I travel all over the world for a living. It’s a good living. The work is interesting, and the travel perks are good and getting better the more miles I log. I adjust well to the cultures and the social protocols that, sometimes, are very important and very tricky. One slip up, you break a rule or forget a courtesy, and you could ruin a trip, or wreck a deal, or even kill a relationship. I’m a seasoned veteran, so I get through most situations okay, but I still get surprised. Sometimes, I get my mind blown.
The region about which I am writing this story shall remain unknown. The culture there is rich, traditional, and extremely old. Things have gone pretty much the same way there for the last 100 or more years. This was not a garden spot of the world, but the thick population, large diversity, and thriving economies, both the daytime market and black market, make it a place you need to be, occasionally, in my line of work. I needed to be there. I didn’t want to be there.
The only way to ensure one’s safety and security there was to make sure you followed the written and unwritten rules, dictated and enforced, by the local, authoritarian, elite, familial ruling class. In other words, gangsters. Gangsters ruled there. Gangsters have a lot of rules, and you follow them.
I had never worked with this particular “family” before. I was here to close a deal that would greatly benefit, financially, the mother of one of the highest-ranking boss-of-bosses in the family. Not only that, but this same mother would get a sweet bit of revenge on the unfortunate group on the other end of the deal. I worked hard, got a little lucky, avoided the crooked cops, and the deal went through. I found myself in a very good situation, being owed a bunch of gratitude by an important person, after giving the beloved mom a ton of money and some delicious revenge.
I got back to my hotel on the night of the big closing day. I was elated, and I wanted to just relax and de-stress. No luck. When I opened the door to my hotel suite, I smelled a woman’s expensive perfume, and the temperature was set a bit warm for my taste. Strange. I stepped lightly into the main suite, looked to my left, and noticed the doors to my bedroom were partly open, and a light was on. I remembered closing those doors and turning off all the lights. This was bad. I had no weapon. Then I heard her.
Movement on the bed. Struggling and whimpering. I dropped my stuff, moved to the room and peered inside. The king bed was centered at the far end of the room. In the middle of the bed was a beautiful woman, a local, naked, except for a pair of dark red, high-heeled pumps, buckled at the ankles. She was tightly bound with rope, lots of thick, red, rope. She was also gagged with something in her mouth, held there with a wide leather piece, and securely strapped around her head and under her chin. She was alone. She stared at me with a worried look and kept struggling against some masterful bondage. She was here on purpose – she was a “gift”. My gift, or one of them at least.
My heart was skipping as I entered the room. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, but I had to understand this situation. On the dresser were some items that, I guess, could be called “toys”. There were several types of vibrators, butt plugs, a crop and a leather cat-o-nine-tails whip, nipple clamps, feathers and a few more unidentified things. There was also an elegant envelope with my name on it. Yep, this whole scene was a gesture of gratitude for all of my hard work. I had to think, and I had to act carefully. This bound woman made this difficult; she was one of the most exquisite things I had ever seen.
I went to the envelope first. While I worked it open, I glanced at the woman several times and learned a lot. She squirmed and mewed sexily in her bondage without looking at me. If she was kidnapped off the street and placed here, she would be eyeballing me and struggling hard as soon as I walked in. Was I ugly and dirty, did I smell bad, did I look mean and scary? She didn’t seem to care, really. She knew me, or she knew a lot about me.
Okay, I can deal with this. I read the short note from the envelope:
“Enjoy your gift. You’ve earned it. I am of the understanding that she would be to your liking, so let her satisfy your appetites. If you notice the rope with the white tassel, you can eliminate that one in order for her to be more “presentable”. Have a wonderful evening.”
The handwriting was perfect cursive, and there was a very faint odor of scented hand lotion and what, fingernail polish? Maybe, but it was clear that this note was written by a woman.
