A quick stroker for the next time you’re stuck in a hotel room by yourself. TRIGGER WARNING: mild pain, restraint and breathplay with D/s dynamics contained in this story. Also written in first person present. Please pass by if any of these will cause you distress. If not, read on…
***
The breeze is cold as the escalator hums, carrying me to the first floor. The conversation had been terse as I stepped off the train.
Ask at reception for a letter. You’ll know what to do.
Anticipation swirls in my stomach at the thought, excitement blending with fear until I can’t separate the two.
The receptionist smiles warmly as I approach her, the sound of my boot heels ringing off the walls over the muted hum of my suitcase.
“I believe you have a letter for me?” I flash my ID and she nods, still smiling. The envelope is slim.
A room key falls as I draw out a single piece of paper, on the hotel’s letterhead.
*Room 209. Put on the blindfold from the desk and attach yourself to the cuffs under the bed, face down. I will be there shortly.*
I smile back at the receptionist and adjust my skirt.
“Thank you.” I’m fairly certain she hadn’t read the letter.
My hands are shaking as I make my way to the lift.
You don’t know this guy. He could be anyone.
The elevator dings, startling me from my reverie and I step out into the hallway, the corridor stretching off at either side. 209 to the right.
Just three doors and I pause, staring at the keycard in my hand. Was I sure about this?
I could feel that urge building, the heat damp between my legs, skittering along my nerve endings.
A deep breath and I watch the door pass beep and flash green. Juggling the card, envelope and suitcase, I back into the room.
It’s dimly lit, as I had asked. I breathe a sigh of relief as the door closes behind me and my eyes adjust. There, on the table, is the black blindfold from the letter. It’s nondescript, the type handed out by airlines on long-haul.
The bed is huge, crisp white linen slightly mussed as though someone had sat on one side. The pillows are piled in the centre and at the corners of the sheet, I can see the dull glint of the cuffs.
Remember to breathe. Inhale. Exhale.
I start to move almost mechanically. Suitcase in the wardrobe. Bag under the desk. Boots by the door. I glance at my watch and decide to keep it on. Only five minutes have passed since I entered the hotel, though it feels much longer. A quick check in the bathroom mirror to make sure that my makeup is still where I left it. A pass of the straighteners over my hair to get rid of the last of the humid frizz that had crept in from the station…and I’ve procrastinated enough.
I kneel on the bed – the cuffs at the bottom extend far further than I expect. I place one around an ankle, feeling the cold of the leather pinching my skin through my tights. The other goes on quicker. I pull the top two towards me and stop, a small frown furrowing my brow.
How to get them both on at once? And what about the blindfold?
Damn man seems to enjoy putting me in awkward positions.
Failure isn’t an option but I also don’t want him to walk in and see me flailing around, trying to get it right. I take a moment to think. The blindfold goes on, halfway down my nose, the small sliver of sight left magnifying the bed in front of me.
I tilt my head back to see the cuffs. I drag them as close in as possible, feeling the strain on the elastic underneath. Pulling the leather through the left buckle, I leave it loose and repeat on my right. Teeth finish the job. The taste of metal tingles on my tongue as I let the elastic pull me taut, arse raised on top of the pillows.
My skirt has fallen back, spilling over my sides but there’s nothing I can do about that now. Using my forehead, I push the blindfold down the last inch and settle down to wait.
Floating in the grey space behind my eyelids, the hush of the room is stifling, before my ears sharpen and sounds resolve into focus. The constant hum of the room’s air conditioner and further out, the sounds of people making their way home from Ümraniye Escort work. I drift, listening to the muted chatter and vehicles in the distance until a beep, loud in the still room, startles me.
I stiffen, adrenaline pouring through me again as I hear the door open. My heart pounds in my ears as a steadily quickening drumbeat. I can hear the sibilant rustle of shoes moving over the carpet towards me as panic sets in.
What the hell were you thinking? You’ve only spoken to him for a few days. No background checks. No socials. You probably don’t even know his name…
I half snort with laughter and the footsteps pause. I can try to explain, but I’m not sure that telling a complete stranger that I am laughing at the voice of reason for only belatedly deciding to make an appearance is wise. I stay quiet and they resume, away from me.
My ears strain for clues. I hear a jacket fall over the back of the chair and what sounds like a bottle being opened. The water, on the side. I hear swallowing before a deep voice, too close to my ear, asks if I would like some.
I jump and raise my head, the small amount of light that spills under the blindfold dazzling me, and shake it in response. I’m not sure I can trust my voice to be as calm and steady as I want to appear.
Warm fingers adjust the blindfold slightly, leaving me in darkness again. You must have been in the hotel the whole time or they would have been icy.
