Lust at First Sight

In spite of being tired after a day of meetings, I decide to have a nightcap at the hotel bar

My name is Carol. I am middle-aged and I believe still reasonably attractive, still hoping to meet Mister Right. And, as usual, I'm horny. Some of those guys I met with today would suit me just fine, but of course they're married.

I pick up my drink and sit at one of the small tables near the bubbling fountain, aware of the eyes that are following me from across the lobby. He was apparently waiting patiently for a woman like me to show up. What a hunk! He is probably one of those guys who like to amuse himself at the end of his business day by picking up lonely women in the lounges of first class hotels.

He's younger than I, probably mid-thirties. Tall, slender, strong features, great hair. Like I say, a real hunk.

I watch him and feel a stirring in my stomach. He goes to the bar and orders a Scotch. Self-consciously I tear my eyes away and stare at the fountain.

"Mind if I join you?" Suddenly he is standing by my table, looking down with a friendly smile.

"Oh... sure," I manage.

His eyes never leave mine as he eases his lanky six plus feet into the chair. "I like your looks," he says. I blush, surprised by his bluntness.

"Are you staying in the hotel?" he asks.

"Yes."

"Alone?"

"Yes." I feel the color rise in my cheeks.

"Me too. I feel like having some companionship tonight. What about you?"

I am slowly recovering my composure. "What do you mean, companionship?"

"I mean spending the night together."

"My goodness! Just because you look like God's gift to women does not mean you can proposition nice ladies like me after a minute conversation."

"But I just did."

I know I should get up and walk away, but my feet won't move. Instead I just look at him, imagining his arms around me, his hands on my body.

"Look," he says. "We are both travelers, here for a night. Fortune has put us together. Life is short, full of suffering. But occasionally we have the opportunity to reach out, experience pleasure. I want you."

"Oh..."

"No one knows us here. We will never see each other again. No complications. As the song says, just a moment's pleasure."

I'm tempted, but not so sure about lack of complications. "Ha, there could be after-affects you know."

He grins. "Highly unlikely with the right precautions. I'm not one of those men who gets carried away and ignores the risks. I wear a double layer of socks to bed."

He's thought of everything. Might as well flirt a little more. It's fun.

"You are very persuasive. You must be a salesman. "

No response. He just stares at me with a hungry look. I am flattered and becoming seriously tempted. Wheels are spinning in my head as I let myself drown in his eyes. Finally he speaks.

"Your nipples are stiffening. Am I right?"

"Whoa. You are moving awfully fast."

He lowers his gaze to my chest and asks again, this time in a tone that demands an honest answer. "Am I right?"

I sigh. "Yes."

"Tell me."

"My nipples are hard."

"And your pussy is squishy."

I laugh. "You do have a way with words."

"Am I right?"

"Yes, damn it."

"Tell me."

"My pussy is wet. I can't seem to help myself."

He smiles. "I knew the minute I saw you that it was going to be like this."

"Lust at first sight," I say. "Do you have a name, or are you some mythical god come to ravish me."

His laugh is guttural. "I like that image. My name is Roger. What's yours?"

"Carol."

"Well, Carol. Finish your drink. We can have another upstairs. Shall we go to my room or yours?"

I accept my fate. He is irresistible to a woman like me, and he knows it, the arrogant bastard. All I can do is try to limit the damage. "I prefer mine. That way you can be gone in the morning and I can pretend it was all a dream."

"You will not forget it like you do a dream," he says. "I promise."

"What will I have to do?"

"Obey me."

A shiver goes down my back, and I feel another wet rush.

"And if I don't?"

"You will be punished."

"Then I'd better behave."

"I may punish you anyway."

I suck in a deep breath. "I see..."

He grins. "You like to be bossed around in the bedroom, don't you Carol?"

How did he know that? Unfulfilled fantasies galore sweep through my head. I know how I answer will set the tone for the night. Lust wins over caution. I meet his eyes.

