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Part 1
Michelle walked into the bar. As Master Steve had instructed, she was wearing normal clothes, but no underwear or bra. She was also wearing 4” heels, a garter belt and stockings. She was a little bit nervous. She had liked their interaction, this week, but she was afraid that she was getting her hopes up (again.) So often she would converse, electronically, with someone, only to find out that there was nary a spark in person. Although this was predominantly about ceding control, for her, she still needed that sexual spark in order to really relish kneeling naked for someone, and servicing him.
Sigh.
She resolved herself not to get too excited about this. It would likely be a dud. She took a seat at the bar, and looked idly around the bar. As this was a mid-level big-city hotel bar, there was an odd collection of, mostly, bored-looking businessmen (and a few women.) They were in groups of 2 or 3, and did not look at her. Her glance took in her surroundings, and she saw no one.
What she did not notice was the action of the bartender. After serving her an iced tea, he walked around the bar and down the side of the room. He inspected her in detail; had Michelle noticed, she would have been embarrassed. Then, he moved back to the end of the bar, and picked up the phone.
The bartender had never given the thumbs-up before, to the gentleman with no name but a room number. The bartender had never seen a nice-looking woman appear, for the mystery man, before.
A few minutes passed, and Michelle grew restless. And then, he was there. He strode over to her purposefully, took her hand, and kissed her on the cheek, without words. She was a little taken aback that he was so forthright and possessive, but then again, that was to be his role, right?
The bartender was right, he thought. She is perfectly proportioned, and the shoes looked quite sexy on her feet. She sat, cross-legged, in a rather seductive way. He could imagine her body naked, for his use. And abuse. He grew hard just thinking about it. And, she had been perfectly honest. The photo that she had forwarded to him, this morning, really was her. It actually did not do her justice. Honesty was hard to find in this genre, and he already felt that he had a gem on his hands. Little did he know how perfect she would be for him …
After a few seconds of looking at him, she smiled broadly. Finally, she thought, a dom that adequately and accurately described himself. He was 6'2”, muscular, sandy-blond hair and bright eyes. His hands were large and calloused; though she knew that he had some sort of office career, she also knew that he enjoyed woodworking, and it showed.
There was a sexual spark, for both of them, which they both appreciated. Having said nothing yet, they looked into each other's eyes for a few seconds. Then, he took her hand and led her to a corner table.
They talked for a few minutes; pleasantries, nothings. Then, he stopped. He told her that he was interested in proceeding with her, but that he needed to know a few more things, first. He needed to see her body, naked, in detail. He needed to see that she had followed his instructions regarding what to wear (and not to wear). He needed to see that she would submit to him in person, that she was serious. And, perhaps, he needed to whet his appetite with a little hint of what was to come (and cum.) He told her that he had a hotel room, and that he would like to take her there. He said that he would keep for 1.5 hours at most, and that she could, and should, arrange her safe-call around that timing. He gave her the room key, and, for the only time in their relationship, asked her if that was ok with her. He was cognizant that this was all new for both of them, and that there existed only the most basic level of trust.
Michelle was wet just thinking about the turn of events. Here was a very nice looking, honest dom. There was sexual chemistry between them. He was not wimpy, did not want to be romantic or smushy. He had control, but did not flaunt it in public. What he suggested was safe, in that this was a hotel and she had her safe call. She desperately wanted to proceed … and so she said, “Yes.”
He told her to make her safe call, and to meet him at the room in 5 minutes. And not to be late.
Precisely 5 minutes later she knocked on his door. The door opened, but she could not see him; he was behind the door. He told her to walk into the room.
He closed and latched the door behind her. Take off your clothes, he said.
Michelle stood in the middle of the room, crossed her arms, and pulled her shirt up over her head. She folded it and put it on the desk. She unbuttoned her trousers, and let them slide down to her ankles. Then, without bending her legs, she bent down and unfastened each shoe, took it off, removed her pant leg and refastened the shoe. When she was done, she stood back up, folded her pants, and placed them on the desk.
