The Room

It is time. As you were told in the IRC message, you punch in the code and enter the hotel room at 8:00 p.m. precisely. Looking around, you see a masseur couch placed precisely in the centre of the room, the gleaming white walls reflecting a long bench occupying one wall. Stepping nearer you see a sheet covering two trays and are tempted to explore what is underneath. Your hand reaches out, fingertips linger on the covering, but jerk back as you remember the message:

Use the code 8762 and enter the room at 8:00. Do not explore......

.....and lie on the couch in only your panties. The safeword is........

.....violets. Wait for me.

Undressing, you shiver, despite the room's warmth. Fingers fumbling at the tiny buttons of your silk plum blouse, then it sensuously slithers down one arm, then the next and floats to the ground. Contrasting silk skirt swirling down silken thighs, and forming a dark puddle on the floor. The wisp of lace that is your brassiere uncupping from your high breasts and vanishing as if borne on the wind. You shiver again, unsure if it is with anticipation or with fear and lie on the coach as instructed. A faint hum begins to form in your head almost hypnotic in its silence. Suddenly the lights dim, and your surroundings are swallowed in the gloom. A speaker on the ceiling eases into life, and womb-like sounds fill the room with their swoosh, swoosh and the steady thump, thump of a heartbeat. You feel as if you are floating adrift on a sea of amniotic fluid, safe and secure. Your eyes close and the tension ebbs away from your body.

You hear a sound. Instantly your body snaps to rigidity. The swish of a door opening, and the click! as it closes again. You can feel a presence in the room. Not a sound is uttered as you await whatever is going to happen. Only a whisper of breathing mingled with soft womb sounds breaks the silence. Your nostrils twitch as a faint scent reaches them. You sort the elements, the faint background of rich tobacco, the highlights of sweat, the sweetness of a musky perfume. No, wait! It is aftershave. The clues click into place as its very maleness overwhelms. You start as a strip of cool material is placed over your eyes, and your arms are pulled above your head where they are gently secured to the couch by what feels like silk. Unseen hands stroke your hair and touch your face giving security in their softness. Footsteps take him away and your ankles are gripped and secured, legs spread wide.

The cloth over your eyes is backlit as a light springs to life. You now know that only the thin material of silken panties protects your feminine centre from his gaze. You hear a rustle from the bench, and a metallic sound. The room goes quiet again, the music no longer playing, the only sound a slow measured breathing. The tension increases as you feel the silence. The clinking starts again, and a warm hand touches your leg just above the knee.

You stifle a groan as the hand travels up your leg until it comes to rest on the waistband of your panties. Cold metal shocks your skin and you hear the snip, snip as scissors dissect the flimsy material. A hand lifts your buttocks, and the scrap of silk is withdrawn leaving you open and exposed to him. The hand returns as a finger traces the outline of your labia, encouraging the moistness. Fingers part your lips, and you feel the slightly colder air against the heat inside. You hold your breath as your clitoris is stroked and persuaded into erection.

The hands leave you, and your hips buck in disappointment. They return shortly, and your womanhood suddenly feels icy cold as a spray is directed on it, the contrast between heat and cold exciting you, your hips involuntarily moving. A sharp slap stops them. More strange noises and you can no longer feel the fingers you know are encircling your clitoris. The metallic noises echo in your ears, and your anticipation is growing intense. The word 'violets' is formed by your lips but dies away before escaping. You hear rather feel a small pop, and wonder what it was. Footsteps move away and leave you alone for a little while.

A tingling sensation begins in your vagina as the feeling returns. Something is different, but you cannot quite make out what it is. He returns and resumes the soft stroking of your labia. You cannot help moaning a little now as his movements elicit the flow of your juices. You thrust slightly to encourage a faster rhythm, but he ignores that and carries on as before. Full feeling has now returned and you can smell the musky aroma of your arousal. Your thigh muscles strain as you try to bring your clitoris into contact with the stroking, but his finger stops enticingly close.

A strident buzzing disturbs the quiet. You have heard that sound before. You jump as a new sensation replaces the one caused previously by his fingers and your womanhood becomes even wetter, your lips opening and spreading as if by magic. The buzzing changes in timbre and your hips rocket from the couch as the most exquisite thrill runs through your clitoris. But the instrument is not actually touching your bud. You try to analyse as your pleasure increases, hips rolling. Suddenly you realise - he has inserted a clitoris ring! Armed with that knowledge, you become aware of the thin gold hoop passed through the skin at the apex of your slit, encircling your clitoral hood. The slight pull where it puckers your flesh.

That realisation chases you toward the edge. The vibrations are intensified by contact with the ring, which are then transmitted through to your bud of pleasure. You try to mumble thank-you, but are rewarded with a sharp slap which instructs you to keep quiet. A distant orgasm telegraphs it's imminent arrival as you abandon yourself to enjoyment.

The first vibrator is joined by a second, which glides easily into your wet pussy - only about three inches deep where the sensations are most acute. It is thrust gently in and out whilst the second plays over the golden ring, newly inserted through and around your clitoris. The feeling is one that hovers on the edge of being unbearable, but you know that if he stops you will simply expire. Your juices now feel like a torrent and your pussy begins it's clamping. Your thigh muscles are quivering and the buzzing noise is almost drowned by your breathing and groaning.

Your orgasm starts to build, it's arrival signalled by your panting. As it grows your hips start to thrust and rock in a fucking motion. The sensation in your clitoris is one small step short of pain, and the most intense pleasure starts inside you, it's waves radiating outwards. Your orgasm hits! Your violent bucking does not dislodge the causes of your ecstasy, and the new sensation of your clitoris being vibrated in unison with your filled cunt is intense. A scream escapes you, and he does not attempt to silence it this time. All other thought is lost as you cum, the exquisite pleasure seeming to carry on and on and on.....……..

You orgasm recedes into the distance. Knowing that, he winds down the clitoral play as he realises how sensitised you will have become there. The thrusting in your womanhood gets slower and slower until he removes the vibrator, seeming to leave you wide open and exposed. You feel a new sensation as a kiss is placed on your still quivering lips, the texture of male bristles contrasting with the softness of you. Gentle hands remove the blindfold and untie your limbs. Footsteps move across the room, darkness descends the door clicks twice and he is gone.