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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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WARNING!
This text file contains sexually explicit
material. If you do not wish to read this
type of literature, or you are under age,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!!
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This work is copyrighted to the author © 2014. Please
do not remove the author information nor make any
changes to this story. All rights reserved. Thank you
for your consideration.
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For Oona
by jeddack1982 (jeddack1982@gmail.com)
***
A curious woman meets her online Dom for the first time
and gets exactly what she wants. (MF, reluc, d/s, bd)
***
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," - 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 car
park. 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 eye-line 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
favor 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 moisturizer 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...
Another rustling of the bag; you can smell your damp
crotch now, spilling the smell of sex into thr room.
"Tell me what this is."
A swoosh followed by a painful hard crack against your
ass makes you let out a short scream.
"Quiet! You will be punished in silence."
Swoosh, crack! You scream again.
"Tell me, quietly, what it was?"
Sobbing, tears forming in your eyes, you burble "The
crop."
"The crop what?"
Swoosh! Crack!
"The crop sir!" you scream.
"I warned you to be quiet," he says, stroking your
swollen arse. "If you cannot be silent I shall make
you."
In one swift movement he pulls your panties down, makes
them into a ball and shoves it in your mouth, the tang
of your cunt washing across your tongue. With equal
speed, he undoes one suspender and draws a stocking down
your leg, bringing it up to your head and tying the
makeshift gag in place.
Taking the other stocking off, he ties one end to your
ponytail and the other to the cuffs; your head is tied
back and you can feel a small draught on your exposed
pussy and asshole.
Swoosh...
Ten times the crop fell on your arse; ten times the
swoosh and the crack. Ten times a muffled scream into
your panties, your juices mixing in your mouth, filling
your nose. As you stare at the headboard of the bed,
your head tugged back by your ponytail, you realise
you're helpless - you've given yourself to this man. You
are his. His to do with as he pleases.
Lost in your thoughts, you fail to realise the crop has
stopped, the room turning back to silence. You've been
crying with the pain, your tears soaking into your gag.
Blinking, you feel fingers on your pussy lips; a light
stroke of your clit; two fingers inside you. You moan at
the invasion, the long fingers going knuckle deep. They
pull out and you push yourself backwards, trying to keep
them inside you; a hand spanks you to stop you. The
fingers grasp one of your lips and suddenly there's a
pinch - you can feel it stretching. You feel his fingers
manipulate something and then they go - but the pinch
and the stretch remain. You can feel a small tug on your
suspender belt - he's clamped your lip and tied it up!
Another caress of the other lip; two fingers deep inside
you; another pinch and a stretch - and suddenly your
wider open than you've ever been.
"You will get three more strokes of the crop. No more."
Relief; it's been the most pain you've felt in a long
time. You feel the leather tip of the crop slide up your
left leg and down your right leg, teasing you. Suddenly
it comes down - right on your thigh.
You scream; you see stars - but you feel something pop
down there, like a switch being thrown. You feel a heat
rising in your belly.
You feel the crop on your feet, tickling them; suddenly
it bears down on you once more, catching your asshole
full. Yet the heat inside you rises, feeding off the
scream being blocked by your panties.
"Last one my pet," sir says.
You tense as you feel the crop yet again - but it's a
little different this time. It traces the contours of
your arse until it finds your pussy and pushes in, its
rough texture and hardness telling you it's the handle.
He strokes it in and out of you, your wetness spreading
along its length, sluicing out onto the bed. He pulls it
round and places it under your nose, pushing it into
your face, pussy juice dripping from your nose.
He takes it in hand and with one last swoosh brings it
down on your clit - and your world explodes...
END
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This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life in
any way, shape or form. Anyone tempted to act out any
of the scenarios in this story should seriously consider
seeking professional help.
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Kristen's collection - Directory 81