He watched her performance, from behind her, in silence. Her body was muscular and toned, in an attractive way. She carried a slight bit of fat around her ass and thighs; he knew that this would hold the marks of his whipping quite well. When she bent over, he saw that she was wet enough to have creamed her upper thighs; quite enticing.
He stood looking at her, from behind, for a few minutes; that's when he noticed that she was shaking. Good, he thought, a little bit scared about what she was getting herself into. That's a good sign; she understands and knows where this is going.
He told her to spread her legs, and to bend over once again. He said that he wanted her palms flat on the floor and her legs straight. Michelle complied. He ran his rough palms over her ass, silently, and then pulled her ass cheeks roughly apart. He told her that he was looking forward to splitting her wide open with his toys and his cock.
“Yes, Sir,” she replied.
What a natural submissive she was; she did not even need to be told, to do this.
He told her to stand up, and to put her hands behind her head, fingers interlaced and elbows out. Stand up straight, he said.
He walked around to the front of her. Her breasts were perky, and appeared even more so from the position of her body.
“You told me that you crave nipple torture, Michelle; is this correct?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I would like to see how much pain they can take,” he said, “with you standing silently. You may not move, you may not scream, you may not flinch; understood?”
“Yes, sir,” she said.
She thought that he would just grasp her nipples with his fingers, but he was more prepared than that. From a satchel on the desk he procured two harsh-looking clamps – like something that he would use in his wood shop, to hold two small pieces of wood together to allow wood to set. They were spring-loaded, and had set screws. He pulled her right nipple well away from her body, twisting and tugging it. He not-too-gently popped the clamp onto her nipple, allowing the spring to quickly force the clamp closed. The pain was almost electric, shooting through her. She did not move, did not even squeak. Though the pain was coursing through her, she was also getting wetter by the second.
He did the same with her left nipple. The clamps were heavy, and pulled her nipples down at an angle.
“Good,” he said, “you did not lie to me about nipple torture.”
She smiled slightly.
He instructed her to stand beside the desk, bend her leg and put her foot flat on the desk surface. This opened her widely to him. He ran his rough fingers over her wet mound, finding her clit hard and at attention. “You have not masturbated this week, correct?”
“Not since before Tuesday, Sir.”
“Very good.”
“You will not orgasm today, Michelle. You will wait, and long for me to pound you with my cock.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You will beg me for it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
“You will fantasize about it.”
“Yes, Sir.”
He roughly forced three fingers deeply inside her, and then withdrew them just as quickly. He began quickly finger-fucking her; she started to pant. He stopped after a moment; it took a few moments for her breathing to slow down.
He went over and sat on the edge of the bed. He watched her for almost 10 minutes. She held her position well; she was strong; she did not lie about that, either. Her strength would bring him endless hours of pleasure in the future, he correctly surmised.
After some time he told her to lie down on the bed, on her back. To keep her hands behind her head. He wanted to test her flexibility (and, frankly, he wanted to touch her body, and torment her some more.) He thrust her straight legs over her head, so that her ass and cunt were exposed to him. Now there's a fun position, he thought. He was aching to whip her, to fuck her ass hard, to make her scream, but he knew that he could not. Not only was he in a respectable hotel, but he didn't want to jump the gun the first day. Plenty of time to torture her endlessly, he knew.
Enough already, he thought. He sat on the edge of the bed, once again, and told her to kneel before him, between his legs. He told her to give him the best blow job of her life.
And she did. When he was close to cumming, he grabbed her hair and pounded her head against him, fucking her mouth harshly. He came forcefully and for a long time.
When he was done, and when she had licked every drop off of him, he told her to dress.
He told her that he expected to see her at his home the next night, at 6pm. She would be staying until 6am the next morning, Sunday morning. He told her that she was to give herself an enema before presenting herself at his home, and to shave all of her body hair. He gave her a bag of “implements” that she would often be instructed to use at home. She need not bring the bag with her. Only bring the shoes, hose and garter belt.
When he was done with his instructions, he said, “You have pleased me, Michelle. From this point forward it will become much harder to please me; I expect that you will work as hard to please me, in the future, as you did tonight.”
“Yes, Sir.”
Michelle left his hotel room, 88 minutes after entering it, wet, sexually frustrated, and smiling.
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