I'm standing at the registration desk of the hotel we agreed upon, a small bag in my hand. I didn't pack much, as you requested. I don't think I'll need much else, this weekend, do you? The woman returns with my credit card and hands me a slip of paper. "You have a message, ma'am." I open the paper and read:
"Here are your instructions: Leave a key to your room in an envelope with my name on it at the Front Desk. Get to your room. Shower quickly. Lay naked on the bed, legs spread WIDE, and wait for me. Do nothing else. Hurry."
My stomach flips as I read your note. What have I got myself into? As I crumble the paper, mindlessly searching for a waste paper bin, I realise that my entire body is flushed, warm, tingling. It begins.
I quickly take the lift up to my room, drop my small bag on the floor and hop into the shower, remembering your words. I'm so aroused already that I'm tempted to linger a bit, but I don't want you to catch me in here (God only knows what you would do if i disobeyed you), so I rinse off and grab a towel.
I dry myself quickly and lay on the bed. And I wait.
The room is cold and my nipples grow hard in no time. Five minutes. I'm thinking of what this weekend will bring. Ten. I wonder how far I'll be able to go, can I withstand whatever you give me? Thirty. My stomach flips again, wondering where you are, knowing you're making me wait purposely. Enjoying the fact that I'm completely naked, pussy open, waiting for you, not moving. Just that thought, knowing the control you have over me, gets me wet.
I'm lost in thought when I suddenly hear the door open. My heart starts to pound. My eyes grow wide, waiting for a glimpse of you, waiting for you to round the corner, waiting to see if I have pleased you.
Then there you are. You walk to the foot of the bed, not speaking. Your eyes are all over me. And you smile. You have a small bag in your hand as well, and you let it drop to the floor as you start to walk around the bed, your eyes never leaving my body.
I start to speak, and you raise your finger to your lips, hushing me.
You reach down and casually touch one nipple, barely, just brushing over it with your fingertip. I gasp softly, the electricity of your first touch waking my entire body. Your fingers trail softly down my body, my stomach. Your expression is intent, assessing my body like a fine piece of furniture you just purchased.
Your hand trails down between my legs, and quickly dips inside my pussy. I moan and raise my hips slightly. You look at me with eyebrows raised. I can tell you are surprised how wet I am already. You walk back to the foot of the bed, bringing your fingers to your mouth, tasting me.
Then you speak. "Open your legs wider, slut." I hear your voice for the first time, strong, clear, demanding. My legs are already widely spread, but I open them a bit more, as much as I can. "More" you say. I try to spread them wider, but I can't, and I start to panic. My heart is thudding in my chest, wondering what will happen, REALLY, if I can't do as you ask. I stretch them open a bit more, but you're still not pleased. You grab my knee and pull it back roughly. "Put your hand here. Pull your knees back. Good. Now do the same on the other knee.... Good..." Now I'm completely open to you, pulling my knees back and open, my pussy lips spread wide, pink, and wet. I'm certain you could see inside me if you looked.
You seem pleased and you walk around the bed again, tilting your head, looking at me. But it's not right just yet -- I can see that in your eyes. You stand at the foot of the bed, staring, and you say "Raise your arms over your head. Reach for the bedposts. But keep your knees where they are. I want that pussy wide open for me." I raise my arms as instructed, and reach my hands for the bedposts, barely able to touch them with my fingertips.
"Good... That's good" you murmur, smiling slightly. "Don't move."
I'm laying there, completely naked, contorted on the bed for you, as you reach for your bag. I hear you rustling around, looking for something, then pulling out a few items. My heart starts to pound again, wondering.
You walk to the head of the bed, smiling again. That smile, the look in your eyes, makes me shiver. I look down at your hands and see you holding two leather cuffs, and I swallow hard. This was what I wanted, I keep telling myself. This was what I NEEDED...
You put one cuff on the wrist closest to you, and tie it to the bedpost. You can't reach my other wrist, so you climb up onto the bed, straddling my head, and put the other cuff on, tying it tight. I look up at you, your crotch in my face, unable to move my arms at all. I can smell your smell, feel your heat. You look down at me, meeting my eyes (reading my mind!) and grin. Then you climb off the bed.
You pull out two more leather straps, things I've never seen before (and can't even imagine), and I start to get nervous again.
You wrap the strap under my knee, a little slack on each side, and attach a length of rope to it. You pull the rope tightly, back towards the head of the bed, and tie the rope to the headboard. You do the same to the other knee, and I realise that I cannot close my legs. The bonds pull my knees back and open, and I'm unable to cover myself. I suddenly feel very vulnerable, embarrassed. I start to panic a bit, testing my bonds, and I find that I can move my feet, and that I can wiggle my hips around a bit.
But that doesn't last long.
You return to the bag, and pull out two more leather cuffs and more rope. I watch you, mesmerised, as you attach the cuffs to my ankles and pull the ropes tightly to the footboard of the bed.
You stand at the foot of the bed to admire your work. "Now, my pet, you are MINE." And you grin. A horrible, evil grin that both horrifies me and arouses me at the same time.
You fix yourself a drink and slowly get undressed. You know that I'm yours, completely, for the weekend, and you are in no hurry. I watch you, my arousal becoming almost unbearable. I want to beg you to touch me, to fuck me, but I know better than to speak without permission. I pull at my bonds a bit, moaning softly at my own helplessness.
You walk over to the bed, holding your drink, and you sit on the edge of the bed, next to me. You dip your finger in the scotch and bring it to my lips. I suck your finger greedily, the scotch burning my mouth and throat. You dip your finger in the drink again and wet my nipples, watching them grow hard beneath your wet fingers. I moan and arch my back towards your hands, wanting you to grab me, ravage me! But you're so controlled, so cool.
You start to pull at my nipples, squeezing, pinching. The louder I moan, the harder you pinch, until I think I can't stand it anymore, and you lean down and whisper in my ear, "Tell me to stop and I will." I look at you, unable to move or speak, and you smile, permission to continue.
You slide your hand down my stomach, your eyes on my face, enjoying my torment, until you reach my wet pussy. It's completely open, aching, and you start to stroke me. I raise my hips to you, desperately, rubbing against your hand. You stroke my clit, and slide your fingers inside me once, teasing. I raise my hips again, begging you to touch me. You laugh at me and get up from the bed, walking to the phone. You smile at me as you dial a number. I hear you on the phone, but I can't make out what you're saying.
You lean over the bed and take a nipple into your mouth, sucking it roughly, biting it. I gasp as your teeth sink in, sending fingers of pain and pleasure through my body. My back arches into your mouth, my hips rising rhythmatically towards you, so desperate. You pull away and dip into my pussy again, wetter now, smiling as I press against your hand so hungrily.
Suddenly, I hear a knock at the door. You look up, then smile at me, telling me you'll be right back. My stomach flips again, wondering again what I've gotten myself into.