, and this crowd was exceptionally well-dressed. It was easy for her to slip around the people, honestly. She’d never been one to stand out, and though Calli had gotten her a fancy cocktail dress to wear, the apron on top of it set her firmly in obscurity as the help.

She successfully delivered the two trays she was holding and turned to go back to the kitchen. But she was too fast and bumped into someone she swore hadn’t been there a moment ago. Rosalie caught her footing, eyes tracking up long stockinged legs to a very tight pencil skirt to…

She froze, unable to believe her eyes.

Those were. Right in front of her. Completely out in the open, free and unfettered. ‘What in the world?’

Rosalie tore her eyes from the sight before her to look at the tall woman who had an eyebrow raised and a smirk on her face. “So sorry, excuse me.” She managed, stepping to the side to try and get around her.

“Oh, not at all, pardon me.” The woman responded with a smile that was probably meant to be relaxing. But even in her peripheral vision, Rosalie couldn’t help but see…No. She forced herself to focus on the woman’s well-defined features, impeccable makeup, carefully arranged hair that tumbled over her shoulders to better highlight her—

Rosalie didn’t stop walking until she was safely back in the kitchen, where Calli was still calmly uncorking bottles. She stood against the door, taking deep breaths as her mind sorted through whatever had just happened. “Calli?” Her voice was a squeak.

“Yeah?”

“You mind telling me, uh, why there’s a lady out there with her tits out? And no one seeming to pay any mind to that?”

Calli put down the bottle she’d been pouring to address her panicking friend, approaching her with hands held out. Her voice was low, soothing, like she was trying to talk to a skittish horse. “Okay, Rosie, remember earlier when I asked you to promise to keep an open mind?”

“Yes.” She responded, realizing with Calli’s response that she hadn’t just been imagining things.

“Just…” Calli put her hands on her shoulders, looking at her seriously. “I didn’t tell you because I knew you’d freak out. These cihangir escort parties are, uh…they’re for people involved in a certain kind of lifestyle.”

“Like swingers?”

The corner of Calli’s mouth quirked up. “Sort of. Some of them are. Most people come here to be entertained or even to take classes in their…sort of…lifestyle.”

“Just spit it out, Cal.” She needed to hear it. She had her suspicions, but she needed to hear it aloud.

“Okay. ‘Practitioners of BDSM.'” Calli answered, putting air quotes around the phrase and rolling her eyes. “All at varying levels of involvement, different desires, different comfort levels. They all pay the owner of this place to come here and see, learn, meet others with the same interests.”

Rosalie’s earlier concern that she was joining a cult flared, but she tried to think through it. Obviously Calli was worried about her reactions, which was why she’d made her promise to keep an open mind. She’d just…figured this would have been mentioned earlier. Like when Calli made the initial offer of a place to stay. It was the sort of thing you’d want to include on a “tenant wanted” sort of listing: “House puts on BDSM kink parties regularly, you may see some nudity.” Trying to keep her breathing steady, she glanced up at her best friend, whom she was starting to think she didn’t know as well as she’d thought.

“And…are you here for…”

“In a way.” Calli pulled Rosalie away from the door and handed her a glass of wine, which she downed. “Most of the other people who live here are interested in the lifestyle and have been for a while. In addition to their chores, many of them…help out at the parties. Teach people, put on shows, that sort of thing.” Rosalie’s eyes widened and she rushed to continue her explanation. “It’s completely voluntary. You’d never be asked to do it unless you wanted to, okay? As long as you keep them fed, you can put out trays and hide in here watching TV, and no one will care.”

Rosalie put down her glass, willing the alcohol to work its way into her system to calm her pounding heart. “Okay so…I’m living in a…BDSM sex house. Feeding people at a BDSM party.” She narrowed her eyes at Calli. “You could have told me before I moved in this morning.”