I tossed the note aside and focused my attention on my gift. Yes, it was true that, in my travels, I did enjoy a variety of light BDSM scenes and games with those ladies that met me in various ports of call. Some ladies were dear friends; others were expensive treats for whom I would spend large amounts of money. Never, not ever, did I receive one as a gift.
Her body was near perfect, toned and tanned. Large, expensively-fake breasts entwined with red rope, rose colored areolas with large nipples that were not hard. This was another sign that she was planted instead of forced here. I imagined her legs were slim and long, but they were harshly bent with more rope. Shapely ankles with more rope, and excellent feet strapped into fabulous shoes. Her thick, shiny black hair was pulled back into a high ponytail; it would flow but stay well out of the way. She had big, dark eyes with heavy eyelids and long lashes. Her makeup was slutty and perfect. Her red fingernails were sharp and flawlessly manicured. She was a professional, tightly bound and gagged by another professional. Like I said, exquisite.
As I walked around the bed inspecting my gift, she rolled and writhed in her ropes to make sure I had the best view. Her arms were bent behind her back and tied neatly at the wrists. They were pinned into the small of her back, and ropes were wound around her elbows to prevent movement. Rope went around her shoulders, behind her neck and crisscrossed over and under her tits. This was done so she could move from her back to her stomach with relative ease and comfort. Her legs were bent and tied such that, oh, there was the rope with the white tassel. I understood. She was frogtied. Each leg independently bent and tied, ankle to thigh. The master rope kept her legs fastened together. Once I untied this rope, I could spread her tied legs, and she would be open to me. Wide open.
Looking at her made me hard. I wanted her immediately, but I had to think. Was this a trap? I had no doubt that whoever placed her here and “prepared” her, had also wired the room. I was being watched. Why? For amusement, not entrapment. There were too many escape-options for all of this trouble, plus I had the handwritten note. I decided it was safer to play than to reject this outrageous gift. Of course, at that moment, all my wisdom was in my pants, not my head.
I got my phone and brought up a very expensive (and illegal) app. A scan told me there was something transmitting a wi-fi signal from the bedroom wall. My phone jammed the signal just long enough for me to grab a hand towel, scoot a chair over, and drape it over the smoke detector installed there. Then, I made it as dark as possible in the bedroom. I waited a little while and listened for either a knock on the door, or a bullet through the window. I got neither.
My clothes came off as my eyes adjusted to the dark. My companion struggled and mumbled in her bondage, knowing now that the only one who could see her was me. I was seeing, all right, as I got on the bed to inspect the lovely prize.
I hate to brag, and I rarely discussed details of my exploits, both professional and sexual, but I was exceptionally enthusiastic about this scenario. The first thing I did was to get rid of that pesky red rope with the white tassel. She moaned and fought as I unwrapped it. I rolled her onto her back. Reaching for the insides of her thighs and slowly but firmly spreading her bound legs made her spit a couple obscenities my way. Probably because it was so easy to expose her.
I feasted on her wonderful, firm tits, while my hands roamed over the rest of her body. This got her nipples hard and puckered, finally. At first, she was tense and frustrated, taking short breaths while her heart raced. After she decided that I was not going to hurt her and that inflicting pain was not on my agenda, her breathing leveled off. Her struggling continued, however, and that was what I craved.
I risked a little light in the room by turning on a small bed lamp. That allowed me to peruse the fine assortment of toys and gadgets provided by my benefactors. I chose an oddly-shaped silicone vibrator, a small bottle of lube, and a supple leather blindfold. She squealed and squirmed when she saw what I was bringing to the party.
I strapped the blindfold a bit tight as I didn’t want her to shake it or scrape it off. She objected to it and told me so as she begged and whimpered while shaking her head and testing her bondage. Professional or not, this woman realized her freedom, and now her senses were being taken from her, and that made everything more sensually intense. She writhed in her bondage and I loved it. Without sight, she couldn’t easily predict what I was going to do, where my eyes or my hands went. Being the asshole that I am, I told her to calm down, and that brought on a larger wave of struggle and obscenities out of her gag. I loved this even more.
