Satisfaction

Hi everyone! It's been a while since I uploaded a new story, and I'm hoping everyone enjoys this one. I do love a bit of feedback, so don't be shy! Enjoy :)

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Four o'clock, I'm sure you said four o'clock, I think to myself, worrying now as I pull in to the car park. I always panic that I'm late. The clock on my dash says I have eight minutes to spare. Plenty of time. I have a quick look in the mirror, brush my hair, check my teeth. Ready. I check the text again, room 210. I nod to myself and get out of the car.

I only have a small bag with me - one outfit for this evening and the rest of the bag filled with minimal toiletries and the highest number of sex toys I could fit in. You had assured me that my clothing needs would be minimal for the next two days and gave me very precise instructions on what to bring and what not to bring. I run through it in my head: dress, revealing yet feminine; hold ups, lace topped; under bust corset and black push up bra. Really not a very long list at all. No underwear, no nightwear, nothing for the following day. I could only assume the clothes I travelled here in wouldn't be worn for long to ensure they could be worn again tomorrow. The thought made my pussy clench, my juices already coating my bare lips as I reached my hand up to knock on the door of room 210.

My eye caught my watch as I did, right on time. I heard some movement on the other side of the door. Then your voice, clear and almost mocking in tone, "who is it?"

That threw me. How should I answer? I look around me. Then back at the door. There's a peephole right there, he knows it's me. I check around me again, definitely no one around.

"It's me, Sir," I try to say clearly but it comes out as a frantic whisper.

"You'll have to speak up, I can't hear you," this time I can tell you're definitely mocking me. I can practically hear the smile in your voice.

"It's your little sub Sir," I say, louder this time, surely you heard me.

"Sorry, still can't hear you, who?" you tease.

"Your little sub Sir," I almost shout the last word as I see the door handle turning. I hear another handle behind me. I must have been loud enough to have made someone else open their door. Hurry, I think, please hurry. You pull the door open slowly, and stand on the threshold.

"Ah, it is you. I wasn't sure with all that mumbling you were doing. What's wrong? Why do you keep looking behind you? Look at me when I'm talking to you."

"Yes Sir, I'm sorry Sir." I glance up at your face, noting your soft expression. You're not really mad, you're playing with me. I soon understand why when I hear a door behind me slam shut, then the scratch of a key in a lock. I whip my head round and notice a man around my age locking his room door.

"Look at me I said little sub," you remind me. Not bothering to keep your voice down at all.

"Yes Sir, I'm sorry Sir," I turn back to you whispering, trying to disguise our conversation as a casual one.

"Speak up slut, you know I don't like it when you mumble," you're enjoying yourself thoroughly now. The other man is getting closer to us, only one door away. There's no way he won't hear me.

"Of course Sir. I won't mumble again Sir," I keep my voice at an audible level, only hesitating and then stumbling over the last few words. The guy passes, hearing everything.

"Well done slut, I knew you hadn't forgotten how to speak to me. Now...do you want to come in?"

He's turned around now, intrigued by the situation. His attention caught by the tone of your voice. I'm blushing furiously and trying to hide behind my hair.

"Yes please Sir," I speak without looking at you. You reach out and grab me by the chin.

"Why?"

"I...I...I want you to use me Sir, I need you Sir," my voice is steady now, the passing man barely even on my radar until I hear a yell and a woman shouting to watch where he's going.

Both you and I watch as he tries to apologise to the woman he's just walked into while watching our exchange. You use his distraction from us to grab me by the hair and pull me into the room. The door falls shut behind us as your lips crash into mine and my body hits the door all within seconds. It's dizzying and mind blowing how you take over my mind, how you focus me so completely. My legs part involuntarily, my bag drops to the side and I bring my arms up around you, pulling you into me, wanting to feel you against me.

You allow me the freedom for a few minutes, enjoying the kiss, my hands in your hair, so gentle, the paradox to your hand that is tugging on the fistful of my hair it is currently grabbing hold of, making me gasp into your mouth every so often. Then you let go of my hair, that causing it's own kind of pain. You pull back from me, leaving me standing against the door, legs spread apart and my hands down by my sides.