"You really have my number, don't you?"

His satisfied smirk is almost too much to take. "It's not that unusual a number," he says. "Your safe word will be 'uncle'. You will call me 'sir'."

"Oh God..." I am lost.

"Come," he says, and takes my hand.

I stand and pick up my purse. We walk across the lobby toward the elevators. My knees are shaking. Surely everyone in the bar knows what just happened. Should I be embarrassed? What the hell. I'm proud to be seen with a man like this. But what if he is a real sadist? Or a killer? I remember the pepper spray in my purse, and that gives me some comfort. But would good is that if I'm in handcuffs. Christ, what's wrong with me?

The elevator door is open. We enter without hesitation. The die is cast.

"What floor?" he asks.

"Thirty-two."

"Thirty-two, sir."

"Yes, sir. Floor thirty-two, sir."

The door closes.

He looks at me. "Go to the back corner and face the wall."

My God! He's going to do me in the elevator! But I do what he says.

"Drop your purse. Place your hands above your head on the wall. Bend over, just a little. I want to feel your ass."

The elevator is moving rapidly. It will be just seconds before we arrive, provided it doesn't stop to pick up another passenger. Oh God, please don't let that happen. I put my face into the corner, my hands on the side and back wall, and stick out my ass for his inspection. My business suit has a tight skirt. Years ago a boyfriend said my rear end was one of my best features. I am turned on beyond belief.

"Very nice," he purrs. "Firm and not too big. And the way it is twitching... My, my, you are a hot piece. It's going to be a fun night. Relax and enjoy it."

I sigh and push back against his hand. The elevator is slowing. Could we be there already? I hear the doors open, then to my horror, the voices of a man and a woman. They are getting on the elevator!

"Good evening," says Roger. "Don't mind my friend. She has been a bad girl and has to stand in the corner."

The man laughs. The doors close and elevator starts again.

"What did she do?" asks the woman. Her voice is husky, slightly slurred, like she had a few drinks.

"She didn't leap high enough when I said jump," Roger says evenly. "I like my women to be obedient."

A moment of silence, then the woman whispers, "Are you going to spank her?"

I can't believe she said that. Roger doesn't miss a beat.

"Absolutely. Just as soon as I get her to the room."

"Yum," says the woman.

The man laughs nervously. "Nice ass. Mind if I have a feel."

"Help yourself," Roger says.

"Me too," comes from the woman. And two very different hands begin roaming over my hips.

I am mortified. My instinct is to wheel around, protect myself. But the last thing I want to do is let them see my face. And unbelievably, my pussy is wetter than ever. My nipples are so hard they must be boring holes in my bra.

It's all too much—the strong, handsome guy, my utter submission, the promise of sexual release, the affirmation from the unseen woman that being spanked is sexy, and now being stimulated by strange hands in a public elevator!

Roger puts his lips to my ear. "Being humiliated gets you going, doesn't it Carol?"

He is right. I admit it. It has put me on the verge... Before I can respond the elevator slows again and stops.

"This is our floor," says the man.

"Too bad," says the woman.

"You two have a nice night," says Roger, letting them know that their fun is over. I feel a combination of relief and disappointment. I am so turned on that I am ready for anything. Stories about group sex are some of my favorites. What would it be like?

The elevator starts and Roger turns me around, taking my face in his hands. His kiss begins as a gentle brushing of lips. Then he becomes urgent, probing, demanding. I meet his tongue and throw my arms around his neck. His hands drop to my hips and pull me against his hardness. Jesus! I am so ready.

The elevator begins to slow. "You did well," he says, pulling back. "But your trials are only beginning. What is your room number?"

"Thirty-two ten."

We start down the dimly lit hall. His hand finds my ass, cups low, and applies upward pressure. I come up on my toes and struggle to keep my balance as he propels me. Hobbling on four inch heels I feel like I am a ball being juggled, totally under his control.

He chuckles. "I like keeping you off balance. You'll never know what's going to happen next."

