He opens the door.
Two of the hotel room's many lights glow against the backdrop of the city's magical night, somehow a different color of blue and black than his own. He looks out over it, taking the last piece of meat from a kabob and a sip from a cool local bottled water. "You were right about the kebab place: it's very good. Worth the extra few minutes."
He steps onto the balcony and the air feels wonderful against his skin. Somehow, being higher up has made it feel that much cleaner, cooler as he tosses the skewer in the trash and takes the small bag of items he purchased to the "desk" before opening it up. "They had everything, well, almost, but you weren't kidding. It was the place to go."
A bottle of massage oil is placed on
the desk. Then lube, a second kind of lube, and a butt plug. Finally he takes out some restraints, soft and easy guards that go over the whole of the wrist to make the strain of them bite into the flesh less while still taking more control. He dangles those, holding them by the chain in the middle. "These, I think, you'll be very happy with. They should alleviate a lot of your concerns."
Small, easy steps take our hero to the bed where she looks up at him with a mixture of concern and rage. Her hands are bound by traditional cuffs and her mouth stuffed with panties and a hand-towel from the bathroom. Her legs tied up with the simple sash of a complimentary robe, soaked in water to give it extra strength and tension. She moves, stuck on her stomach, like a fish out of water.
"Now, now, dear. I did the shopping for you. The least you can do is say thank you."
She growls in response and he kills the bottle while looking her in the eyes, puts it down on the ground before undoing the now only soggy belt. As soon as it's off she kicks at him but he laughs and holds her legs still long enough to kiss her ankles. When she continues to resist, he pulls out the key to the handcuffs and waits for her to look over.
It takes a few minutes before she does. He sees her eyes look up at it, recognize it, and acknowledge. That's when she stops.
He mounts her from behind, the sheer panties she wears giving almost no resistance to his cock, hard through his jeans like a hammer. It's pushed against her intentionally as he takes her wrists, pulls them up gently. Then, as he undoes the lock, he puts the key aside on his end table as he continues to slide his cock up and down. "I'll unlock the other wrist in a second but first we-"
There is violence in every thrash and kick she gives from beneath him, but he's in too good of a position, too strong and too ready for it. He just holds her wrists until it passes. "There we are. Now as I was saying, I'll undo the other one in a second but first? We're going to try something."
Our hero kicks up off her, rises up, and gives her ass a faint love slap before offering her a hand up. She looks at it, then him, and back to his hand before she takes it. When he pulls her up, she gasps, almost like she weren't made of anger and frustration. "I'm going to take the fabric out of your mouth now. I'd appreciate having all my fingers after I do."
First comes the hand towel, folded in half. Then the second pair of panties she had produced from her purse. He tosses both aside and then looks at her, hair a mess from being thrashed around. Indentations on her face from pressing into the mattress. Torso covered, breasts barely contained, by his dress shirt leading down to sheer panties and a dangling pair of handcuffs, half-clasped.
And more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen, even in that moment.
"I could have bitten off three of your fingers just now."
"Two at most. If you were lucky."
"If you were lucky, My Mister, it would have only been one. And when I sewed it back on later, I would not have done such a good job so if you ever tried this again, I could grab you by it. Twist it. Make you scream for me."
"Don't you do enough of that as is?" He glides to the bathroom door. "Come here."
She gives him a curious look before taking light and searching steps to him. Then he grabs her from behind, takes her handcuffed wrist and moves it up behind her back. When she's locked into that, he puts a hand beneath her throat, moves her into to the bathroom, and faces her towards the vanity.
There the pair stands, her shorter than him by a fair bit, but the two of them side by side in less than perfectly pressed clothing. Their eyes and faces giving the signs of fatigue. Real, and earnest. "What do you see?" He asks as he releases her wrist but keeps her throat so he can press her into him.