You look me up and down, assessing me. I have another mental run through of your instructions for my travelling outfit: a mid thigh black skirt; hold ups, tops slightly visible; a buttoned blouse, buttoned to just below my bra, cleavage on display; hair loose; flat shoes; no knickers. That last one was most important. That last one was the reason I'd sat a towel down in the drivers seat for the journey. I'd found my hand wandering between my legs while sat in heavy traffic for five minutes. My lips bare, sticky and slick with my juices.

I'd been turned on before I even started getting dressed, feeling my thighs getting wet as I rolled my hold ups up my legs, pulling my skirt on, buttoning my blouse, checking the buttons in the mirror to ensure I hadn't done too many of them. The frequent flash of cleavage I got as I blow dried my hair convinced me I'd buttoned up exactly how you wanted me. Thinking about driving dressed like this made my pussy tighten in excitement. The looks I'd be getting...It was thrilling and embarrassing at the same time.

Your hand reaches out, touching each piece of my clothing, I can see the mental checklist in your head as your fingertips trace my collarbone and run down my cleavage, over my stomach to the hem of my skirt, skimming the inch of visible hold up. You don't put your hand up my skirt as I expected you to, but instead you take my hands, one at a time, placing them at the bottom of the skirt.

"Show me your cunt, little sub," you demand, your eyes dark with lust.

I let my head fall back, my eyes closed as I obey you, my body responding to you how it always does. You stare at my uncovered pussy, the intensity making me squirm.

"Good girl," you direct your compliment towards my crotch, but I remember to thank you. Then you turn away. As you do I start to lower the hem. You turn back around and your hand is around my throat, your face close to mine.

"Did I tell you to drop your skirt?"

"No Sir, I'm sorry Sir," I stammer and pull it back up to where I'd been holding it. You let go as quickly as you grabbed hold, leaving me panting. I watch you as you move to the middle of the room. This is the first I've looked around.

You've laid out all your toys on a low table beneath the window, you've grabbed my bag and begin to add mine to the array. Looking at the collection makes me smile at my memories of every implement and toy. The flogger I won in a little wager we had. The cane that marked me for four weeks the first time you used it to punish me. The paddle you loved using to make me squirm, spanking me with it so hard I bled a little that one time. The nipple clamps you so enjoyed putting on me, taking them off and reapplying immediately if I don't hold your gaze as you release their bite on my flesh. I roll my hips reflexively, wanting to press myself against something solid as I recall these memories.

You're watching me I realise, stopping and blushing. I look down for a moment and when I look back up you've gone. The door to the bathroom is shut I notice. I still don't drop the hem of my skirt. I don't move except my head, taking in the rest of the room. The bed looks inviting, soft and covered in an inordinate number of pillows. I briefly wonder which one you'll give me to kneel on. My eyes keep moving. A wardrobe, standard bedside cabinets. No headboard I notice. I look up, only then noticing the supporting beam running across the ceiling. It had hooks all along it. I search the room again, finally spotting the wound up string of flowers that must thread through the hooks. I got a little lightheaded at the thought of those hooks.

You exit the bathroom, not even looking at me. I love it and I hate it when you ignore me like this. When you go about, doing what you need to do while I kneel or stand or whatever else you've told me to do. You sometimes glance at me, but mostly you don't. I continue standing there, shifting slightly as I begin to get uncomfortable. You are removing the pillows from the bed. You take one into the corner of the room, a big soft looking one and place it down. You then move the chair from the desk over into the middle of the room facing away from the corner with the pillow. Placing your ropes next to the chair you survey the room as if checking everything is to your liking.

I'm nervous. I have no idea what to expect. As always you've kept me in the dark and the anticipation has been mounting over the last few weeks. I know how you plan and plan until you know exactly what you want to do to me. How you want me to react. I know you love my reactions and that often you'll play on them, deviating from your plan. That makes it all the more exciting, knowing the next 24 hours could go anywhere at all.

I don't realise how big a grin must be on my face until I look back to you and you're standing watching me. Your eyes are dark but you're smiling. I smile back at you.

"By the look on your face can I safely assume we are on green?" You ask, knowing fine well my answer.