Your hand smooths down my back and over the curve of my arse and I feel myself shiver in response, even as I strain towards it. Another hand pulls my hair back from my face so it spills over my shoulders.
“Excellent. You’ve done well.”
Your hand is still on my arse, the warmth seeping through the fabric of my tights as you squeeze slightly.
You run it down my thigh and I feel them trembling in response. A flash of pure annoyance at my body for giving me away so easily is swamped when a thumb firmly strokes over my crotch and I buck against it, gasping.
My skin is left cold as you pull it away and I realise how wet I’ve become. The thumb presses against my lips and I open my mouth, letting it slide in, tasting the faint, musky sweetness. You leave it in my mouth, pulling down so it is ever so slightly uncomfortable.
Your other hand reaches around my face, cradling my jaw, thumb stroking my neck with just enough pressure to push my head up. I can’t see anything but I can feel your breath on my cheek. My shoulders begin to burn with the effort of staying upright.
Lips meet mine, soft but unyielding, tasting me. I run my tongue over your lower lip and bite down gently, just enough to create a resistance. I hear you growl quietly and you deepen the kiss, getting hungrier, more urgent. I respond in kind, trying to pull my arms back so I can wrap them around your neck, touch your face.
Then there’s just empty space in front of me as I fall forward. I hear the clink of a belt buckle being drawn, the whisper of leather through fabric. I tense my buttocks instinctively.
Shit…I’m not sure I can take a buckle.
Without warning, cold leather loops around my throat, pinching the skin, difficult to breathe. There’s pressure as it’s pulled taut, my head rising from the bedcovers.
I panic and a hand lands on my arse, and again, stinging and burning before the pain fades. I can feel you move around me, my head falling back to the sheets as you pull my my tights down, leaving me suddenly cold and vulnerable. The leather of the belt is still wrapped around my throat, cool against my breasts. The slaps come harder, four short interspersed with a rub to soothe the ache away.
The pain quickly escalates as you unerringly manage to catch the same spot, just at the base of the cheeks each time. I yelp, trying to move away but fingers wind themselves into my hair, the prickling at my scalp warning me to be still.
Fuck. I realise that we’ve not talked about safewords…and ouch is definitely not a safeword.
There’s really not much you can do about this.
That thought worms its way into my head amongst the growing crescendo of heat İstanbul Escort and pain and something seems to click inside. Every muscle relaxes, letting the sensations wash over me, each blow sending a razor-sharp tingling dancing along my nerve endings.
They end, just as abruptly as they started, as if you somehow knew I’d stopped fighting against it. A hand caresses over the tender skin and I moan as a finger brushes over my soaking lips, leaving a trail of cold wetness behind.
They dip in deeper, sliding in slickly and I can hear myself moaning louder, the pleasure more intense after the pain that came before it. There’s a pause and I can feel you move behind before the fingers probe in again, at least two, curving and flicking inside me as they thrust. Your other hand pushes my lower back down, pinning me in place and I can’t move, only thrust back against the fingers, crying out when your thumb moves gently over my clit at the same time.
“Not yet. Tell me when you’re close.”
Your words filter into my consciousness, fighting against the rising waves of pleasure. I mewl something unfathomable in response as I try to bring myself back under control but your fingers won’t stop, flicking over the same spot each time they drive in.
I can feel the wave cresting and I call out, low and urgent. You withdraw, giving me two sharp, stinging slaps to my inner thigh as you go, the pain washing the pleasure away. I sink back down in relief but your fingers start up their relentless rhythm again.
“Again. Tell me when you’re close.”
It takes far less time to reach that point again, writhing against your arm on my back as I struggle to contain myself, feeling those sharp slaps bruising my thighs.
“Again.”
I lose count of the number of times I teeter on the edge, brought back by the pain in my legs. Drenched in sweat and voice hoarse, each brushing movement seems designed to force me over, legs trembling with the need for release.
“Please…”
“Please, what?”
“Oh, fuck. I’m going to come.”
Another two slaps.
“Please, what?”
Your fingers start up again.
I groan. “Please, I need to cum. I’m going to cum.”
My legs are on fire as you deliver another two.
“Again.”
I make an inarticulate noise, somewhere in my chest.
“What were you saying?”
I force the words out. “Please let me cum. Please.”
I feel myself tipping over again and shout out. Four slaps this time before you start up.
“You sure you want to cum?”
Every muscle in my body is burning, aching.
“Yes. Fuck, yes, please.”
“Then cum.”
My body seems to light on fire as I collapse onto the mattress, spasming as my orgasm rips through me. I can hear myself screaming into the duvet, muffled but still audible.
