The Party Sub, Part One

It was the first time I was wearing garters and I had bought entirely the wrong kind of stockings for them. They were thigh highs, but I was in such a rush that I didn’t ensure they would attach correctly to the bustier I was wearing. So, they took a while to force and my first few attempts were fruitless. By the time I reached the party, all but one had detached themselves.

I was incredibly nervous as Sir and I rounded the block towards the apartment. The past week, I had looked over the Facebook event and at the faces of people and how everyone seemed to know each other. I realized, aside from maybe three people that we knew, Sir and I would be walking into this cold. 

Otherwise, everyone seemed to know each other, seemed so unreasonably attractive, seemed to totally have their shit together. Sir and I were on the younger side for the group and both had some anxieties about entering into what seemed to be a pretty established little posse. 

The structure of the party was that prior to midnight we’d have time to mingle with people before the clothes came off and the fun began. But, I’m pretty awful at mingling, especially if there’s some kind of an agenda behind it. Not to say I had an agenda, but to say that it would be kind of hard to avoid that these people would be naked in a little over two hours.

“Don’t be so nervous, sweetheart,” Sir said as we approached the door. I fidgeted with the remaining strapped garter under my dress and it snapped off of the stocking. 

We buzzed ourselves in and started up the stairs. In front of the door was a rack for shoes and another for our coats. After we had shed both, I gave Sir a kiss and he reached out to knock on the door.