Hotel Room 715

Your instructions were explicit. You were to wear that tight dress. The black one that revealed more than it hid. You are comfortable with your body, but this dress always made you feel self-conscious. He knew it. You were supposed to sit at the bar and flirt. This is what a good slut does. Flirts and teases.

One drink was brought over compliments of the two 20 somethings sitting across from you. You wave them over for some small talk. You don't care what they are even saying. You just love the attention. One of their hands is on your thigh, another on your back. You are in bliss. The attention is what you need, you crave.

You look at the time. It is near. You grab your bag and kiss each passionately good bye. Each of them wanting more. They coerce and cajole, but you keep walking to the elevator. They were a mere footnote of your night.

You run through the list again in your head. Those instructions. Hoping you don't miss a detail. You slide the key card in the door and it unlocks. The room is lit, but just dimly. Shades are drawn. You take a quick glance around, but you can't linger. Items are out of place, but you can't think about why. You quickly undress. You pull it over your head and hang the dress up in the closet. You notice, placed on the bed, your cuffs. You attach them. First to your ankles, then your wrists. Then you put the collar on and finally the blindfold.

Darkness is all around you now. No time to waste. You kneel. Up off your legs. Hands interlocked behind your head. Knees apart. You wait. Your heart beats heavy. That's the only sound you hear. Then the air conditioner kicks on. It is loud. You think you hear and feel movement, but you are unsure. You wait.

You fear, you anticipate. You know you are protected, but yet you still fear. Then you feel it. A warm breath. Behind you. On your shoulder. That sends a shiver down your spine and a drip down your leg. Anticipation is really heightened. Your body is wound tight. Turned on. Begging for release.

Still just that breath.

Finally, he runs his index finger up your spine, circling your ear, then tracing your jaw and lips. Interrupted by that sensual touch, you feel a nipple pinched. Not by a hand, but something else, something immovable. Then just as quick, the other is pinched. This pleasure/pain is starting to intensify.

"Up", is the only word said. You rise, still in your heels. One hand is grabbed. While his other hand, placed on your back, directs you to the bed. Then you are pushed down, face down. Taking your breath away. Before you know it, your arms are pulled and stretched to the sides of the bed. You hear clicks. Then the same goes for your ankles. You dare not struggle, but you can still feel the restriction these restraints hold on you.

Suddenly you feel your mistake. Your thong is being pulled tightly up your body. Creating a slight discomfort in your ass and pussy. Snip, snip. Your favorite pair were now shreds. He said, "Open!" As soon as you start opening, your head is yanked back, then they are shoved in your mouth and tape is placed over your mouth. "You stupid cunt can't even follow simple directions!"

Your heightened fear is back. You can't explain. Can't apologize. Suddenly, something is placed and taped on your ears, then you hear it. Music. Music to drown out any noises. You can only hear the music. The thump of the bass pounding in your ear. You try to hear something else, but all you hear is music.

What is happening? Thinking is happening. Anticipation has over run fear again. Waiting. Wondering. Feeling the wetness again. This is what you wanted. This is what you thought about. But this isn't truly what you wanted. Fantasy and reality are rarely equal. You feel excited, a little scared, and really turned on. How can that be? How can fear and excitement...Smack, smack, smack..

You feel the hand coming down on your ass. Left, right, left, right.

He alternates each hit. Each blow. You lost count and your breath. It is rhythmic. Back and forth. The pain is constant on both cheeks.

Quick, short breaths. quick short hits.

You hear sound, background garble. It is music, but you can't hear it, just the roar of something.

You strain to see, not a speck of light is emitted. The mask is getting wet. Tears must be flowing and making the mask cling tighter. You struggle to catch your breath. the gag prevents anything from coming out.

No breath. No scream. No peep.

You concentrate on breathing through your nose. It is difficult. Now a stream comes out of your nose, from the crying and its effects. But still he continues. Left, right. left, right.

Then in a flash it is done. The music is turned off and the tape is ripped from your mouth. Tearing across your mouth. You hear, "Spit". You dislodge your soaked and torn panties from your mouth. He asks, "Green, Yellow, or Red". You gulp. You don't want to disappoint, you can't think clearly. "Green!", you say. "As you wish. This will now be for forgetting to remove your panties," said without any emotion.

The gag stays off. You take in the air. Trying to catch it. You hear music again. You still can't see. It was never touched. Why can't I see? Why can't I say no? Why am I dripping wet? This spanking is...SMACK, SMACK, SMACK

This stings more than his hand. Sharper, more concentrated. It hurts. You bite your lip. You bear down, waiting for the strike. It is slower in rhythm than his hand, but it is still a rhythm. Now though, the strikes hit both cheeks simultaneously. He is moving the hits up and down instead of side to side. Each hit hurts more than the last. 5, 10, 15. You are counting and are hoping this number stays low. It hurts and your body is being broken. Broken down. Your sniffles start, but quickly you are crying. Then crying out in pain. You beg, "Please stop." But he continues.

You have broken down completely. You are crying uncontrollably. You hate this. Why won't he stop. Each hit, something escapes you. Each hit, another insignificance melts away. You shout, "Yellow". He slows. He pauses. Your heart thumping, your body convulsing. The next hit, slower, but still continues. How much more can you take. You don't know how you can take anymore, but you do. He knows. He knows you more than you know you.

And then he is done. It has stopped, but you haven't. Your body is still reacting to the hits that aren't happening. He turns the music off and takes the headphones off. He caresses your face. He wipes your nose. Then he caresses your pussy. Soaking the sheets underneath you. How can you be turned on? Emotions all over the place. How can you be wet? How can his touch feel so good? You resist. You want to come down, but now he is trying to take you to another level.

Your mind says no, but your body lies. His hand is touching that spot. He knows where it is. That area that makes you melt. With both hands he rubs there and your clit. You are quickly in a heightened level. You are gushing. You are no longer concerned with your breathing, but your fire. The fire that was simmering has been turned higher.

Then you feel it. His hands move up your back. Onto your shoulders. He pushes into you slowly. Then very quickly. His hands around your neck. Using you for leverage. Thrust in, out, in, out. You want to, but can't. Not without permission. He senses it, but keeps going. The position he is in rubbing your pelvic bone, those restraints keeping you were he wants you, the hand around your neck restricting just enough, and now that other hand pulling your hair back, yanking it. This is where you always wanted to be.

Grunting and holding back. He keeps pistoning in and out of you. You try words, but they are useless. He inches closer to your ear and whispers, "I love you! You may come." The flood gates open and your release is near. Powerful, forceful, intense, in unison. It is now just you and him. No longer master and slave, just two lovers.