Hotels, they all seem so similar. Hyatt, Sheraton, Holiday Inn, Hilton, all with the gentle piped music in the public areas and the lifts. The sterile reception areas sitting on glossy marble floors.
And there's the plush bar area. That inevitable place where people mingle in subdued lighting. The bored reps at just another hotel stop over, the conference attendees enjoying loud and inconsequential chatter, the occasional lady of the night looking for business. The couple so closely entwined their relationship must be illicit, but oh what joy they exude.
Slowly they thin out leaving just the hard core drinkers or the really lonely reluctant to face an empty bedroom before exhaustion drives them to sleep.
Aside from a few bland individuals there's two that seem to stand out.
She is really ****ed off tonight. He was supposed to be here with her for a very special night. "I will book the room" he had said and all she got was a text at 22:38, "Sorry I can't make it - wife came home. Make it up to you sometime".
She stares into the tropical fish tank that runs behind the whole length of the bar. Beautifully coloured fish glide amongst the gentle purple back-lighting. She feels like a fish tonight, beautifully adorned but confined at the same time. She ponders her life. Yes the fish tank is like her life. A busy place lots to do and see, frequent encounters with co-occupants but all apparently going about their individual business with no real interaction. She is sure there must be a fuller richer life waiting.
Her stare loses focus on the tank and she becomes aware of a distant reflection in the glass.
He's another sad rep, typing away at his laptop, oblivious to the world around him. He can even reach out and pick up his drink while still working at the keyboard and looking at the screen. Good sense of kinaesthetics then.
Her mind wanders aimlessly to wonder what he working on. A bid for business, working out his expenses, writing home, writing to the girlfriend, maybe emailing the USA as they wake up. Who cares anyway.
She needs to make a decision. Book a room for the night or face the long drive home to an empty house. Logic speaks from within to remind her she's has too many glasses of wine to drive.
Back to the fish tank awaiting inspiration. The reflection has gone and she's jolted to the present as the reflection is beside her ordering a drink, laptop in hand.
Logic does not prevail as she speaks without intending to, "Your work is finished for the night then?"
He looks puzzled for a moment but she casts her eye to the laptop and he replies, "Oh, yes. But that wasn't work it was my passion and hobby. I'm really not one of those sad individuals that believes work is the be all and end all in life".
"Dare I ask what your passion and hobby is then?" He fixes his stare into her soul for several seconds that feels much longer. A stare that seems to be testing if this is a conversation to pursue.
The stare is broken by the waiter returning with his drink. "On the tab please" he says. And then, "Oh where's my manners, can I offer you a drink?"
He turns to walk away, but stops to reply to her question. " I think my hobby is a little unusual and you might be surprised if I told you. But it isn't model railways".
"I love puzzles", she says. "So let me guess; championship chess played over the Internet maybe".
He fixes that piercing stare again and holds eye contact. "No". A monosyllabic answer that beckons her to guess again. Somehow breaking away from his hypnotic eye contact seems difficult as her brain searches for another clue.
His clothes reveal little. Expensive shirt and trousers but no suit jacket. Rolex watch. No clues there then. The silence becomes uneasy for her but he seems resolute in waiting for a reply, like a good interrogator using the silence to elicit information.
"Private investor playing the stock market", she offers.
"Not even close, but if you are prepared to be shocked I will show you as no-one else is around, if you want to know" he says. Intrigued and with a what-the-hell attitude she says "OK shock me!"
He flips open the laptop waits a few seconds and types away. "Sure you want to know my passion and hobby?" "Why not?" she says.
He turns the lap top around so she can see the screen and is confronted with the scene of a woman bound in ropes, blindfolded, suspended from above and being beaten with a riding crop. At the same instant he says, "I run bondage tutorials and workshops" and closes the laptop.
The exposure was as short as a subliminal screen shot but the impression on her was immediate. She looks up into his eyes again and feels she is being scanned for a reaction and feedback.
The interrogator's silence pervades again. She is drawn irresistibly into a response. Should she fake shock, horror, revulsion, or reveal the rush of excitement she felt.
Before she can answer he speaks. Slowly, deliberately, assertively. "Some people are totally turned off by the thought of bondage, but others crave the confinement and blissful release from reality that it can bring". "I have watched the body language of many people and you don't need words to express your reaction".
