Welcome Home

After the fine meal of scallops I had placed in front of her had been consumed I could see the strength in her slender form, and color in her face return and I knew that the remainder of the evening, and the tribulations I had planned for her would be no problem. We had long since slipped back into our normal roles of conversation, after the moments of bliss at our meeting. Learning the touch of her naked thigh, and the slippery fullness of her hungry curtain-like vulva on the way there further bonded the intimacy we already shared.

My own anticipation was less than hidden during the drive to the room as I released the impatience in my pants with one hand while I drove. I had placed her hand there earlier and as she stroked,  she talked about her trip, friends, and life. Her focus on her own discussion was so intense that she made more than a gasp when I gabbed the back of her head and pushed her face down on my cock, without looking from the road. “Suck it whore,” was the only command I gave her, and the gasp was quickly replaced by hungry hurried “aahhhs” as she frantically took my length into her face.

I guided her head to a stead rhythm. I pushed her down a little farther, not just to get the depth I desired but also to force her to reach her slender body further over the center console causing her ass to lift and become more accessible. The rise of her right hip was matched with the reach of my right hand and I quickly negotiated my way under her skirt and into her long since drenched panties from the backside.

Brit’s extreme excitement was obvious and only helped my fingers find purchase. The muffled moaning by the steering wheel began to crescendo and match the stabbing of my finger. I reached to the spot I knew was her trigger. Yes, we had discussed it and I knew her body already surprisingly well. Less than ten strokes inside my little slut and I felt the steaming hot streams of gushing fluid stinging my hand.

As we got out of the car to continue to the room I did my best to wipe the pool of fluid from the rental car seat. She did take her subservient place a few steps behind me on the way into the hotel, but once in the lobby I insisted she lead me to the elevator in case a passer-by would notice the large wet stain on the back of her dress.

I did not have an orchestrated scene planned out; I rarely do. I usually imagine one or two positions and implements, and the rest tends to come if the passion is truly there. So far I had not been disappointed.

I had left the room dark, with what I planned to use in the drawer of the entertainment center by the door. I led her into the room and placed her bags on the floor. Grabbing the blindfold from the drawer and placing it across her eyes, I kissed her gently and told her “You are mine, don’t you dare fucking come.” I had been careful to maintain a touch on her body for orientation but now I drifted away, for what I am sure felt like an eternity as I located the next item. I am sure this is the point where realization and rationality set into the situation. Alone with a new man, in a strange room, blindfolded. This was a leap of faith. We were creating trust. 

I reached for the leather collar and connected cuffs and placed the collar on her neck. The cuffs are attached by a D-ring with another leather strap about 18 inches long that ran down her back. Securing her hands, I guided my blind slut to our fuck room. The day had been hectic and despite my best intentions to make this a “drama free” trip my slut had disappointed me and as a result delayed our meeting several hours. I could not let this go unanswered.

A hand would have been plenty, but that is not what happened. I faced her against the edge of the wall divider between the armoire and bedroom desk area. Naked breasts against cold sheet rock and her hands tied up high on her back. As I took off my pants the realization I had a belt in my hand dawned and the punishment was clear. “You kept me waiting whore,” spewed calmly, sternly, and almost robotically from my lips as I yanked the belt from my pants with one unmistakable sound. It was a newer belt with stiffer leather so I grasped it in the dark about a foot or so from the end and gave her what she expected. Most were respectable strokes, enough to make a sound, but the lack of audible response brought two with a measured, considerable strength and I received the report I desired.

“Not again whore. This is done, we shall not talk of it again.” If you follow our Twitter, you might have noted that our last meeting was completely drama free, so I feel reassured the lesson took. I turned her and held her and kissed her gently before pushing her forward onto the bed. She resisted, stiff legged a moment until she felt the mass of my chest against her back and folded accordingly. 

I meant the teasing that followed to be torturous, and it was. She was vulnerable, blind, exposed, and I took complete ungentlemanly advantage of it. My mouth hands, fingers and cock head all teased her repeatedly until the begging for sexual release was continuous. “What do you want whore?” I asked. “Your cock, Sir,” was her repeated reply. “Please give me your cock, Sir.” I made the issue clearer; no sense beating around the bush, as it were, “You want to come don’t you my miserable little whore?” She moaned, almost crying under her panting breath, “Yes Sir, please, Sir!” I was at the ready poised for the final union behind her.