Suddenly I'm in front of my door. He lets me down. I just stand there, breathing hard.

"Well," he says. "Are you going to open it?"

I dig the keycard out of my purse. Which way does it go in? My hand is shaking so much I can't line it up with the slot. "You'd better do it," I say.

"Typical, incompetent woman," he chides. "Give it to me."

Of course the card goes in easily, and the green light flashes. He pushes the door open and shoves me through. I stagger, go down on one knee. My skirt is up to mid thigh, and my hair has come lose. I must look like a captured woman taken back to the cave. It makes me hot.

He is smiling as he looks down at me. The door clicks shut behind him. "Now we will see what you're made of," he says. "Crawl to me."

"Please, sir... my suit. I have to wear it tomorrow."

"So hike it up. I'm sure you have an iron in your room. A little crawling's not going to hurt it. It will be off in a minute anyway."

I crawl toward him. He backs up, making me the pursuer.

"Keep your head up," he says. "I want to see the lust in your eyes."

"Ohhh..."

Finally, he stops. I sit back on my legs and look up at him. His stare is intense, penetrating. "Tell me how you feel," he demands.

"Like I'm kneeling before some mythical god."

He chuckles, then takes a step back and reaches into the side pocket of his suit coat. Something silver, shaped like a cigar holder appears in his hand.

"What's that?" I ask in alarm.

Without taking his eyes off of mine he pulls on the end of the shiny tube. It begins to telescope out, turning into a two-foot metal rod. "This is a pointer," he explains. "I use it when giving lectures. I also use it as a discipline tool."

"Ohhh..."

He lays the rod gently on my shoulder, up against my neck. "Don't worry. It will not be applied in a way that leaves any marks on your skin. But it does sting. In fact, you will refer to it as Mr. Sting. You will obey Mr. Sting's signals.

The cool metal caresses my cheek. I choose to believe him, that he will not let Mr. Sting hurt me, that it is just another symbol of his power. Am I a fool?

A twist of his wrist brings the tip under my chin. "Stand up," he orders. "I am ready to unwrap you."

I struggle to my feet, unsteady on my high heels. He walks around me, trailing Mr. Sting over my thighs and hips, tapping and probing, testing the resilience of my flesh...then up under my suit jacket, levering it open, pressing the rod against my breasts. I shiver and close my eyes.

With his free hand he slips the suit jacket off my shoulders and lets it drop to the floor. My thin blouse and bra offer no protection against the hard metal that slides over my chest. It lingers on the protruding nubs, flicking up and down.

"Put your hands behind you and grab your elbows," he says. "Shoulders back, tits out."

"Oh, Jesus..."

"That's it." His fingers move. "One button, two buttons, three buttons. Very nice. My, look how they strain, trying to burst free. I wonder how they will feel a few taps from Mr. Sting."

"Please..."

"Please what? Please tame you? Please force you to do what I want?"

"YES, DAMN IT. Just don't hurt me."

He grabs my hair and pulls my head back. "We'll see. Be a good girl, and you'll be fine. But you will have to be spanked. You know that don't you."

"Ohhh..."

The last button is undone, and my blouse joins the jacket on the floor. I'm glad I'm wearing my sexiest bra. His eyes devour me. With my hands still behind me I wiggle my tits at him. I want him to squeeze them.

But he just smiles. "Not so fast, my dear. I'm going to take my sweet time with you. Let's get rid of this skirt first. Ah, ah... don't move your hands."

I hear the zipper. My skirt slides down over my hips. Now I am in panties, bra, thigh-gripping stockings, and heels—exposed for his pleasure (and mine). I love the way he is doing me. My pussy is like a swamp.

"Step out of your clothes," he orders. "Walk to me."

I move toward him, extending my arms to embrace him, eager to feel his hard body against mine. But he backs away, shaking his head.

"Naughty, naughty. You didn't keep your hands behind you. Now I'm going to have to tie them."

