We would have decided to meet in person, for the first time. A ski town? Yes, a ski town.
A nice hotel, right on the slopes. One of those classic mountain lodges, done American style: large. With large rooms, large beds, large windows, large lounge, multiple stories.
The day you leave for the hotel, you get an email. It's a short one, with a few bullet points in it.
1) Arrive before me. The room will be booked under your name.
2) Get the keys, go up to the room.
3) Don't close the door – just let it rest on its locks.
3) Strip naked.
4) Put a blindfold on. Tight, so that you can't see.
5) Put cuffs on your wrists. Lock them behind your back. Tight, so that you can't wiggle out of them.
6) Stand in the middle of the room, facing the door, legs spread apart.
7) Wait until I arrive at 7PM.
8) You will only speak when spoken to.
At 7PM sharp, I stand in front of the room. I can see that it is slightly cracked open. Good. You followed at least one of the instructions, I quietly say to myself.
I had arrived fairly early in the morning, and had staked out a spot in the lounge from where I could see the check-in desk, but where the guests would have their backs turned to me. In jeans and a button-down shirt, I looked like a few of the other middle-aged men. Well, hopefully not too much like them.The latest issue of the Economist in my hand, a caipirinha on the little table in front of me, my sports bag next to me, and I was set for the next few hours. When it hit 5PM, and I still hadn't seen anything of you, I was starting to wonder. Did she get cold feet after all that talk from her? Had I missed her at the check-in? Wait – I am at the right hotel, right? A quick check of the registration email, and I calmed myself down. The date was right, the name was right, and I was being silly. Seriously, I'm supposed to be in charge here. Let's be in charge.
It wasn't much later that I spotted a tiny female figure approaching the front desk. Black hair, about shoulder length. A compact body in a dark, body-hugging, ankle-length dress. Could it be? She seems a bit tall for 5'2. Then I spot the big heels she's sporting. It's gotta be her. No, I had never seen her in flesh and blood before. All I had of her were some oddly angled and oddly lit shots, and a headless painting. But it had to be her. The profile, the tall walk – it had to be. I breathed in, and breathed out slowly. This might be interesting.
I slowly push open the door. It's dark inside – the lights must be all off, and the curtains closed. Did she fall asleep? I take a step inside, put down my sport bag, hang the do not disturb sign outside, and softly close the door. As I turn around, I see a small, dark figure in the middle of the room.
"Well, what do we have here?"
I hear you take in a sharp breath, and see you move your legs together. You even almost try to turn away. Well, that will not do. A faint grin flashes across my face. I wonder: is she's doing it on purpose, or is she genuinely is worried someone else is in the room?
The bit of light filtering in through the window shapes your body, but makes it hard to see anything else. I fumble for the light switch – they are all more or less in the same place in these rooms – and flick it on. I finally do see you – and it is a glorious sight. You did follow the instructions. Just how closely, we have to find out.
"Looks like we have a little slut here who likes showing herself off to people she has never met."
I can see you blush, and relax a little bit. This is perfect.
I take a few steps forward, and grab your jaw in my right hand. As I slowly pull your face up, I take a closer look at your blindfold. It's a thin scarf, synthetic, and badly fitting. Did I see an eye try to peek out from underneath it?
"What, did you run into CVS to get this? This will need to be fixed."
I let go of your jaw, and take a step back. Your legs are still together. There's a small shiver running up and down them.
"What's with the closed legs, fucktoy? I thought the instructions were pretty clear: legs spread. Are you trying to hide something? Maybe your wet fucking cunt? The fact that you are so utterly turned on by being naked in front of me?"
Your cheeks are turning bright red, and you quickly spread your legs. Did I just hear a bit of a whimper?
"No.... I didn't... I was..."
"Was what, slut? You follow instructions, and you follow them right. Now be quiet while I look at you."
The nipples on your perky breasts are fully erect. Your chest is rising and falling rapidly, your breathing shallow. Your arms disappear behind your back, and your hips flare out nicely. As promised, your pussy is perfectly bald. Good. I hate hacking through a bush. The inside of your thighs seem to be moist. I wonder just how long you've been standing here like that.
I walk around to your backside, to inspect the cuffs. Mmh, these might actually be real cuffs. The metal shines brightly in the light – new, no doubt. But they're hanging pretty low on the wrists. With a bit of dedication, I'm sure you could get at least one hand through them. I grab the chain between the cuffs, and yank them up to take a closer look at them. The sudden movement yanks your arms straight up, and you have to quickly drop your head and torso to avoid having your shoulders painfully torqued.
"Ahh!" A small cry escapes your lips. Quickly, I give your ass cheek a hard whack with my other hand.With your ass sticking out like that, my hand makes a satisfying slap! Sound, and your cheek quickly sports a nice red hand print.
"I said quiet."
The metal feels just a little too light to be actually steel... probably aluminum. I take a closer look at the locking mechanism, and there it is: a little release button. Of course, party hand cuffs. Expecting her to find actual hand cuffs was maybe a bit unfair, but this would make for a nice lesson in what proper restraints feel like. And a good reason to torture her in ways that would flood her pussy.
"Party cuffs? What is this, a bachelor party? And they're so loose that they barely stay on. No, slut, this will definitely not do."
Feeling that you're in trouble, you try to squirm away from me. But that's the nice thing about cuffs – they're easy to tighten, and easy to hold on to. A give a quick push to the outside of the cuffs, and hear the ratcheting mechanism click a few times. There – she should feel that a bit more. I lift the cuffs up a bit more, and you almost crumble to the floor, face down, ass raised high. Time for a bit of fun.
I pull my belt out from the clasp, pull the clasp back, and unhook the clasp pin from the belt. You can hear me working on my belt, and it suddenly dawns on you that your ass is in deep, deep trouble. You try to lower your ass and crawl away, but the cuffs keep you solidly in place.
"Please, no.... please, it's going to hurt too much..."