The neon sign beamed across the dim intersection; Rankin's Inn. He could barely remember anything about the girl that had led him here, but he remembered enough to go ahead and board the flight to Prague. Samuel was a lawyer at a prestigious firm in Boston when he met the girl of his dreams, Maribelle Bovna. She had had trouble with some sort of luggage at customs and sought his representation at the airport. He quickly arrived at her aide to notify the customs agents of their many legal infractions, and much to his surprise ended up with a date that night.
She was medium height with shoulder blade length black, striking blue eyes, and a terrifically well curved body. The thing that striked him most about her though was her cool sense of control and power. They left the airport and headed out in his vehicle to a local social bar. It burned a question inside of him what the items in question were at customs as he only read the report stating them as: Suspicious personal novelty items, but he wasn't going to blow his chances with this one by intruding on her privacy.
After that it was all pretty vague in hindsight. He had fallen for her mesmerizing stares and curious questions, and therefore agreed to see her again in her native country figuring he needed a vacation anyway. It was sporadic and spontaneous sure, but after seven years of college and three straight years of legal hoobajug he was ready to be naive.
Samuel stepped out of the cab kidde corner from the inn, and paid his fair in euros. He began wondering what he was doing after checking out the local landscape. There were obvious hookers working in front of the door at the inn, and the rest of the buildings at the corner were boarded up and out of business. That's strange, there are no windows at all at the inn, he thought to himself as he proceeded across the street ignoring thoughts in his head of fleeing.
"как около ноча на городке?" One of the hookers asked as she blew a kiss in his directions.
"I don't speak Czech," he replied as he held his hands to say I'm sorry I don't understand.
He knocked on the door twice. It was a steel door lit only by the red neon sign on the corner and a flickering caged bulb right above the door. An eye slot swung open on the door as two blue eyes blazed through the opening.
"Yes?" A woman's voice snapped from behind the door.
"I was looking for Maribelle," Samuel started as if to say something else.
"A moment," the woman replied as she slammed the slot closed.
A minute or two passed as Samuel waited outside this foreign door wondering if the woman even understood a word he had said. The silver circular doorknob began to turn as his heart rate rose..."Welcome home." Maribelle said with a curious tone.
Samuel took a moment to take her in as she was sporting a lovely sheer mini dress along with her hair done up in a tight bun. Her black eye shadow demanded attention as it contrasted greatly with her deep red lipstick. Welcome home I wish he thought to himself as he seemingly forgot where he was in the awe of her presence. She walked over to a leather sofa just inside the door against the near wall. He took a step in the room to join her and for a second lost himself in thought. It was odd that the inn was behind a half foot of steel at the doorway, and then proceeded by a fifteen by fifteen room with only two doors; the door he had just come through, and one against the opposite wall. There was dark wood paneling from floor to ceiling throughout the entire room and you could hardly notice either door if not for their knobs.
"Would you prefer to stand?" She asked in a playful manner.
"Sorry," he replied acknowledging his rudeness as he walked past a floor lamp to have a seat on an adjacent chair.
"So what do you think of Prague?"
"I've only just gotten here from the airport." He replied without much to say as he had dozed off in the cab, "but I'm enjoying the city so far."
"Good. Now we just have some paperwork to sort out before we can move forward."
Paperwork!? His mind raced; did I forget something back in Boston? No. We had an agreement signed along with the payment. What paperwork? Maribelle handed him a clipboard attached with some sort of contract, a slave contract. He glared over the title of the petition and then through a few of the paragraphs.
"I can tell I'm going to have to explain," she started, "I've been having you checked out ever since you joined my webring. It was no accident that I had an incident in Boston nor was it that you were contacted to settle the dispute. You have been eyeing the opportunity to serve a Mistress and now that you are in position to do so you act coy?"
His cock grew in his jean pants as he slipped his hand through his short brown hair. "But a contract?"
"It is imperative that I have your consent."
He thought a moment about the situation, but was eventually overwhelmed with desire as he signed the form.
"Ahem. I need your initials on all seven pages," Maribelle scorned.
"Sorry," he blushed as he flipped through inking his initials without paying a care to the literature.
"Wonderful," she said obviously pleased with his cooperation.
"Now I have to go file this quickly and while I'm gone I'd like you to strip and kneel in the center of the room understood?"
"Okay," was all he could muster for a response.
"Okay? I expect yes and no answers slave! And those answers better be followed by Mistress from now on got it?"
"Yes Mistress." He replied.
"Good, now get to," she responded as she left the room through the mysterious door.