He continues, "Your pupils dilated, which could be shock or excitement, but the way you shifted your body position invited the same treatment".
How the hell can he say that, and be right too!
"So what brings you here tonight? He asks. Her short answer is simply, "Meeting a friend who hasn't shown up".
"Sorry to hear that", then he adds, "So are you setting off home soon or do you have a room here?"
Without thinking through the possible consequences she says, "Neither, too much to drink to risk driving and no room booked". Damn, she realises that makes me seem vulnerable, she could have been more evasive or lied.
He stares at her for a while before saying, "You're in something of a predicament then." Attempting to recover from her faux-pas, "My car is in the car park and has a good heater so I can bed down there".
He cautions her, "But if the police patrol the car park and find you with the engine running and you're over the limit you risk your licence even if you didn't plan to drive".
With a sigh, "Good point, I need a plan B then". His previously piercing look tuns to one of concern, followed by, "I have a double room but would not presume to offer you a bed there. Come to reception and I will book you a single room for the night".
Surprised and slightly offended that she seems incapable of looking after herself she asks, "Why would you do that? And anyway I could book a room for myself."
He says, "I'm sure you could book your own room but you haven't, and I can't leave a pretty lady exposed to the evils of the night. So regard it as my good deed for the day. Now don't argue, come with me and let's get you sorted."
The drink in her system has made the world too fuzzy to think straight. But within 15 minutes she is installed in a room of her own and he is bidding her goodnight. That's not the outcome she had expected. "Before you go, will you tell me your room number she asks?" Recognising that in her state of mind she may not remember much, he writes his room's phone number on the notepad at the bedside and hands it to her.
"Sleep well" he says as he leaves and closes the door.
Startled by the alarm clock at the side of the bed going off she is brought from sleep to a confused alertness. Where is she. How did she get her. The clock shows 03:30 am. Mental clarity brings it all clearly back. Some idiot of a previous occupant in the room must have needed an early flight to set an alarm for 03:30 or they had a cruel sense of humour.
A bathroom visit and a quick wash of her face and she is fully functioning. She doesn't even know this man's name, only a phone number for his room. Will he be checked out in the morning? What time will he have breakfast so she can thank him? Should she forget the incident, have a good sleep and just leave in the morning?
After pondering the options she picks up the phone and calls his room.
After a short delay he answers the phone, why she should be startled she's not sure. He is hardly likely to have checked out in the middle of the night. After several "hello's" on his part she gathers her thoughts and tells him she just wanted to say thank you. "You're welcome", he says in comforting but assured tones. "May I come and see you?" - the words leave her lips almost involuntarily and she feels an instant pang of regret at their utterance.
There's a pause as he considers her request, "Yes of course you may, but be prepared for some consequences if you do - I'm on the top floor penthouse suite". "What room number" she enquires. "My dear, it is just the top floor, all of it. If you decide to come press the "P" button in the lift above the 23rd floor and I will buzz you in when I see you on the camera". Now it's his turn to feel anticipation and a quickening pulse. He acquiesced to her request and added the threat of consequences, so perhaps she will have second thoughts about coming. Or maybe the unknown threat of consequences will be like a light to moth at night.
Minutes pass and the security camera's motion detector alarm sounds. So she came (perhaps that won't be the only time tonight he thinks). Outside the lift she is facing a single door, the buzz indicates the lock has opened and she pushes the door open.
The vista that greets her eyes is impressive. High above the city landscape it twinkles like stars. And the room is expansive. Several leather couches, two wide screen TVs, an extensive open bar, an aquarium and obviously side rooms too.
She catches a glimpse of his reflection in the panoramic windows of the apartment and turns. He looks as fresh as ever as though he has just had a good night's sleep. He must have slept otherwise why have a dressing gown on?
"May I take your dressing gown?" he asks her. Clutching it tighter she declines as it is all she put on to get to him. "Very well he replies, maybe it will come off later with or without your permission". She feels a blush of excitement and hopes he hasn't noticed.