"Of course Sir. The greenest of green even Sir," I respond cheekily. You see the humour thankfully and just shake your head gently at me, concealing a laugh I think. We play hard at times but I do love it when we get playful. Some people don't understand the difference, but it's what makes what we do so good I always think. I recall the time we sat on my couch after a session with you trying to tickle me, gently running your fingers over my upper lip, tickling me but my gut instinct making me try to lick your finger every time instead. There have been other times when we've been sitting having a conversation, outside of play, during a break, when you'll just suddenly grab me. The heat that shoots through my body, zeroing in on my pussy in those seconds has my head fuzzy almost instantly. You know precisely how to make me lose my train of thought. As I said, I really do love it when we play.

You've walked across the room to me now, standing just an inch away from me. Not touching, but I can feel your heat.

"Green is the only colour today. Understand?" You both tell me and ask me.

I nod, not even thinking about it. We've played without a safe word before. I know you'll look after me. "Of course Sir. Green all the way," I smile at you.

"I wonder if you'll still be smiling the same by the time I'm finished with you?"

I falter now. I can't help but wonder what you have planned.

"That's better. I like it when you're anticipating what might possibly come next. I don't want you thinking about anything. Just give everything to me," you close the gap between us and press me back hard against the door, "give me everything little sub."

"Yes..." My response is cut off by your kiss. Hard and searching. Your lips soft but forceful, a contradiction.

Your fingers wrap around my wrists and pull my arms up above my head, my skirt stays up, pinned between our bodies. I hope I'm not making a mess of your trousers as your clothed crotch presses into my exposed pussy. It's a pointless thought as I feel myself contract and wetness seep out.

"You're thinking, stop."

"Sorry Sir, sorry, I'll try not to," I respond, just desperately wanting you to kiss me again. I could do this part for hours. You get me so worked up, making me want more. I wonder how it would have felt that day we met for lunch if you had pulled me down an alley and shoved me in a doorway just to get your hands on my body. You'd walked up the street with your hand on my back, telling me how much you wanted to touch me and fuck me right there. People passing all around us as you said these things to me, unaware. Would they have noticed if you'd done exactly that?

You bite my lip then, and I squeal into your mouth.

"I said stop thinking," you tell me. This time it's definitely not a warning.

"I'm sorry Sir. I can't help it, I, I just got lost a bit there," I try to explain.

You're studying my face, then you ask me, "what were you thinking about?"

Exactly the question I didn't want to answer. I didn't want you to know how I remembered such little things about our meetings. Your hand lets go of one of my wrists, I keep it there, as you slide your hand between my legs. Your fingers start stroking my lips lightly, making me squirm. It almost tickles, your touch is so light.

"Tell me little sub, I told you I want everything. What were you thinking about that made you tense up so much? What were you thinking about that made you grind yourself against me?"

I blushed, I hadn't done that had I? Then I felt your trousers against my thigh as you leaned to the side to give yourself more space inbetween my legs. There was a definite wet patch.

I cast my eyes downwards, hoping to distract you into other things. Your fingers still stroking me, not nearly enough to give me the release I needed, not even close, it was becoming maddening. Torturous. Skirting around my clit, circling and circling. Spreading my lips, exposing me to the air of the room. Running your finger up and down my slit, stopping right before you hit my clit.

"Tell me," you coax. "If you want more, tell me."

I give in to you. I tell you. I tell you I was thinking how I teased you, trying to lick you when you wanted to tickle me. Telling you how it feels so good when you grab me suddenly and harshly when we're sitting talking, how you put me in my place below you so quickly with just a few words or a look or an order. I remind you of the time we woke up together and you asked me if I wanted to go back to sleep, how I wondered now if you'd have let me, but your hand rough in my hair the moment I said no, shoving me under the covers to your cock, I told you how good that felt to be controlled like that. Telling you I was wondering how it would have felt if you'd ushered me down an alleyway and pinned me forcefully in a doorway and took whatever you wanted from me. Telling you I was remembering it all. Remembering the little things. The things other people forget.

I look up at you finally when I finish. Your fingers are still moving, by now entering my pussy and pulling out, exploring me entirely.

"Fuck." It's all you say. My words have affected you. I don't usually speak like this in person, usually only in text. I see what my words do to you. I wonder if they're heightened by me physically being there.

"Down. Knees. Now."

