I let myself into the hotel room with more than a touch of apprehension, not sure why you decided we should meet here of all places. The tone of your voice when you called, however, had left me in no doubt that your request was not one to be ignored. Smoothing down the front of my skirt in an attempt to quell my rising nervousness I am struck by a pang of regret that you didn't leave me enough time to change clothes before summoning me here. I look down at my work clothes, sigh and step into the hotel room.
The curtains are drawn and I strain my eyes, trying to adjust to the transition from the bright daylit hallway. I can't see you but I can smell your aftershave and more than that I can sense your presence in the room. "Close the door." It's a firm yet emotionless command, and I obey immediately, more apprehensive than ever about your plans for me. I hover by the door, unsure whether to move, and you seem happy to keep me waiting for what feels like an age before putting me out of my misery.
"Come over here." There's a note in your voice that both compels me to obey and arouses me at the same time. My nipples are hard and I'm starting to get wet and all you've done is speak. It's a delicious torment.
Heart beating faster and harder, I cross the room to you, and my eyes start adjusting to the dim light. You're sat in a high-backed armchair and I stand in front of you, my arms at my sides and my gaze downcast. Again, you're in no hurry to speak and I know you're deriving as much pleasure from watching me squirm as I am. Eventually you speak, and as I'd known it would be, the anticipation was worth it. "You've been a very, very bad girl," you murmur and my clitoris twinges ecstatically at your tone. It takes every ounce of self control to stop that first soft moan escaping my lips, and my breathing deepens with the effort.
Eventually I stammer out a nervous "I know..." but you cut me off quickly.
"I didn't say you could speak. Come closer." I step forward, as if I had any choice in the matter. My knees are almost touching yours, and you lean forward and run one hand slowly upwards from the outside of my calf to my upper thigh. Despite myself I tremble, and I can almost feel you smile, knowing what this is doing to me. Your hand lingers on my thigh for far too long, and I wonder how long I can keep a grip on my remaining self-control. I desperately want to jump on you and just fuck your brains out right there in the armchair but that would end the delicious game far too early. So I gather my crumbling will and try to compose myself as much as I can.
You're as eager to prolong the game as I am and your next command grants me some blessed respite from the tension. "Go and have a shower, I want you clean." You gesture towards the en-suite bathroom. "There are clothes hanging on the back of the door. Be quick, I don't want you wasting my time."