She wonders what will unfold next - conversation, the offer of a drink, a rush to the bedroom, or ...." Her thoughts are interrupted when he says, "Come with me I have something to show you". As he leads the way across the lounge he takes off the cord of his dressing gown. Corny line of chat he 's using she thinks as a way of saying check out my body. He stops at a door and takes her wrist. Not for a caress, but to tie the dressing gown cord around it. Then her leads her through the door to the en-suite gym! Again this offers a windowed vista looking on the city below.
Without either of them speaking he leads her to a weight lifting exercise frame, pulls down one of the machines hand bars and ties her wrist to it. He reaches down to her dressing gown, removes its cord and repeats the process with her other wrist. Thankful that there's no weights on the machine and she tests she can at least move her arms a little. But the movement loosens the last tuck of her dressing gown and if flows open.
Finally he speaks. "So now I have you at my mercy, what shall I do with you? Or more to the point what would you wish me to do to you I wonder? Let's proceed and explore what you find exciting and what your limits are."
He caresses her legs tenderly, glides his hands upwards and towards the inside of her thighs. She closes her legs involuntarily. Unfazed he changes direction and slides his hands around and over her backside before moving over her waist and up to her breasts. Here he pauses. Just pauses, motionless with the slightest of pressure for what seems minutes. Eye to eye they look into each other and without any hint of what's to come he applies a gripping pressure to each tit that takes her breath away with its speed of application and intensity. Without releasing the pressure he pulls her breasts apart, then together, and twists as though removing stubborn tops from glass jars.
She reacts. She breathes deeper. She winces, but no sound passes her lips. "So you are no stranger to some physical pain", he observes. "But we can't have you closing your legs again. He leaves the gym only to return with two more dressing gown cords. The intention is obvious. Within a couple of minutes each of her ankles is secured to the machine's steel frame holding her legs and thighs wide apart. Deliciously exposed for his attention she thinks.
"Now to apply some tension to your body", he says. One by one he picks up the training weights and places them on the machine, 5Kg, 10Kg, 15Kg, 20Kg. With each increase she wriggles her body to accommodate the tension and sensation. Not painful but becoming uncomfortable. At 35Kg the edges between pain, pleasure and sensual arousal merge. He stops adding weights.
He brushes his fingers across her forehead, down her neck and tests the tension and "lifting" effect on her breasts. He declares, "It's time to get you dressing gown off". "That's impossible as my arms are through the sleeves unless you intend releasing me fist”, she points out.
"No need", as he approaches her with scissors and piece by piece cuts away the only protection she had from exposing her naked body to him and the thousands of potential onlookers from the city below and windows in the countless skyscrapers.
Shredded dressing gown lies at her feet and he stands back to admire and absorb the beauty of her stretched body. He paces slowly around her like an animal that is stalking its prey and she can watch him in the reflections from the windows.
“As I said in the bar your reaction to the screen shot showed your excitement but if we are both to derive pleasure this evening I need to ask you some questions” he says. “Will you answer truthfully?”
“Yes” she replies, her mouth and throat feeling dry from excitement.
“Have you been tied with ropes before?” “Yes”
“Have you ever had your breasts bound?” “Yes”
“Have you ever had clamps or suction cups applied to your tits?” “No”
“Have you been caned or hit with a riding crop?” “Yes”
“Have you been whipped?” “No”
“Do you enjoy being teased or edged?” “Yes”
“OK”, he replies, “So now I know the new experiences you will be enduring tonight”.
Again he leaves the gym and during his absence she struggles to try and pull the weights down or free her ankles but to no avail. The effects of the wine earlier in the night have been eradicated by the adrenalin rush she now feels. A heady cocktail of fear and anticipation at what is follow.
He returns bringing lengths of rope, a riding crop, a whip, suction cups, vicious looking screw clamps and a bag of clothes pegs.
“As you have some experience of breast bondage I will start with that” he says.
As he winds rope around the base of her breast she thinks this is typical of the photos she has seen on the Internet. Her other breast is similarly made to swell and stand proud from her chest. But then something different. He takes a very long length of rope, makes a loop half way along, and passes it around her upper torso. He positions the two strands carefully one each side of her nipples and starts to pull the rope tighter and tighter. He then continues to work the separate strands above and below her nipples pulling each tighter as it passes around her back.
