I knew he’d had a rough game. Half the other starters were out with injuries and I saw how Eric pushed himself to be everywhere, to pull his bench together. The whole game Coach took him out to rest up for all of about 5 minutes. Yet they managed to win. It was mostly him setting everyone up, like he’s good at, and the reason people keep talking NBA around him. He says those people don't know what they're talking about and he's missed his chance and he's too old, being a senior, and all kinds of other grumbling. Not to mention that when he knows there might be a scout around, he does weird things, like chokes or -- which is really odd for him -- fouls out of the game. I've given up nagging him about the basketball career. Let his friends deal with him and that.
Anyway, I went home before him while he did the shower and body care thing. I knew when he got home he’d be wanting to dump all that responsibility right away. He came in quietly, put his stuff away, and found me in the den. He looked tired, the good tired. Had that air of confidence -- that thing he does with his shoulders and the way he tosses his hair back, habits that spell self-satisfaction. He pulled his jersey off over his head and went to undo his pants. He wanted to be brand new on the floor, stripped of all ties to that other self -- the guy who holds everything together game after game.

“Uh-uh,” I said. “Not yet.”

Hand on his belt, he stood looking, well, not exactly puzzled, but like he would be puzzled if he’d had the energy. I gave him the look that dropped him to his knees, and almost instantly he fell forward to kiss my feet through the black nylons I was wearing.
Our ritual feels so comfortable now, but we never would have been the D/s couple we are if not for Andre and Nita opening up their relationship to us. We started as voyeurs. And over time, Nita's naked submission and Andre's Masterful hand sucked us in. Andre's a friend and practice buddy of Eric’s from way back, and somehow Andre knew we were meant for D/s before we did -- or at least before I did. He surprised us one day after inviting us over for dinner. We got there and Nita was naked on her knees at Andre's feet, pretty much the way Eric is before me right now -- only more naked. When I see Eric like this, I always remember that image, my “first time” witnessing the whole D/s thing. It was weird, cuz Andre hadn’t given us any warning. I could see Eric was all embarrassed, I mean his face flushing and kind of looking away from Andre's naked, kneeling girlfriend and, well, I just wanted to leave.
“Don’t mind her,” Andre had said.

“What’s going on?” Eric asked him.

"You know," Andre said. "She's my submissive." Then he looked over at me. “Trust me, my girl's loving this."

I wondered how much Eric did know.

Her back to us, the girl folded herself over her thin legs, and I could see her ass crack opening a little. I admit I stared. At the round of her small buttocks sitting on her heels, the mole she had on her peachy, translucent back, the thinness of her waist, the way her hips scooped outwards a tiny bit and you could see her pelvic bones through the muscle. Her ass skin was very soft. When I look back with the eyes of a practiced domme, I make assessments that would have shocked me at the time. Like how easily that backside would bruise if she were spanked or flogged. Of course at the time, such things were not in my vocabulary. Her shoulders were hunched submissively. Her golden brown hair fell over her shoulders and down. I was entranced, but not knowing what Andre had in mind, I was on edge and not totally able to enjoy her submissive beauty.

“Isn’t this kind of private,” Eric said to his friend. The two had played ball together since junior high school. And now Andre had some sort of a pro contract.
“Well, if it makes you uncomfortable...” he looked from Eric to me, and then down to his submissive. “Neets, why don’t you go get dinner ready.” She got up and padded naked into the kitchen. Being a ballet dancer; Nita walked with grace, carrying her slight body high and straight.
Her being out of my sight didn’t really make much difference. I could picture her there, her small, plump breasts dropping away from her rib cage as she bent over the stove, overhanging the burners like ripening fruit.
“Sorry,” Andre said. “We thought you two might be able to get some ideas.”

“Ideas for what?” Eric asked.

“You know you want to do this, Eric. Am I right? Didn't you say something about wishing you could convince Vanessa?"

I really wasn’t liking the fact that they had had such a conversation without my knowing it.

“But,” Eric started. Then he looked at me, awkwardly.

“Go on,” I said to him.

“Look I...this isn’t..."

“Well, you’re not going to get me kneeling naked at your feet,” I said, “So
you can both forget that.”

“I don’t think that’s what Eric has in mind,” Andre said to me before turning to Eric. "Is it buddy?"

But Eric was acting flustered and no use to the conversation. And the subject was dropped for a time while Andre tried to distract us with his home entertainment center and his trophy shelf. But the servant in the kitchen was the elephant in the living room. And when Nita called us into dinner, she was still stark naked. Her smallish breasts were sweetly rounded, and her thick nipples bounced lightly, reshaping as she walked. I stared at the deep rusty colored ring that tipped her breasts, thinking -- the way one thinks bizarre thoughts in the heat of arousal -- that I didn't expect such bold, seductive nipples on a dancer. One pictures delicate pin points, like rain drops (don't they?). Nita's bush was shaven, except for a runway that directed the eye to her clitoris. I couldn't help but notice. After all, she was reaching across the table with serving dishes right in front of me, naked as a baby. She set the plate of roast beef down, but I couldn't look at the plate with her plump breasts and their luxurious buttons jiggling right over it. When I tried to look away, my eye caught sight of the girlish camel toes of her beaver, just beneath the table top and above her long, thin, naked legs. I glanced at Eric then to catch him looking towards the floor, then talking to Andre across the room, and then finally, when he thought no one saw, he swept a quick glance along the length of Nita's body. When she served Andre, he'd squeeze a nipple and tug on it, just to remind her she was accessible to him. Nita didn’t eat at all while we were there. She spent the whole dinner serving us one by one. When she served Eric, getting really close, so he couldn’t help but drink in her soft, naked skin, he sort of froze, looking down. I remember all that now as Eric kneels at my feet, remember how he’d flushed as Nita’s bare nipple brushed his cheek. And Andre encouraged Eric: "Have a taste of those titties, if you want. Share and share alike." Eric tossed a sideways smile at Andre, but lucky for him, he didn't take advantage of the offer. Towards the end of dinner, Andre stood, rested one hand on Nita's shoulder, squeezed her breast with the other so that the tip flattened and the nipple bulged out. "Have a suck," he said wickedly. "Either of you." He pulled the end of the girl's tit from side to side, first towards me and then towards Eric. Shoulders back, that hussy was thrusting it towards us proudly. We both declined. I was infuriated because I still thought Andre wanted Eric to turn me into that sort of slave. I thought he was implying that Eric should share me and make me available to Andre the way he was making her available to us.

[to be continued…]