Hotel Encounter
An experienced dominant meets up with a young woman in an anonymous hotel room. He has all the tricks, but he simply can't resist unwrapping his gift early.
She stands outside the hotel room door. Feeling nervous, she touches her hand over her hair, ensuring that it lies straight over her shoulders. Tapping lightly at the door, she hears his footsteps and then the latch. The door opens a crack, but no more, and she hears his footsteps again.
Pushing the door open wider, she peers into the half-lit room, and sees him taking a seat in an armchair at the end of the large bed. Stepping towards him, she lets the door swing shut behind her with an ominous click. This is it, she thinks, this is the culmination of all those texts, those nights spent sending messages and sharing photos..
She looks at him, sitting nonchalantly in the chair, sipping from a glass half-filled with an amber liquid. He is wearing a suit, complete with jacket and neck tie, his legs crossed, his formal shoes glinting in the light of the bedside lamp. He seems so calm, so quiet, quite the opposite from the way she feels. Her stomach is tight with nerves, her body tingling, she is aware of the dampness in her underwear, the arousal between her thighs emanating from her core.
‘Good evening, Miss’, his voice rolls around those words, as rich and viscous as the drink in his hand. His English accent caresses her ears, and she feels her voice tremble as she responds, ‘good evening, Sir’.
‘Undress, please.’ Holy shit.. he catches her unaware with his request. She feels her fingers shaking as she dips her head and reaches behind her back for the zipper of her dress. ‘Raise your head’, he says, ‘look me in the eye.’
She lifts her eyes to meet his piercing gaze. Her cheeks flush as she draws down the zipper, feeling the fabric loosen on her shoulders. She lifts her hands and slips the shoulder straps down, allowing the dark fabric to fall slowly down over her body, the satin lining caressing her skin as it drops.
As it reaches the floor, she lifts her knee to step out of it. She watches him, studying her. Never has she felt so self-conscious, and yet so desirable. He motions his hand to direct her to the bed. ‘Take your position, Miss’, he instructs ‘on hands and knees.’
She steps to the bed, leaning forward and crawling on all fours onto the pristine cotton sheets. She feels the fresh linen beneath her palms, and through the silk stockings covering her knees. She looks back, searching for his approval. He stands, glass in hand, and runs his hand over her rump, up her back, following the line of her spine with his fingertips. She shivers, feeling his touch send shards of pleasure across her skin. His hand reaches her neck, and she feels his fingers combing into her hair. She hears him place the glass down, then suddenly his fingers form a fist and grip her hair, tugging her head back. ‘You won’t be needing these’, he says, slipping his fingers under the waistband at the back of her panties and tugging at them, so hard that the waistband snaps at the seam and the narrow fabric of her thong tears at her hips before giving to his forceful pull, ending in a shredded mess on the floor.
She hears him draw a deep breath through her nostrils as he dips his head to her ass, his fingers sliding between her thighs and caressing her engorged labia, smearing her wetness over her skin. ‘Good girl’, he says, ‘you are ready for Sir already, I see’.
She hears the sound of his belt buckle and the rustle of clothing as he removes his jacket and suit pants. This isn’t how she imagined he would be, their conversations had been so sweet, so gentle, so loving. He had shown her his dark side, of course, but she never believed for a minute that he could actually be so dominant with her. She trembles and lets out a sigh as she feels him press his warm thick cockhead between her thighs, sliding it up and down along her ass crack and down over her perineum before pressing himself forward, guiding it inexorably inside her wet cunt with his hand.
Holy fuck.. her eyes roll as she feels his heat penetrating her, his hand gripping her hair, the other now pressed to the small of her back as she raises her bum and spreads her knees wider to invite him deeper. He begins to thrust, deep and slow, causing her to let out a moan as she feels his thickness stretch her wide. Fuck.
Her fingers grip the sheets as she feels him fill her, his mons pubis pressing against her ass with each stroke of his cock. Her head swims, she can feel him swell right before she hears him grunt loudly, and then it comes, the pulsing of his shaft against her flesh as he holds it still, draining his thick warm seed inside her. A frown forms on her face, is that it, she thinks, is that what I’ve come into town for, is that the climax of all the months of anticipation, a 5 minutes doggy style fuck, no orgasm and a pussy full of mess for my trouble.
She turns her head, expecting him to withdraw and collapse on the bed to sleep, as so many of these selfish lovers had done in the past. ‘You’re disappointed?’ He asked her, a wry smile on his face.
‘A little, perhaps’, she answered, her cheeks flushing again.