The effect is to squash her breast tissue flatter and flatter against her chest and to cover the ropes already wrapped around the base of each tit. But her nipples are forced out between the ropes to become engorged and sensitive.
He twists each of her nipples painfully, then produces the clamps. They are indeed vicious looking things unlike anything she has seen before. They have slightly rounded teeth on each end to ensure that once they are applied they will not slip or move. And unlike other clamps, where the screws serve to limit the pressure applied by the springs inside the clamps, these screws work the opposite way to increase the pressure applied without any limit.
He carefully manipulates each nipple and aureola into the jaws of the clamps and begins turning the screws. He judges the pressure to apply by the reactions she exhibits. At first her face shows defiance. The screws are turned a few more times and the hint of a smile on her face signals blissful acceptance bordering on pleasure. He flicks the clamps and her smile widens. A few more turns of the screws and the onset of discomfort is displayed. He asks, “Are you OK there? If at any time you want me to stop just say “Banana” as a safe word and I will release you instantly”. “I'm fine” she replies.
“In that case we need to increase the intensity”, he warns. Turn by turn the screws are tightened and the teeth of the clamps relentlessly continue to bite into her nipples. Her face contorts into a grimace. He flicks the clamps again. Still more pressure is applied and her whole body begins to twitch to distract from the pain. Three more turns and a scream is finally brought from her. Accepting this is enough pressure for now he stops and stands back to watch.
“I will let you become accustomed to the pain for a moment before I continue. But you can choose between the riding crop or the whip next. So what's your preference?” “The riding crop please sir”, she whispers.
It's black with a short leather thong at the end. He bends it to test its suppleness and strikes it through the air producing a fearsome whistle. He strokes it across her buttocks. They clench in anticipation. He moves to her front and stokes the end from her ankle past her knee, over her thigh and into the moistening cleft of her womanhood. He plays it back and forth like playing the strings of a violin, then continues down her other thigh and on to her ankle. Moving to her side he places the crop against her stomach taking aim. She closes her eyes and hears the whistle as the crop flies through the air. But he's teasing, it was nowhere near her. By now she begins to wonder if he will ever use it in earnest.
He moves behind her and to the side and pretends to take aim on her backside as she watches every move in the reflections from the windows. Without warning one sweeping cutting stoke lands from nowhere with such severity she bucks from the pain and can't find the breath to scream. Immediately a pink welt appears. Yes she's been cropped before but never so hard at the first stroke. If this is a taste of what's come come she might be screaming bananas soon. “Close your eyes and keep them closed or else you will receive another that hard” he demands.
Obediently she complies and hears his movement. The crop touches her stomach and she flinches. Another whistle and no pain. Another whistle and the inside of her right thigh has been struck.
Another whistle and she attempts to close her legs but there's no contact. Then the inside of her other thigh receives a strike. “Are you ready to receive five more gentler strokes on your backside” he asks. She hesitates then nods.
Six distinct welts adorn her bottom and he tenderly caresses her saying how well she's taken the punishment. “As a reward you can open your eyes and I will release some of the pressure on you breasts”, he says.
The ropes squashing her tits are removed but not the bindings around each base nor are the clamps removed. He applies a few more turns to the clamp screws on her nipples until her shaking body signals that's enough. Next the clothes pegs are used to create what he calls “halos” on each breast. He pulls on the nipple clamp to extend her breast and begins applying the pegs around her flesh. In all about 20 pegs have been applied to her left breast. About 17 pegs are all he can fit to her smaller left tit.
Her arousal level is increasing and the moistness between her legs is very apparent. His fingers begin to test her and explore deeper into her. She manoeuvres to heighten her pleasure but he removes his fingers. “Not yet”, he says.
Then his fingers return to manipulate and to tease until her own restricted movements on his hand seem enough to complete her orgasm but he abruptly moves away again.
He announces, “It's time for the next stage to commence”. All the clothes pegs are removed leaving dents and impressions where they have bitten into her flesh. If only she could reach her breasts to massage them and ease the tingling pain. But he obliges and performs that task for her. His action also shows its effect on him as for the first time the dressing gown he has been wearing and has tantalisingly refused to expose him now reveals a bulge appearing about his hips.
