I'm writing this in several parts for a friend via email and thought I might share:
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You hurry into the hotel lobby, almost at a sprint, slowing down just as you come into sight of reception. Nervously, you approach the counter; after some pleasantries, you give them your name and they pass you an envelope. Opening it, you find a keycard and a piece of paper with a number on it: 57.
Butterflies in your stomach, you ask for directions and are shown down a corridor to your room. Stepping inside, you shut the door behind you and look around. Just a normal Travelodge room - double bed, a TV, couple of chairs, a desk and an ensuite bathroom.
On the bed is a note and some handcuffs - you scan the paper quickly, making sure you understand the instructions before you open your travel case. You hurry to the bathroom, shedding your work clothes as you go; you don't have much time.
In the bathroom, you apply heavy black eyeliner, tie your hair into a ponytail, check your body for spare hairs and get into your leather basque, snapping sheer black stockings into the suspenders. Finally, you pull silky crotchless panties up your legs. A once-over in the mirror and you're fine; you race into the bedroom - 1 minute left.
You switch the overhead light off and turn on the two lamps, clearing your clothes tidily into your suitcase and placing it in the wardrobe. One last look around at the now tidy room and you step into the corner, facing the wall - snapping the handcuffs
around your wrists behind your back.
You wait.
You wait for what seems like an eternity; you can hear your breathing, the basque tight against your chest. You might have done the handcuffs up too tight - your hands are beginning to tingle.
There's a beep and the slide of metal on metal; the door to the room opens. You hear footsteps on the carpet; they get near and stop. Then a gentle rustle of clothing. And then silence again.
You dare not turn around.
Your heart is pounding; you're really doing this. After months of emails back and forth, you couldn't hold out any longer. Your impatience was too much; you'd thought about this moment for so long. And now here you are. Giving yourself to him.
"Come here. Slowly." I say - a rich voice piercing the silence in the room. You jump; you've not heard his voice before this moment - you'd not even seen him before. But still you came.
You turn, slowly, head bowed, until you're facing the source of the voice. Deliberately, one foot after the other, you step forward until your averted eyes see his shoes...
"Look at me" the voice says. You slowly bring your head up, taking in his body until you're looking into his deep, powerful eyes. You've never gazed on them before, but something in you finds comfort in them, a warm embrace from the wisdom within.
"Why were you late? Do you have an excuse?"
You'd left your house early, sneaking out before your partner could catch you stuffing your bag with the things you would need for tonight. You only had a 20 minute drive ahead of you but the motorway was a carpark. Speeding the final mile, you'd only made it to the hotel a minute later than told to.
You shake your head.
"What was that? Speak, pet.'
"No."
"No what?"
"No sir," you tremble.
"Come closer so I can touch you."
You move forward so you are stood between his open legs. He stands into your eyeline and puts a powerful, hot hand to your cheek, running it down your face to your neck, soft but electric on your skin.
"I'm glad you dressed as we agreed. Now turn around."
You turn on the spot and you can feel those eyes sweeping over your body, taking in every inch.
"Your tardiness cannot go unpunished. How do you suggest we deal with you?"
Your mind blanks...
"Present yourself"
Your mind races for a second until you realise you've discussed this. As your master sits back down, you turn back to the chair and bend over it and over his lap, your arse in the air.
Staring at the door to the room, the light in the corridor blinks in the peephole as other hotel guests walk past, oblivious to your presence. You blush all the same.
That same, firm hand runs down your back, tracing your spine through the leather until it reaches the cleft between your buttocks; a light squeeze of the left one, and a gentle caress.
Without warning, the hand is withdrawn and returned with a strong slap, the sharp sound of the smack echoing in your ears and the small room. You yelp first from surprise and then from the the sting in your left cheek.
"Keep quiet, pet"
Another caress on the now hot arse; another slap; another yelp, this time more of a whimper.
"Better" - his approval releases a little shiver of pleasure through you.
He spanks you three more times, each accompanied by a soothing caress. Your arse cheek is hot, flushed with blood rushing to the surface to meet his hand. By the fifth stroke, you're fidgeting, silently willing him to favour the other cheek with the same ministrations, but it never comes.
"Up."
You rise unsteadily, unable to use the hands still cuffed behind your back. He watches as you back up off the arms of the chair and into a crouch before straightening your legs, your leather-clad tits pushed out in front of you.
"Can I trust you to never be late again, pet?" he asks softly.
"Yes sir," you reply, mindful of your still-stinging posterior.
"Take position number 2."
You walk over to the bed with some confidence and once more bend at the waist, your ass in the air. You spread your legs wide, welcoming his inspection, your pussy starting to leak in anticipation.
He makes an approving chuckle and then moves to you. You can feel the heat from his leg as he stands next to you, inspecting what is now his.
"You have shaved recently. Good." he says as he reaches through the gaping gusset of your panties to lightly cup your mound, a whimper escaping your lips.
"Shhhh"
He pulls his hand away, your stickiness clinging to his hand.
"Position 3"
You push yourself onto the bed with your legs, sliding along the duvet. You tuck your legs under your torso and lift your arse in the air, inviting him in.
"Position 4"
You roll onto your back, your weight pressing down on your cuffed hands; you spread your legs.
"Position 8"
Shit! What is it? Weren't there only seven positions he'd told you about? Is there an eight?
"Position 8! Quickly now!"
It's gone... You can't remember it at all. You look at him in panic.
How can you have forgotten this one? You only looked over the list this morning.
"Do you not know position 8?"
"No sir," you mumble.
"Speak up!"
"No sir," you almost sob out.
"We're not off to a great start, are we little one?"
"No sir," you say, dropping your head back onto the bed and staring at the artexed ceiling.
"I guess I have no alternative then. Position 2. Now!"
You once more roll onto your stomach and scoot off the bed backwards until your bare feet touch the floor, spreading yourself wide.
Not daring to look, you hear him walk to the wardrobe to find your bag, unzipping it and searching inside.
"At least we have followed some instructions properly today," he says. "Everything that I asked for is here."
You wait for ages - he's staring at you. All sorts of things running through your head. If my partner could see me now... Well, this is real now!
But what a rush of endorphins! It feels right already.
You feel his finger run down your arse, lightly brushing your asshole before dipping between your moist lips and playfully flicking your clit.
"Tell me what this is"
There's a swish and a huge thwack as your right arse cheek explodes in a flash of pain. A large area of your bottom stings.
"Well, what is it?"
"Paddle, sir"
"That's right pet. Now I want you to count."
THWACK!
"One"
THWACK!
"Two"
THWACK!
"Three"
You count to ten - this time both cheeks get equal attention. Your arse is burning, your pussy squelching every time you fidget under a blow.
You hear a tube being opened and something cool is squirted onto you as he massages the moisturiser you brought into both rosy globes stuck out behind you.
"Well done pet; I hope your first taste of discipline was to your taste?"
You nod against the duvet, resisting the urge to thank him profusely...