I wait for you to subside but you keep on going, even as I incoherently beg you to stop. I try and twist away but your arm on my back pins me in place, the cuffs making it impossible to get any purchase. There’s no words any more, just breathless cries as I sob, waves crashing over me.
After what feels like an eternity, you finally let up, leaving me panting and quivering in a heap on the bed. At some point, my blindfold has ridden up and you secure it back into place. A hand strokes my damp hair as you release my arms from the cuffs, pulling the belt tight around my neck again.
“Water?” I nod, and your arm goes round the back of my neck, steadying me as you lift the bottle to my lips. I bring my hands up to help, brushing your arm. Your skin is warm, hair coarse to the touch.
The cuffs on my feet are untied and I stretch my legs gratefully. I feel your hands on my shoulders turning me, pushing me back against the mattress. My top is tugged over my head, stretching my arms and you lift me into a seated position as you unclip my bra with a practised motion. My skirt follows suit, pulled down over my feet with my tights.
Cuffs tighten around my wrists and ankles again but it feels strange, I’m stretched far wider, though there’s nothing supporting my head.
The air-conditioning dances over my skin, raising Anadolu Yakası Escort goosebumps and causing my nipples to pucker and stiffen. You run a hand over my collarbone and across my breasts, fingers twisting a nipple, sending shivers through me. I feel heat rising between my legs.
I can’t possibly need to cum again after that.
There’s the scuff of buttons being undone just behind my head, the rustle of trousers falling to the floor. I want to reach out, touch something with my hands but the cuffs hold me in place. You pull the excess belt down and pin it to the floor, like you’re standing on it. I can only just breathe, little gasps that don’t fill my chest and I can’t lift my head at all. I can feel little crackles of electricity dancing up and down my nerves, radiating out from between my legs and I moan.
The warmth of your thighs bleeds into my shoulders as you stand behind me, your thumbs caressing my exposed throat around the belt, pressing down as my head gets heavy. A short spike of adrenaline courses through me but I relax back into it, enjoying the sensation of your fingers around my neck, thumbs squeezing against my windpipe.
Something presses against my lips, firm and hot, and I open my mouth automatically. You slide in to the hilt before I have time to react, thumbs pressing against my throat, making it bulge.
I choke, trying to gasp round you and failing as you slip the last extra half inch in, hearing you groan. I try and pull back but my head is trapped against the side of the bed by your thighs.
You withdraw half way and I wheeze in air, just in time for you to slam home again, your hand still pressing down around my throat.
You start thrusting and I moan, trying to snatch enough air between but never quite managing it. My head begins to pound, skin tingling with pins and needles, my nose and eyes running as I choke and splutter.
I can feel your movements getting more urgent and you start to swell and thicken in my mouth, cutting off my air supply even when you withdraw. Panic floods my system and my body thrashes against the bed. One hand releases my throat and teeth clench around a nipple, hard.
I cry out, a gurgle around your cock and you withdraw completely. Cuffs are undone and you heave me off the bed to stand on shaking legs, spinning me around. I put my arms out and they land on cool glass.
I sag against it, hearing the sound of foil tearing. Seconds later and your body surrounds mine, kicking my legs apart and placing my arms higher.
“Keep them there.” I nod and lean forward, cold glass against my breasts. I realise that I have no clue what the window looks out over. You push one of my knees onto the low windowsill and slam in.
I grind my hips back against you, needing you as deep as possible. You thrust in again and force my hands back up the window.
“I said, keep them there.” Your arm goes around my throat, pinning me back against you as you withdraw again, sliding back in your full length as my legs turn to water.
A slow rhythm, you build up speed as I fight to keep my hands high enough on the window. The blindfold falls off and I can see out over the water, lights twinkling in the distance. I can just make out our reflection on the glass, almost see your features behind mine as you drive into me.
You bring your head to my shoulder and I twist, finding your lips, devouring you hungrily as my need starts to rise. The rhythm breaks down, staccato thrusts that leave us both crying out. Your teeth find my neck and bite down and I convulse around you, unable to hold back any longer, muscles spasming around your shaft, drenched with pleasure. With two more thrusts you join me, stiffening behind before collapsing your weight onto me, arm loosening around my neck.
There’s a soft kiss just over where you’d bitten down and I sink to the floor, feeling you move away. I put my back to the low sill and close my eyes, letting my breathing return to normal, listening to the sound of running water coming from behind the closed bathroom door.
The shower stops and there’s movement but I can’t bring myself to stand just yet. Muscles shaking, I lean my head back. The bathroom doors open and I try and peer through the gloom of the dimly-lit room.
“Thank you. Feel free to use the shower.”
I laugh shakily and raise a hand in acknowledgement. The room door creaks open and closes behind you.