This hotel is a favorite of ours. We stay here whenever we're in town, in no small part because the shower is so good. It may sound silly to you, but when you travel as much as we do, a room with some personality is important. The shower here is a big tiled stall, roomy enough for two, with a glass door on one wall, and a tiled bench running across the back. I remembered the last time we were here, she'd sat on that bench and sucked me off, hot water pouring down over both of us. I was hopeful now to re-live that memory.
She was already under the water when I swung the door open and slipped in next to her. I took the bar of soap from her hand, turned her away from me, and began soaping her back. I worked my way down to her ass, knelt down and washed her legs and feet, then stood and slipped a soapy hand between her legs. She pressed against me for a moment, sighed, then turned around, pulling away.
"Not now, Nick," she said. "Later."
She smiled and looked at me kindly and took the soap back from me. She washed me, working soap all over me. I luxuriated in the hot water and the feeling of her hands on my skin. Then she sat on the bench and pulled me close, bringing my cock within a hair's breadth of her mouth. I waited, even though I wanted to take her head in my hands and slide my cock to the back of her throat. She didn't move though, and she held me in place with her stillness.
She looked up at me. "Remember the last time we stayed here, Nicky?" She said. "Are you thinking about that?"
"I am."
"I am too," she said. "That was so nice." She licked the tip of my cock playfully, then stood up and handed me the soap. She pushed me gently to the side and began rinsing herself under the water. "To bad you'll have to wait for the encore," she said, grinning at me.
"Oh god, Kate," I said, feeling like I was going to break. "I can't wait..."
She turned away suddenly and snapped off the water, then turned back to me, her face hard, her playful, teasing tone gone. "This is what you call service?" She asked. "You eat my pussy once, and then you spend the rest of the weekend begging me to suck your cock? Is that how you think this is going to work?" She seemed genuinely angry. I felt like I'd misunderstood what we were doing. Our weekend game seemed suddenly not very game-like.
"No, Kate, I..." I started.
"Be quiet," she said. She was dead serious. She opened the shower door. "Stay here," she said, wrapping herself in a towel and closing the door. I was, once again, pulled up short by the unexpected turn of events. What's more, I was cold, standing there in the shower dripping wet. I wanted to turn on the water, but I didn't know if I had permission. Fuck, permission? What was going on? Should I ask for a time-out? Was this even a game?
Whatever it was, and despite the cold, my dick was still hard. I decided to leave the water off and keep my mouth shut. In any event, she was back soon enough, wrapped in a robe, handing me a towel. "Dry off," she said.
She sat on the bench, waiting for me to dry myself. She said, "The third kind of service is chastity service." I caught my breath. She produced a little plastic device, translucent, complicated, somehow penis-shaped. A cage designed to wrap around my cock. "I'm going to put this on your cock and lock it until I want it unlocked. This will allow you to give me chastity service."
"Fuck, Kate," I said. "What is chastity service?
"In chastity service, you don't ask me for sex. You don't ask me to blow you. You don't ask me for anything. Your dick won't be able to get hard—there's no room in the cage for that. So sex for you is off the table—until I put it on the table, do you understand?"
I nodded, genuinely scared.
"Chastity service is unlike cock-ring service and nipple-clamp service—it doesn't have a time limit."
