The first time

I hand you the hotel room key.

“It’s room 909,” I say. “When you get there, take your clothes off, and lie, spread-eagled, on the bed. Close your eyes, and wait.”

You do as I ask.

You lie, waiting. Your pussy is throbbing. You can feel your heart beating.

I want to make you wait – how long? Five minutes? Ten? Fifteen?

The truth is, I can’t wait. Less than five minutes after you’ve situated yourself on the bed, you hear me at the door. I walk in, and see you there. “Beautiful,” I say, appraising your nude body. For the first time. You open your eyes.

“Keep them closed,” I say. “Touch yourself for me.”

You do.

Your pussy was wet before you were nude. Now, it’s drenched. You tickle your clit for a moment, you probe inside you for a moment.

“Stop,” I say.

“What?” You sound puzzled.

“Stop,” I say. “I want to look at you. Lift your arms over your head for me,” I say it gently, politely. But it’s a command. There’s no mistaking it.

You lift your arms over your head. Your breasts flatten just a bit as your arms extend.

I grab you by your ankles – you feel my wrists close around them, tightly. I hold them there, squeezing, testing as I pull you gently toward me. How compliant is your body?

I give a forceful yank, pulling you down toward the foot of the bed, toward me. You let out a yelp as your body slides on the sheets toward me.

I turn you over onto your front, roughly. My open palm lands on your ass even before you’ve settled into your new position. Once. Twice. Three times.

The force of the spanks stuns you. “Those are going to leave marks,” you think. And they will. They do.

Three more times, on the other cheek, and then silence.

You hear me take my belt off. You hear my jeans drop to the floor. You hear the condom wrapper open, and there’s a pause as (you imagine) I put the condom on my cock.

And then, without warning, you feel me pound into you.


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