“Would you have come if I had told you? Even though you had nowhere else to go?” Rosalie frowned; the question stung, but it was rhetorical more than anything. Calli was right of course — she wouldn’t have agreed, and she’d probably be out on the street, living in her car. “Look, I know it’s a lot all at once. But everyone is super nice, and I’ve loved my time here. I know it’s maybe not what you were expecting, but you needed a place to live, and I was asked to find a new cook, and—”

Rosalie held up a hand, stopping her friend’s explanation flat. “Let me just…” She took the next two trays and turned back towards the door. “I know you mean well, Cal. You can go have fun at the party; I’ll finish up in here. I need time to think.” She didn’t wait for an answer before she walked into the party again.

Now that she was actually paying attention, she noticed quickly that the woman she’d bumped into was hardly the only person in a state of semi-undress. She saw two more women similarly dressed as she dropped off the third tray, and soon realized even the fancier outfits were either shockingly skin-tight or missing sections entirely. Back and forth to the kitchen she went, depositing more and more trays as she took it all in.

Tray number four was placed down next to a — yep, that was a woman being spanked over someone’s lap. And right next to her, a man getting the same treatment. The fleshy smacks and moans followed her as she moved on. Trays five and six were difficult; she had to push through a crowd that had gathered in a circle. At the center she found Antonio, the groundskeeper/butler she’d met mecidiyeköy escort earlier, and an unknown woman bent and tied down over what looked like the end of a couch. She wasn’t wearing much of anything besides a garter belt and thigh-highs, and the skin of her ass was already pink from (presumably) the flogger in Antonio’s hand. Rosalie tried to ignore the sounds of the leather striking skin, the woman’s heated groan, and the man’s calm explanation of how to properly ‘discipline’ with this sort of tool.

Tray seven was placed next to a woman in a blindfold kneeling at the feet of the woman she’d bumped into earlier, who had her by a leash and was parading her around. She wondered if she’d been too focused on her breasts to realize she had someone by a leash. Someone on a leash who also wasn’t wearing much but seemed to be quite enjoying herself — the wide grin on her face beneath the blindfold was obvious. Tray eight gave her a great view of a woman flanked by two men applying clothespins along her body, but even she was grinning. The woman met her stare with a smile and a wink, and Rosalie hurried away, a flush coming to her cheeks.

Luckily, the final two trays yielded nothing particularly shocking. Another spanking, though she was almost certain the man’s other hand was finding some interesting places in between the woman’s legs, from the way she was writhing and moaning. And then there was just…a blowjob. Right in the center of the room. It was loud and sloppy, and she rushed back to the safety of the kitchen.

Calli had, thankfully, listened to her, and was nowhere to be found. Rosalie turned on the sink to start heating up the water and gathered the dishes they’d used in preparing the food. And then she got to work, scrubbing each item carefully as she mulled over what she’d seen. Almost as an instinct she began to sing, something lively and jovial that echoed around the kitchen and helped drown out the moaning she heard outside.

It wasn’t anything new, not really. Rosalie had seen a variety of internet porn and had always been drawn to the interesting sights and theatricality of BDSM or bondage-themed porn. She wasn’t a practitioner herself and didn’t think she’d be joining in on the parties, but…it really must’ve just been the shock of seeing it firsthand, she surmised. She’d had a conservative upbringing and hadn’t even learned how to masturbate until she was in college. She’d had sex before, but it was all very vanilla. Not that I want anything else. Vanilla is fine. It’s nice. Not anything that ‘rocked my world’ like Calli always describes it, but…I’m fine.

The parties weren’t a deal-breaker. The house-mansion was lovely, her room was large and private and she had her own bathroom, and the only rent she had to pay was making food for kinky sex parties, apparently. There were far worse things, other paths her life might’ve taken that led to very different places. Here, she was also with her best friend, and she trusted that if Calli liked the other housemates, she would too.

Continuing onto the next verse of the song, Rosalie kept working and thinking. She’d gone through her own mini-concert by the time the dishes were all clean and drying, and she dried her hands. Calli had mentioned she could watch TV in here, so she turned to survey the room to look for a remote or really anything to entertain herself with.