The lube, as I guessed, was a rare mixture of coconut and other exotic plant oils which made it edible and very effective. Only the best for me and my guest. I used it sparingly over her most sensitive areas, so as not to chafe or irritate. I certainly did not want to damage the goods.
So, I enjoyed my guest to the fullest. I teased and squeezed and kissed and tasted and sucked and tongued and massaged every square inch of that glorious gift. She responded better than I had expected. She would squirm in her bondage and groan and resist me at every turn, pretending to be outraged by this relentless ravaging. She would try to grab or scratch me if I got anywhere near her bound hands or jab me with a stiletto heel when I worked myself between her bound legs. This behavior earned her a couple sharp spanks on her incredible ass or a twist of a nipple. In the soft light I could see her blush with humiliation.
Then, when she did give in to her helplessness, she would slowly acquiesce and allow the stimulation to overtake her, whining and convulsing with orgasmic pleasure. As her trust in me increased, she eventually opened herself up to me. I wrapped up and entered her tenderly, and soon we were both in sync and I climaxed with gusto. It was one of the most satisfying nights of my life, a perfect end to a hard day, an extraordinary and amazing gift.
I relaxed in post-orgasm serenity for only a short while. I had work to do. I pulled the towel off the hidden camera and brought up the lights. I pulled my pocket knife from my briefcase and got to work releasing my playmate. She laid on the bed for a minute, rubbing her wrists and her eyes and working her legs. I finally got her to stand up and helped her into the bathroom. I heard the shower go on and I found some clothes for myself. I had just gotten dressed when the phone rang in the main suite. My heart stopped. This was a call I really, really should take.
“How has your evening been so far?” said a woman. She sounded strong, powerful, and beautiful.
“I suppose you should know that already, but it has been truly magical,” I said.
“Did my ‘hospitality’ meet your expectations?” she asked.
“Exceeded them, actually. I have no words for my gratitude besides thank you,” I said.
“You’re most welcome. For what you did for my dear mother, you deserve much more than I have provided so far, and that will come in due time,” she said. This sparked my interest in her and what she had in store for me.
“You are most generous, but I was only doing my job,” I said.
“You’re modest, both professionally and physically. I’m quite disappointed by this,” she purred. This could be bad, I thought.
“You are? My apologies if I’ve offended you,” I said, as sincerely as I could.
“I was hoping to view a bit of your festivities tonight, but something went wrong. Alas, maybe another time,” she said. Her voice was intoxicating.
“Perhaps, madam,” I said.
“I’ll say goodnight. Until we meet again,” she said.
“Of course, goodnight, and thank you again.” I hung up the phone quickly. I had to think.
I might have screwed up royally by covering the camera. No one ever denies anything from the family, even if it’s a matter of personal privacy. She all but confessed to spying on me, and when she said, “something went wrong”, she was blaming me. I was in trouble, but I didn’t know how much.
No more thinking. My companion burst out of the bathroom in a bathrobe, walked straight over to me and POW! slapped me across the face.
“That’s for the blindfold and the spankings!” she hissed angrily. “Just look what you did!” One of her perfect butt cheeks was flushed pink and a little red, like a fresh peach. I quietly apologized and went to touch it, feeling soft flesh with firm muscle underneath. Sublime.
She glared at me as I picked up the phone again and ordered room service. Her anger evaporated when she heard me order the best of everything and a lot of it. I explained loudly that the faster they brought it, the larger the tip. She smiled at that.
We sat and talked a bit while we waited. Neither of us wanted to talk about ourselves. She did explain that she was a member of a crew that handled gambling, prostitution, and other activities as needed for the family. The gig she signed up for tonight was well-paid in advance and was a special request from the boss lady herself. This woman referred to the boss lady several times by her first name, and that told me a lot. They were friends, or maybe partners? Or lovers? The boss lady had presented this woman with a complete dossier of me prior to tonight, so she knew more about me than I had originally thought.
