Third Night: Power Play

This is part 3 of the story that is told in „First Night: The dominant stranger" and „Second night: The firework". Thanks to SimplySilver for overseeing the English translation of my German story „Drittes Treffen: Kräftemessen". This English version has some small changes and additions compared to the German version.

The hotel bar was almost empty. He looked at his watch. It was shortly before half past nine. He let his eyes wander around the bar room. He couldn't see her anywhere. He didn't like it when people were late. It was to be their third meeting. He had met her in this bar some time ago. She had noticed that he was reading the "History of O", a book she was familiar with. When he left the bar room that evening some weeks ago, she had followed him. He had taken her up to the room. One thing led to the other and she kinda submitted to him. However, there was some irritation between him and her: she was a masochist who loved the belt, he was more into domination and control.

He sat down at a table near a corner and waved the waiter over. It was now exactly half past nine. He ordered a whiskey with ice. While the bartender poured the drink he said something to the waiter and both of them looked over at the guest.

The waiter placed the glass in front of him and then asked with a smile: "Is the gentleman expecting a lady -- a particular lady? Here at half past nine?" He looked at the waiter in surprise and nodded, wondering what might come next. "Then this envelope is for you." Were they making fun of him? He hesitated for a moment, then took the envelope without a word and opened it. Her message consisted of four short sentences: "You can use me, but I will not submit to you. Take the taxi that is waiting in the parking place. The driver knows where to bring you to. Don't make him wait too long or he'll be gone."

He drained the glass in one gulp. The whiskey was good. At his signal, the waiter brought him another drink. He paid the bill immediately and gave the waiter a generous tip. The bar slowly filled with guests. He watched the ice melt in the glass, then got up and left. There was indeed a taxi in the parking place. The taxi driver stood next to his vehicle and smoked a cigarette. The car radio played jazz music from the fifties.

"You the one who is supposed to pick me up?"

The taxi driver grinned and said: "Yes, man, thats me" and opened the door for him.

There were a lot of people walking in the streets, laughing and cheering, some of them already drunk. A typical Saturday evening. The colorful lights of the restaurants and clubs made life seem happier than it really was, if one thought about it.

Time passed and they were still driving. He was upset and wondered what he would do when she stood in front of him at her door. Grab her without a word and making her bend over a chair, even though that wasn't his style? Wouldn't that just make him play the game by her rules? What the fuck was she thinking? Or should he tell the taxi driver to wait a moment and then drive him back to town, after he had a word with the lady? When she opened the door, he would give her the letter back, ignore her reaction and just walk away? Why hadn't he just stayed in the bar?

They were now driving through an anonymous neighborhood of single-family homes. The taxi driver turned to him: "We'll be right there." He stopped two or three houses down. "Here it is." The ride had been paid for in advance by her, but the taxi driver was happy to accept a tip. Before he drove away, he gave the passenger his card with the phone number: "Just in case you need a taxi later."

The house stood behind high green hedges. The moon was behind a cloud and there were no stars. She opened the door before he could ring the bell. She gave him a smile and shifted slightly nervously. A few strands of hair hung in her face. In the last few hours, doubts had crept into her mind as to whether her plan would work and whether he would actually come. To relax she had drunk two or three glasses of wine, her cheeks were slightly red.

Now he stood in her living room and looked at her. He in a dark suit, she just in a T-shirt that was a little too big for her, but covered hardly her butt. He looked at her thighs then at her face. None of them spoke.

For a long moment both were frozen. Finally she took a step away from him. On the coutch was a cloth pillow. Her hands got hold of it and she tried to throw it at his head. It was an easy thing for him to catch it. Instead of throwing it back he dropped it on the floor. She looked around for another projectile, but found none. Then she decided to take off her T-shirt, but only hit the stand lamp on his right, when she throw it.

She looked gorgeous. The pointed nipples of her bare breasts pointed at him defiantly. She had the perfect neck for a collar. A thick black leather one with an iron ring to put her on a leash. As he approached her, she ran away. In the end he caught up with her in the bedroom. Slowly he took off his blazer and trousers and undid his tie. Then he sat on the bed and said, "Come here!" When she was close enough, he grabbed her and draped her over his knee. After the first few slaps, she squirmed on his knees and he held her arms together behind her back.

As he kept spanking her she moaned with every hit. Her ass cheeks were now flushed and hot. Finally he pushed her off his knees and and onto the bed. He rolled her onto her back and spread her legs. He noticed that she had trimmed her brown pubic hair in a special way. He spread her legs more and then let her go. That wasn't exactly what she wanted, and she said so. "Come on, fuck me! Take me!" But he was in no hurry. He flipped her over again and gave her ass a few more hard smacks with a hairbrush. Once she cried out loudly. Even before his hard cock was in her wet pussy, she came for the first time. After all the tension was gone she slept exhausted in his arms.

In the morning he used the hairbrush again on her ass. At a certain point the pain seemed to be to much for her and she almost cried. As he stopped she grabbed him ready to get fucked hard.

It was obvious that on that morning her butt was very sore. He could see it by the face she made when she sat down on the hard chair in the kitchen. It was then when he made, as he said, a "suggestion": "It might hurt less, if you kneel..."