Your voice is husky and demanding but gentle at the same time. I comply immediately, not even having to think twice. I kneel and sit back on my feet, my back against the door still. Your finger that was just in my pussy is in my mouth now as you use your other hand to unbuckle and unzip and pull down, it's all a flurry of movement beyond your hand, I hear it more than I see it as I concentrate on your fingers. Finally you're free. There's precum dripping from the tip of your cock and I move towards it, your finger still in my mouth as I stretch my tongue out to taste you. I groan and look up at you pleading with my eyes.

You remove your finger then and I take that as my invitation. I lick you, hungrily, tasting more of your precum, it's not sweet, but it's not unpleasant. It's an indescribable taste that I actually like and happily take in my mouth. I briefly wonder if I'd recognise you by taste alone by now. But then my mind is overtaken by my urge to pleasure you. My tongue runs down the shaft, tracing patterns and swirls and circling around and back again when you make the slightest noise, trying to elicit a reaction again. My hands are on your thighs, gripping them gently using them to support myself and allowing me to put my entire effort into the movement of my head and neck.

I reach the base, my tongue flattening against your balls and dragging upwards making you moan. I repeat, getting into a rhythm, moving further down until my tongue is traveling the entire surface every time, starting just right behind your balls, where you always enjoy it more than you'll say, coming round to meet the base of your cock again and again.

My tongue has coaxed more precum out that I lap up again with my tongue when I keep the movement steady up the underside. You watch me intently. You know how much I love sucking your cock and you love how much I enjoy it. I love sending your mind over the edge into a world of pleasure that makes you dizzy. The kind of pleasure that pushes reason out of your head. The kind that makes you lose control.

"Put your hands behind your head," your demand comes out like a growl. I've gotten to you.

I comply, whispering, "yes Sir." Your cock is now just resting on my tongue. You've let me have my fun. You reach down with one hand and stroke my face, I smile as best as I can with your cock in between my lips. So gentle. Such a contradiction. Your hand presses against my forehead pushing me back until I'm against the door, my hands only just cushioning from the hard wood, your body moving with me. I'm trapped, your cock and hand effectively pinning me in place. You remove your hand, wanting to see my eyes. Starting slowly at first you thrust into my mouth, moving my head an inch here or there, using a strong grip on my hair to do so, getting me in just the right position for you to slide easily in and out.

"Keep your mouth open and tongue out," you tell me.

I obey, slackening my jaw so my lips don't grip onto you and my tongue covers my lower teeth and lip. You keep moving slowly, not all the way in nor all the way out. I can feel the saliva starting to build. At such an awkward angle with my mouth open like this there's nowhere for it to go but out and down. You're moving deeper, making me gag slightly, my eyes watering gently, drool covering my chin. You speed up, still not all the way in, I'm bobbing back and forth to meet your thrusts. I think you're going to stop me when you grab hold of my hair but you encourage me. Deeper and harder and faster. My blouse and cleavage is wet with saliva now. My mascara has smudged and ran. You don't let up. You only back out a little to let me gather myself when I gag too hard. But your cock never leaves my mouth. My tongue stays out, my mouth open.

Your fingers press up on my jaw, I tighten my lips again, my tongue back in my mouth and you start to really fuck my throat then. You go deep and hard for every thrust. You pull out once when I gag hard, watch me closely and wait until I've just recovered before starting again. I keep closing my eyes and you keep telling me to open them. I'm trying to keep them open but it's so hard. You look down at me, stopping the brutal fucking of my throat for only a second while you're in my throat. You spit on me, landing on my forehead and running down my face. Humiliation washes over me, I don't want to look at you as you smile at me before resuming throat fucking me. My throat and jaw hurts.

My fingers are interlaced behind my head, trying so hard to keep them there as you've instructed. You're getting louder.

"Fucking hell, oh fuck that's so good," you're growling now, your grip in my hair tightening, I'm trying to scream but it just makes me gag more. It stings as you get closer and closer to cumming, your self control is gone now. You want me for one thing only now, you want to cum in my throat. And you'll get that. Your way. You push deep into my mouth, your head hitting the back of my throat as the first spurt of cum hits me. I swallow instinctively, tightening round your cock and you growl above me and pull me tighter into you.