“Holy shit!” Rosalie clapped a hand to her chest, jumping back against the counter in surprise as she came face-to-face with someone in the doorway: a man, just as well-dressed as the other partygoers, looking at her with a confused expression. He was tall, and she could tell even with his suit that he was well-muscled in the way that spoke of strength meant to be utilized rather than the cut forms of body-builders. Somewhat soft, just enough that she imagined he’d probably give great hugs. Between that, his dark hair and beard and kurtuluş escort his piercing green eyes, Rosalie thought she could stand to mingle at these parties if more people like him were at them. He had a slight smile to his lips and — she shook herself out of her thoughts, realizing she was being very rude. “Sorry, you startled me. I…most of the food should be out already, on the tables, for you guys. Has something run out?”

She stared dumbly until he responded, her fists clenching the apron. His voice was softer than she’d expected but still deep, and nice to listen to. Okay, snap out of it any time now, girl.

“No, I heard singing and had to follow it. Siren’s call and all that.”

Belatedly Rosalie realized he was giving her a compliment and looked down, losing a fight against the blush that rose to her cheeks. “Oh, uh, yeah. That was me. Just…sorry if I was bothering you guys, I don’t want to disrupt the…party.” Brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes, she tentatively tried to meet his gaze again. It was more difficult than expected. For some reason, his gaze seemed…heavy. Like he was gauging her, even with that half-smile on his face.

“I don’t believe the guests minded. I’m Matt; I live here.”

“Oh!” Rosalie rushed forward and reached a hand out, shaking his with vigor and smiling now that the initial awkwardness had passed, or so she hoped. She had to make a good impression on her fellow housemates, and this was her first chance. “Good to meet you, Matt. I’m Rosalie, the new cook, as you…probably already figured out.” If she’d thought he was tall before, standing right in front of him was making her reassess her understanding of the word. Had she ever met someone where she’d had to crane her neck this much before?

“Yes, I did put that together.” He nodded, a teasing lightness to his voice that she latched onto. Thank god he’s friendly; I’m about to die of embarrassment.

“Hmm, you’re very perceptive. Anyways yeah, the singing was me.” She stepped back and swept a hand out towards the door. “Well, I don’t mean to keep you from the party. I hear it’s a big deal in this place. Something about the super fancy hoity-toity owner of the house being big into kinky shit.”

Matt smiled again, this time a wide one that showed off his perfect, straight teeth. Focus, Rosalie. “Yeah I’ve heard that as well.” He took a few steps towards the door, then looked back to her. “Are you not coming?”

“Oh, it’s…not really my thing.” She couldn’t figure why her words sounded like a lie, one that brought another blush to her face. “Think I’m just going to lie low until the course is clear.”

“If you’d like, I can come let you know when the — how’d you put it? — ‘kinky shit’ is all over.”

“I think my friend Calli was planning to rescue me. She’s the one who failed to mention what exactly goes on at these parties before I walked right into it.”

Matt shook his head. “It’s a wonder you didn’t run screaming from this place.”

Rosalie just shrugged. “It crossed my mind, but at the end of the day, it’s hardly the worst sort of party. Everyone out there seems to be enjoying themselves. It is just not at all what I was mentally prepared for today. And, like I said, not really my thing.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t get scared away. Would’ve been a shame to lose another cook so fast. It was nice to meet you, Rosalie.”

“You too.” She said, and he was gone.

She slumped against the counter once he left. He was pleasant enough, but all her mind could think of was what exactly he’d be doing at the party. He didn’t seem the type to get spanked, but people could always surprise you. And she’d recently realized she was a terrible judge of character. The thought, and the memories it bore, darkened her mood considerably as she turned back to the empty room. Minutes later she’d found a certain button unveiled a television and she turned the channel to something mindless, something that would drown out the sounds of people very much enjoying themselves just outside the kitchen. But it wasn’t nearly enough to drown out all of it, and the sounds only conjured images of what could be causing them.

It was going to be a long night.

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