Secret Admirer

Everyone depicted in this story is above the age of 18.

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I'm laying, blindfolded, on the motel bed. It's a surprisingly cute and clean place for being so far from the city centre. I've cuffed myself to the bedframe as you've instructed, waiting breathlessly for you to arrive.

Your exact instructions were to cuff myself to the bed, naked and blindfolded, and to wait for your arrival with the door unlocked. At first, I thought it was a crazy idea, but the more you described what you planned to do to me, the more excited I became.

I met you online, on a website my mischievous friend had told me about in enthusiastic whispers over lunch in our drab office. I was instantly intrigued and decided to make a profile. It was a matter of days before we connected there. It didn't take long for you to cajole me into meeting. However, it took a bit longer once you proposed the blindfold for our first meeting.

We'd traded a few pictures, but none of our faces. So your identity was a mystery. That actually thrilled me, not knowing who was going to part my pussy lips and slide inside of me.

However, it had been almost 30 minutes in my estimation since I'd laid down on the bed, and you were nowhere to be found. Surely I'd gotten the time wrong, or time just seemed to be dragging by more slowly in my heightened state of anticipation.

Finally, after what felt like hours, I heard the doorknob turn and felt the cold October air caress my naked form. It didn't take long for you (at least I hoped it was you) to close the door behind you. Which is when I heard the lock click into place, sending a shiver of delicious fear up my spine.

I could feel your weight as you perched on the edge of the bed. My breath caught in my throat as your fingertips gently stroked my ankle, pulling my left leg away from my right and revealing my freshly waxed pussy. You sighed softly in appreciation before standing up again. I could hear you walking around, hear the rustling of discarded clothing, hear the zzzzzzzip of a duffel bag being opened.

We hadn't actually discussed what you were planning to do to me, so I had no idea what was in your bag of tricks. But somehow, without me noticing, you were suddenly by my side, shoving what I assumed to be the panties I'd worn to the motel into my mouth and taping them in place. I could taste myself on my tongue, making my pussy wetter by the second. I imagined I must have made quite a mess by then.

Just then, a single finger traced the outline of my left nipple, causing my back to arch in surprise and forcing a small whimper out past the lace thong in my mouth. You didn't say a word, but you didn't stop fingering my rock hard nipple. I would have begged and pleaded with you to grab hold of my entire breast and knead it passiionately, had I been able to speak.

But just as I thought I would explode, your hand withdrew, and was replaced with a cold clamp, squeezing my oversensitive nipple. Soon, a second clamp pinched tight my right nipple, eliciting another pathetic moan.

You stood again, leaving my overheated body to writhe in your absence. This time, when you returned, your knees parted my legs further, and you settled between my thick thighs. Your kisses on my neck were surprisingly gentle, a beautiful counterpoint to the roughness of you tugging on the chain connecting my clamped nipples. Desperate for release, I began to rub my dripping pussy on your thigh. Firmly, you pressed your hand to my stomach, pushing my round ass back onto the bed.

That was when I became addicted to your touch: the moment your nimble fingers finally parted my folds, barely brushing my clit before delving into the depths of my desire. I swear, had your other hand not been securely holding my throat, I would have swallowed those panties right there. I came like a firehose, squirting my pussy juices onto your hand and soaking the bed.

I could hear you chuckle as you pulled your fingers from inside of me, finally, FINALLY, replacing them with the hardest, most realistic strap-on I'd ever felt. I wriggled and bucked, trying to get you to impale my pussy faster, but you simply held my hips steady and continued your slow intrusion into my hungry centre.

You sighed as your hips finally rested against mine, and I had never felt so full or so satisfied in my life. I breathed deeply, trying to memorize your body as it lay atop me.

All too soon (or not soon enough -- my body was unable to decide), your hips pulled away from mine and ever so slowly began to creep forward again, sliding that 8" long, 2" thick strap-on into my soaked channel. Every time you pulled out, you would enter me again a bit faster until you were slamming your hips against mine with reckless abandon.

I lost count of my orgasms around the 12th one. I was awash in ecstasy, totally at your mercy, and loving every filthy second of it. It wasn't until you finally pulled out for the last time that I realized how huge that strap-on had really been. My pussy felt like a gaping hole, but it was definitely ready for more. But rather than insert anything into me, you removed the clamps from my nipples.

I moaned in protest, but it was clear you were packing up for the night. You wiped my sweating, heaving body with a warm cloth, removing the salt and fluids from my skin. You uncuffed my now-abused wrists from the headboard and kissed my cheek.

But you weren't done with me quiiiiite yet. I reached up to rip the tape from my lips when you stayed my hand, leaning down to whisper, "Not yet."

Like the good little sub I am, I rested my hands by my sides excitedly. You gently repositioned me so I was laying face down, blindfold and gag still in place, with my ass in the air.

"Mmmmf!" I exclaimed, feeling the cold lube coat my virgin asshole. Slowly, but surely, you managed to work a small and, unbeknownst to me, monogrammed butt plug into my throbbing ass. You patted my ass cheek, as if to say, "Good job, bitch," and stood, dressed and ready to leave.

"One more instruction: wear that plug to work every day for the next week. I want your ass ready to fuck by next month. Meet me here next week, same time, and we'll move on to a larger plug."

With that, the door clicked shut, and I could finally breathe. I nearly sobbed, an emotional catharsis to match the physical one I'd experienced. You were a master and it showed. And there was no way I'd miss our next appointment.