We ate and drank in relative silence, staring at each other. We were famished from our interlude. I did get her to smile when I told her how beautiful and sexy she was, and she told me I was better looking in person than in photographs. Her clothes and bag were stashed in the dresser, and she dressed quickly and headed for the door. The only thing she said to me before leaving was “next time let her watch”. I thought I would never see her again. I was wrong.
Exhausted, I showered and hit the sheets, which smelled of her perfume and her hair and her musk. I was smitten.
I slept hard and woke at dawn with an upset stomach and a throbbing headache. Too much fancy stuff. I stumbled to the phone and ordered coffee. Luckily, I found aspirin and some pepto-tabs in my kit, and cold water in the mini-fridge. I stood in a searing hot shower until I felt almost human.
My doorbell rang and I could actually smell fresh-brewed coffee so I threw the door open without checking. Big mistake. Two large gentlemen were there to meet me. One had a big, steaming go-cup of java, the other had a big can of whoop-ass. A quick jab to my throat silenced me, another light tag to my jaw put me out. I don’t think I hit the floor.
I came to in a minute and found myself lying naked on the big bed. I answered the door wearing only my hotel robe, so stripping me down wasn’t a challenge. I was being tied down, spread-eagle, with thick nylon restraints and heavy straps; way too much bondage for the likes of me. I was also fitted with a lovely black leather gimp-hood, complete with a thick gag, that zipped down the back of my head and also buckled around my neck. It had eye holes, thank god, and air holes at my nose. The bondage was tight with no give, and I was stretched to my limit. All I could do was wiggle my fingers and toes and wag my head. I was down for the count, helpless, hopeless, waiting for torture, death or even worse, being tickled. That woman had made me lose every ounce of common sense. Maybe I deserved what was coming to me.
The men finished strapping me down. One got busy with a small video camera and the other left the room. When the camera was set and powered on, that man also left. I shouted FUCK YOU through my gag and it sounded like a small dog barking at a butterfly. I tested my bonds; there was no way I was going anywhere. I was pondering my predicament when the two assholes returned. Both were carrying things. The first dude had a thick, black document briefcase that he set by the dresser. It was heavy. He looked at me, shook his head and walked out. I knew instantly that it was full of cash, large denomination bills and many stacks of them. The second guy had shopping bags, loaded with booty. All I could see in my “reclined” state were the words on some of the bags. Words like Rolex, Prada, Hermes, and Cartier. Not too shabby. I would thoroughly enjoy all of that, if I lived. He set the bags on the dresser and also walked out.
Oh fuck me, I thought. I knew then that I had broken a rule, or maybe more, and was now on the bad side of the family. I had taken too many liberties with that bound and gagged goddess last night; I had blocked the video feed most likely going straight to the boss lady herself. How badly was I going to have to pay? Were these sins punishable by death? I thought about the incredibly hot scene last night, and I also remembered the sound of the boss lady’s voice over the phone. My mind betrayed my body, and I started to get hard. Really? Right now? I struggled and groaned and started to sweat. That was when I heard the door open. I froze.
I didn’t know who to expect. Would it be a large, muscular, amazon enforcer coming to break my bones and pinch off my most cherished body parts? Were the two men returning to bring me more treasure that I would never get to spend? It was neither. It was two women, one whom I had the pleasure of meeting last night. The other was the boss lady herself.
Last night, I thought my gift woman was the most beautiful person in this region. I was wrong. Boss lady was just as beautiful and a bit older, which was perfectly okay with me. Boss lady stood at the end of the bed while the gift woman paced just outside the bedroom door. The older woman was breathtaking. She was tall and well-built, with stately shoulders and a large bosom. She had more pronounced curves and hips going down to shapely and strong legs. She wore a tight suit that showed ample cleavage. Both women were dressed in various shades of red, obviously the family color. The boss came closer to me, and I could see her face, flawless with just enough age and wisdom to be truly sexy and dominant. Her big dark eyes swept over me with a look of both hunger and amusement. Her hair was shoulder length with just a hint of gray mixed in with great highlights. This woman was experienced, which made her very desirable. Of course, my cock reacted exactly as it should NOT have at that moment and began to grow noticeably. My embarrassment showed.