As he massages her, his erection pushes the dressing gown open to reveal he is a muscular well-endowed individual.
“You need to be more tightly secured for this next stage”, he advises. The ropes encircling each breast have several feet of loose rope and the intended reason becomes apparent as he pulls her right breast towards the support frame of the gym apparatus. She moves her body to that side to relieve some of the tension as he ties the rope to the frame. Next her left breast is pulled to the other side of the frame with such effort that her body is brought back to the centre of the apparatus. Now she is very securely fastened, breasts stretched outwards and no ability to move her body.
He slips out of his dressing gown and approaches her. Fingers test and open her ready to accept him. He enters her, deeply. And stretches her. She awaits his thrusting and tries to move to encourage that, feeling her climax could be near. But instead he withdraws. Damn, yes she had said earlier in his questioning that she enjoyed being teased and edged and now regrets that answer.
The pain in her nipples is excruciating as he removes the toothed clamps from them. He kisses and sucks each in turn. Is this an act of kindness or for his gratification? It's not an act of kindness. After moistening each nipple, areola and tit with his tongue he proceeds to apply the vacuum suction cups to each nipple. What was a crushing effect from the clamps now turns into a stretching and pulling sensation as her tit ends are pulled into and confined by the cups. Satisfied that they are fully deployed he picks up the whip.
“I know you have never experienced a whipping”, he recalls, “so I will go gently at first until I judge you are ready for the final stage”.
Standing behind the frame she sees the reflection of him adjusting his position and measuring the distance to her body to ensure the whip will land where he plans. The first strokes, more gentle flicks than whipping, land on her back and he works them up and down, reminding her of a gentle beating with the twigs found in Swedish saunas. Then he lands some more aggressive stokes that do sting and will leave marks for some time.
He adjusts his position to stand much closer to the frame, far too close to wield the whip in her opinion. But his experience shows again as he wields the whip with some force. It curls around the gym apparatus's frame, barely licks her stomach, then curls around the other side of the frame to finally land on her back again with a stinging crack that forces her to involuntarily jump only to find her restraints prevent any movement, but do cause further tension in her tits.
“I can land my shots with great precision, that's why you need to be held securely” he explains. After several more precise back stokes using the same technique he moves further back from the frame. This time as the whip's tail curls around the frame he has judged the length to deliver blows to her stomach, first from the left then from the right. “Remember your safe word, “bananas” you may need it for the next part”, he warns.
Steeling herself for the unexpected as he moves further back the whip's tail is aimed higher and finds it's target on the inside of her right breast. A shriek from her lips confirms the impact was as planned. A similar stroke from the left curls around to deliver it's sting to the inside of her left breast. Alternate stokes find their mark each time and leave the welts of their contacts. The pain from the vacuum nipple cups is nothing compared to the sting from the whip and she is grateful for their presence in protecting her nipples from the whip.
“Now close your eyes for what's to follow”, he advises.
After what seems like an eternity he tells her she can open her eyes and is confronted by the same eye to eye contact they had in the bar hours ago. “I am very impressed by what you have endured”. “And enjoyed” she interrupts, “but what's the final stage please?”
“Why it's your orgasm of course, that you have been so close to over the last couple of hours” he says. “But you have a choice again, the dildo or me.” With a lustful look in her eye she chooses him. He enters her for the second time, but as before remains motionless, large and filling but motionless. “Now you have to work for your gratification”, he tells her. And she does, despite the ropes restraining her she manages enough movement in her hips to come.... and come again.
When she recovers the lights in the penthouse gym dim automatically, the dawn is rising and sunlight begins to fill the room. As office lights in the adjoining skyscrapers go out she can see people starting to occupy the offices for their days work.
He whispers, “It's time to release you” and does, then follows up with, “I have breakfast for two ordered and it will be here soon. I have to get ready for the workshop I'm running today at the conference centre downstairs. You are welcome to attend if you wish, free of charge. And if you enjoy it then maybe you would like to accompany me as my assistant on the next workshop in three days’ time. It's in the Bahamas and of course all expenses paid. By the way I should ask you your name”.
After breakfast the next chapter of her life begins.
© 2016 Rope Lover
You can also leave feedback & comments for this story on the Plaza Forum