Quickly I thrust my hands back. "Sorry, sir," I say, with my sexiest pout.

It is too little, too late. He takes off his tie and spins me around. In seconds my wrists are bound together behind me. For some reason I am not afraid. I think only about the good tie that he has ruined, and the fact that my breasts are now totally vulnerable.

He walks around me, tapping me with the pointer, my thighs, my ass, my stomach, my tits. Then he runs a hand over my bare shoulders and down onto the flesh pushed up by my bra.

"Nice tits. Not too big. I think I'll feel down in here and see what seems to be trying to drill a hole. Ah... here it is."

"Ummm..." I moan as he scissors my nipple between two fingers. Then his big hand engulfs the whole, and squeezes.

"OH!" I squeal and stamp my feet. It hurts so good.

He laughs, and I hear the pointer drop on the floor. He uses his freed hand to slip the rear clasp on my bra. My bare tits are now at his disposal. He teases and massages them, pulling on the nipples and driving me nuts.

"You may kiss me now," he says, using my tits as handles to pull me into him. I raise my mouth to his, my lips parted, and my tongue darting out. He receives me, but let's me do all the work. I know it's part of the game. He likes humiliating me, and knows I get off on it.

As I tongue him he moves a hand down my stomach and under the edge of my panties. I gasp, but hold the kiss. When his hand stops I come up on my toes, urging his fingers further down. He nips my tongue with his teeth, then pulls back. "Close your eyes and spread your legs," he orders.

I do as he says, and his hand is all over my slippery nest, his fingers working into the folds, caressing and rubbing. My hips respond with a humping motion against his hand. I am going nuts and mumble into his mouth..

"OHHH...OHHHH...GODDDD...DON'T STOP... PLEASE... OHHHH.."

The intensity of my sexual response is all consuming. Never have I come this far, this fast. My body is singing, the crescendo building. And it's not just the physical sensations. It's in my head, his power, my submission, the humiliation, the abruptness of the whole thing.

He breaks the kiss, uses his free hand to seize my hair and yank my head back so that I am looking up into his face. His eyes are hot. With his other hand he continues to work me, avoiding the spot that we both know will send me over the top.

"You need this, Carol. You need a man to own you, play with your body, take you to another place. Tell me..."

I am taking shallow breaths, holding on. "YES... YES... Take me... Any way you want..."

He smiles. "This is the way I want, for the first time. My hand. I won't make you wait. You will want more. And so will I. Now cum for me, Carol.

His thumb finds my clit. My hips act on their own, twisting and bouncing my ass on the desk. I push back and cry out. On and on it goes.

***

I am sitting on the edge of the bed. He has untied my hands and removed all my clothing, except for my stockings and heels. In contrast to my nakedness, only his tie is missing as he sits in the chair by the bed and studies me. He has not even removed his suit coat.

"Are you going to fuck me now, sir?" I ask, letting my thighs fall open. Why am I being such a slut with this man? Well, why not? He is such a stud.

"Would you like that?" he muses.

"You know I would. You told me I would want more. I do."

"All in good time. First you are going to do for me what I did for you. You will use your hands and your mouth."

I am not surprised. Men are so predictable. Fortunately I love massaging and licking a nice, hard cock. But I play my part as the forced woman and pretend to be horrified.

"You want me to give you a blow job?"

He laughs. "As if you didn't know. How many BJ's have you given in your life, Carol?"

"Oh, sir. What kind of girl do you think I am? You will have to show me how."

"I doubt that. But I will instruct you the way I like it... slow and teasing... lots of tongue... a minimum of the deep throat stuff."

That's a relief. One old boyfriend almost choked me to death. "Yes sir, whatever you say, sir."

He stands up and walks over to the bed. "You can begin by removing my clothes. You can touch any part of me except for the most important part. That will cum later."

We both smile at the pun. "Yes sir, I understand sir."

So he likes being teased. I'm good at that. I will drive him crazy, do him the way he did me.

End of Chapter 1