“I’ll take that reaction as a compliment”, she whispered.
I looked away and tried to get very small.
“If you are wondering,” she went on, “I wanted to show you how upset I was yesterday when you foiled my plans for some entertainment. I’m still a bit upset today, but I think you will be my consolation.”
“Please! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!” I pleaded, but nothing came out but wet mumbles.
“Come now. How can you console me if you keep talking?” she asked.
She snapped her fingers and gift lady came quickly. They got to work. Boss lady began to undress and gift lady went to the dresser and retrieved what she needed: the lube, one of the weird toys with a wire and a controller, and a couple of small leather patches. She was on me in a flash, popping a lubed plug straight into my backside and resting it against my prostate. I wailed and fought at the sudden intrusion, but she clicked it on and sent a wave of startling pleasure into me. I looked over and the last thing I saw was a naked boss lady. She was pretty damn gorgeous, full breasts and flawless skin, and I thought this would not be the worst way to die. Then I went blind.
Leather patches were snapped over each eye and my hood was complete. I heard my gift-goddess whisper “hope you like that”. I didn’t. I understood then why she fought against losing her sight during our bondage scene. It amplifies the other senses a thousand times.
I wasn’t going to muscle my way out of this situation, though I tried really, really hard. I wasn’t the most muscular specimen of manhood, but I was no slouch. Travel, stress, work, alcohol, bad food in small quantities, and no sleep kept me on the thin side. The exercise I did get made me wiry and lithe, but weak. My “package” was above average, and I considered myself an able, responsive lover in the sheets. That’s in the sheets, mind you, not spread, hooded and laid out like a brunch buffet.
I was tense and starting to sweat when the women came at me. I was strangely hard from the buzzer working on me in my ass, but my cock was not the first point of interest. Small, soft, warm hands set down on my chest and tested the firmness there. Sharp fingernails flicked at my nipples. This was the boss. She was getting ready to either mount me or pull my heart out. She swung her leg over me as I whispered, “please don’t kill me”.
And just when she was settled on top of me, I bucked up like a swatted mule. Shit! The other woman had run one of her goddam fingernails right the fuck up the sole of my right foot and did the same going down! I almost threw the boss off of me and the bed. I wanted to die, and I thought maybe she would oblige. I half-laughed, half-screamed through my gag, and started to really struggle. I was in big, big trouble.
The two women giggled and spoke quietly to each other, words I could barely hear and would not understand. They seemed to enjoy this reaction from me; it got them going. Then the fun started. They both got on the bed. I felt drops of lube oil hit me in various places, all of them very sensitive and naughty. I tried my bondage one more time, but it was pointless. I was theirs.
I writhed on the bed and moaned into my gag, which brought more enthusiasm from the women. Hands were now on my stomach, chest, thighs, hips, and even reached around to grab and squeeze chunks of my butt cheeks. I was slippery with lube and sweat. Sharp fingernails scraped along my armpits, ribcage, nipples and feet and made me wail and fight and laugh and cry. My entire body was assaulted, except for one place, and by that time, it was granite hard, tingling and throbbing, wet with pre-cum and oil. I needed some attention there badly. After an eternity of this, the boss whispered something and the other woman got off the bed and disappeared out of the room.
I thought it could not get worse (better) than what I had just experienced, but I was wrong. The boss quietly crouched between my trembling legs and took me with both hands, cupping my balls and stroking my slick shaft with soft, strong hands. I froze, terrified and aroused at the same time.