‘I had to get that out of my system; I don’t apologise, I have ached for you for so long I just needed you to be a vessel for me, to have you for my own, in the most selfish way, before we can make a proper night of this.’
A quizzical look spread over her face. She noted his cock was staying hard inside her, acting like a plug to his warm radiating cum, filling her core with a comforting glow. He holds it there, a deep throb emanating against the walls of her pussy, while she watches him release his necktie and unbutton his shirt. He discards his shirt on the floor, giving her a moment to enjoy the way he looks. His torso is toned, not muscular, but is broad, clearly the result of much hard work over his long decades, for a 40yr old man he is healthy looking, not the kind of pot-bellied fatso she had feared he might be when they first began talking. But he is no Hollywood actor either, she thinks, he has a realness, an earthyness to him that she finds fascinating. She wonders what he has in store for her, now that he has had his satisfaction from her. Clearly he has plans...
He instructs her to rest her face on the bed, and as he traces his hands from her round ass up her sides, over her lace suspender belt, over her bra strap to her shoulders, she does so, feeling the warmth of her breath on her face as she lets it ease into the soft cotton sheets. She feels each of his hands across her shoulders, down her arms, to her wrists. She feels his cock slip from her oozing cunt, followed by his cum trickling out, dripping down her thighs, the warmth of his bodily fluid against her skin. She feels a slight contraction as she pictures the way he sees her. His hands draw her wrists up to the small of her neck, one moving to grip both of her arms together, and then she feels the gentle caress of his silk neck tie as he wraps it around her wrists, binding them together behind her back.
Once bound, she senses his movements behind her. He steps away from her, and she hears the chink of ice-cubes against glass as he picks up his whiskey and takes a sip. She shudders involuntarily when she feels the chill of an ice-cube on her burning hot labia, the combination of the cold and the slippery wetness sending a thrill through her groin. She moans into the bed, her sounds muffled against the Egyptian cotton shrouding her face.
She feels the warmth of his tongue on her labia, then down each thigh in turn as he laps up his own cum from her skin, rising to press his lips to her tingling sex, then upwards over her perineum to probe her tight ass hole. Her mind drifts as the pleasure of his attention spreads through her body. She gives herself to him in this moment, relinquishing control of her body to his desire..
As his tongue circles and probes her ass, then moves back down to taste her source, her body tenses at his touch, her hips rocking slowly at first. She feels him press a fingertip against her ass while he lavishes kisses and licks between her labia, the smell of him, his cum, his aftershave, the whiskey, filling the air around them.
She begins to feel the rising of her climax in her core as his tongue dances over her pussy, the sound of it slipping in her wetness loud in the otherwise silent room. Her thighs begin to tremble and she feels her toes curling in her high-heeled shoes, her fingers clenching as she struggles against the binding at her wrists. Her body seems to be separate from her mind as her climax overtakes her, washing through her like a wave, breaking on the rocks of his mouth and chin, her cum flowing over his tongue as her legs shake and her torso convulses..
He withdraws as he watches her quivering, letting his finger trace over her clenching little ass as he does so, leaving her trembling on the bed before him. She turns her head to see him reaching for his drink, and his suit pants from the floor. ‘You came quickly, babe’, he says. She’s unsure of whether to answer, so she nods her head against the bed, craning her neck to watch him in the half-light. ‘Too quickly’, he says.
Her face flushes bright red; it was a bad thing.. she feels the heat of shame across her cheeks.
‘What should I do, Miss, to ensure that it doesn’t happen again..?’ His voice is loaded with intent. She doesn’t know how to answer, but it matters not, it is a rhetorical question. His hands grip her hips and roll her over onto her back, laying flat with her arms tucked beneath her. He reaches into a small overnight case at the side of a bed and draws out two bundles of silk rope. He stands a moment, admiring the glistening wet folds between her thighs, coated with a cocktail of his and her cum, murmurs something unintelligible under his breath and set to work wrapping one of the thin silk braids around her left thigh and shin, binding her leg in a crouched position, her stocking clad heel pressing to her bare ass. She feels the dichotomous sensation of the soft silk rope given an edge by the tightness of the binding. He repeats with the right leg with the second rope, forming broad bands around her leg. He returns to the case and takes out a sharp looking knife, setting it on the bedside table, then a third rope, purple, with which he forms a lattice binding starting at her neck, criss-crossing her chest and belly and finishing with two strands between her thighs, one pressing each side of her labia. His firm hands move her as he wraps, positioning her for his ease, while he knelt beside her on the bed, his naked form remaining just out of reach of her hungry lips as she watches him work.