A man in bondage will struggle like hell when being groped and prodded and tickled but will freeze when the attention turns to his junk. It’s too risky to move or jerk when someone is messing around there. Too much movement, and the ball sack gets thumped or the tender shaft gets pinched or scratched. This is unpleasant. But, when the stimulator is skilled, careful and attentive, the sensation is heavenly. The boss was every one of those things. I had a thought about what she intended to do.
I was certain that I was going to be edged into oblivion. She worshipped my cock. She stroked and sucked and twisted and massaged like she’d done this a million times. She held my balls firm and worked them gently, sending pleasure to every point of my body. She could read every signal my body made, and just when the signs of a booming orgasm began to gel deep inside me, she would back off. Fuck! I would jump in my bondage and thrust my pelvis into the air like a teenager, screaming for just a little more stimulation to get me there. Nothing. I hated that bitch. I cursed her and her whole family through my gag. Then, she would start all over. I loved that bitch. I told her that, too.
I was slowly going insane with pleasure and torment. She could hear me through my gag whimpering “please”, and “oh fuck” and she loved it. Every time I got close to an orgasm, I was robbed, and left pleading and squirming. I could hear her giggle. I wanted to cum in her face and her hair. I just wanted to cum. I needed to cum, if I was ever going to survive this with my mind intact. The vibe in my ass churned on, keeping me aroused and sending little jolts of pleasure from my crotch to the tip of my swollen cock. The boss had stretched an elastic cock ring around the base of my balls and shaft, helping me stay hard and maintaining the delicious sensitivity, until she viciously stopped and left me hanging and whining in my unforgiving bondage.
“I believe I’ve made my point”, she purred, as she began to stroke the oily head of my cock.
I said nothing, and prayed for a blinding orgasm, then a painless death.
“To deprive someone of satisfaction can be…frustrating,” she said. “I suppose I can make us both feel less disappointed.”
She took me in her mouth and worked her tongue around me like magic. Her hand stroked me firmly and I was ready. Quietly she mounted me and worked me into herself with a quiet gasp and shudder. Her rhythm was slow, and I followed, although it took all of my will to not start pounding her tight, warm pussy like a jackhammer. She quickened. Her hand moved between us and her fingers found her clit, making her pant and moan. I tried everything I could to hold off, until she got closer to climax. Thank god I didn’t have to wait long. I was past ready. She was almost ready. We needed to get there together.
Together. I thrust into her with all of my strength while she worked her hips and rubbed her clit. Finally! Please! Please! Yes, I got over the fucking edge and she was with me. We both came, screaming and writhing, over and over and over. Her fingernails scraped trails down my chest, adding delicious pain to the overwhelming pleasure. We were spent. I was still alive.
She laid on top of me for a little while, then got up quickly. I couldn’t see her. I heard her move about the room then get dressed. I didn’t move a muscle. She snapped her fingers twice, making me jump a little, and things got kinda crazy.
People busted into the room. I assumed it was my gift-girl and the two thugs. I was unstrapped and pushed off the bed, in all of my glorious nakedness. Strong hands unzipped my hood and snatched it away, gag and all, nearly breaking my neck in the process. The bright light hitting my uncovered eyes blinded me. The crew took what they needed and left quickly. I curled up on the floor an achy, sweaty, sticky, greasy mess, covered in cum, tears and spit. I was also alive, so I never felt better.
After a long, boiling hot shower. I sat on the floor of the hotel bedroom admiring the case full of cash and the bags of treasure that were left for me. It was more than I ever had, and better than I ever dreamed.
However, all of that loot wasn’t as dear to me as what the boss had left me at the end: four deep scratches on my chest, from my nipples to my belly button. Not too deep. Just enough to leave light scars. Scars I would run my fingers over every chance I got, whether dressed or naked, making me pause to remember everything.
A year later I got a phone call. The boss. Her son was in a “bit of a bind” (huge trouble) and needed my help. I caught the first flight out. Christmas was months away, but I hoped that there would be “gifts”.