The Commuter

“Silly,” The woman chimed in, smiling and lightly slapping my shoulder in a familiar kind of way. “We can meet them in the room.”

What room, I wondered.

“You did make the room reservation, didn’t you?” She gave the desk clerk a roll of her eyes as if once again amazed at her partner’s forgetfulness. Then she asked the clerk, “We need a room for tonight, hopefully one we can get into now so we can prepare for a meeting.” She leaned into the counter and batted her eyes and added, “You do have such a room for us please, don’t you?” She smiled at him.

The clerk was hypnotized just as I and that made me feel somewhat vindicated for being in a strange place with what I now considered a strange woman all over again. He looked at the computer.

“Uh, please, if you will be so kind, one that is in a quiet section of the motel? Where our meeting will not be disturbed? Or disturb anyone else?”

What the hell did she mean by that, I wondered. At this point, I had no idea what was happening. I was along for a ride for which I didn’t even have a ticket. None of what was happening was planned, at least not by me. I intended to spend the morning with some hot woman in a motel and then get to work nonchalantly as if just coming in from a meeting off site. I would work the afternoon and go home at the normal time. All that somehow seemed in jeopardy now, perhaps me too. I was getting worried.

The clerk took my card and handed us two electronic keys. The Latina lovely, her lips redder and glossier than ever, her eyes made up with deep blue liner and long lashes, swiped both keys into her hand and said, “Come along dear,” as she turned toward the elevator. I simply followed, glancing at the clerk somewhat haplessly as I passed. He winked and gave me a thumbs up signal. He probably wished he were me at that instant. If he’d only asked, I probably would have let him have his wish!

In the elevator I asked with a deliberate air of confidence, “How much time do you have?” She simply smiled and put a hand under my arm. That reassurance was most appreciated. Nothing more was said as we left the elevator and walked.

We arrived at the room, at the end of the second floor hall. The sexy, mysterious woman used one of the keys to open the door and stepped in ahead of me. We were in a suite! We had been charged a regular room rate, but somehow the batting eyes must have gotten to the clerk too and we were upgraded to not only the quietest room, but probably the largest one.

The Latina placed her bag on the luggage rack and marched around the suite. I simply stood at the entrance and watched her move. Still silent, she had an expressionless look on her face and poked and prodded just about everything she came in contact with. There was a kitchen area with refrigerator, stove and sink separated from the sitting room by a bar. She even checked the freezer and nudged the ice trays as if to see they were acceptable.

The sitting room contained a couch in the center, fronted by a substantially built coffee table, and two end tables. There were two floor lamps and curtains on windows on the two sides of the corner room. All this was faced with an armour containing a mid-sized TV and a few drawers. “Won’t be needing any of those,” I smirked to myself.

I followed her into the next room, a bedroom of more space than I would have expected. It contained a king sized bed, end tables with lamps, another armour and TV at the foot of the bed, a separate dresser and a curtained window. In all the windows a kind of cheese cloth was already pulled across. There was a door to the bathroom at the far end of the wall, and I assume it contained the usual and met with her approval. She emerged from it a moment later.

“Make me a drink,” She commanded in a low and somewhat gruff voice.

A drink? What the hell was she talking about? We didn’t bring anything like that. We never even talked about it. Hell, we never talked about anything! In all of three years, these past few words this very morning were the only words I had heard out of her Mouth! I felt rather foolish for being so single minded now, not giving a hoot what was about to happen except that my schlong was soon to be embedded in one busty, hot looking Latina Woman!

“You didn’t even bring coffee, did you?” She glared at me. It was almost frightening. My wife didn’t treat me like this.

At home it would be, “Forgot again, did you?” Or, “Typical, only thinking of yourself.” But this woman, in this motel suite, was different. She was actually far worse. I had to decide what to do here. Do I just write the motel bill off as a learning experience, or do I go and get the coffee? I decided to take one last stab at reaching the dream and put my briefcase down.

“How do you like it?” I tried to smile.

“Black, of course.” The words were short, not quite curt. There was still no smile. She turned away and looked around. I left.

There was no coffee in the lobby, and the nearest coffee shop was across the street at the station. I went there and got in line. It was a good ten minutes before I reentered the motel with two large coffee’s, one of them black, and a few pastries, just in case. I dared to hope I hadn’t forgotten anything else.

Chapter Four

At the room door, I had to knock, having left my key on the dresser. The door opened, thought not for nearly a minute. I was beginning to wonder if she had left. This whole bizarre affair was just getting worse and worse.

But she hadn’t left. She was standing slightly behind the opened door, as if to let me in before closing it. I had half hoped she had already stripped down, but I couldn’t see until I got inside. She slid further behind the door as I stepped through, purposefully blocking my view of her. That brought me to a smile. Things were finally beginning to go the way of my dream. I let her keep her little surprise in tact by not trying to look, and simply placing the bag on the counter, and lifting the coffee’s and pastries from it.

“One large black, and...” I said but was interrupted. I heard the sticking of the Velcro strip before it registered that a restraint, a handcuff in effect, had just been slapped on my wrist, no, both wrists. But how could that be? My hands were in front of me, a good foot or more apart from each other, and the Latina Woman was behind me. Yet there they were, one on each wrist, her hands disappearing back behind me.

Just as I noticed a cord streaming back from each cuff, I felt a sharp pain and pressure in my back, and my hands were suddenly pulled behind me with substantial surprise force. Had I not been so surprised by the attack, I would have been able to stop my hands from getting behind me, but since I was off guard, distracted entirely by the sharp pain in my back, my hands were suddenly locked together behind me above my ass.

“Hey! What…” But the next clicks followed, and my ankles were suddenly in separable. This woman was moving at lightening speed. I felt the next tug on my wrists again as I gathered what had just been done – my wrist cuffs were now secured to my ankle cuffs. Oddly however, the tension on the wrists did not seem to lessen as I tried a short bend in my knees. The tension remained the same, and I could not rise from the bend.

The final realization that I was totally and frighteningly bound, at the absolute mercy of a woman I had never even talked to before this morning, was beginning to register in the danger section of my brain. As if to worsen the building dread, the surprisingly strong woman twisted me around, stepped aside and pushed me over the back of the couch.

She quickly maneuvered some ropes and I found myself with head down on the seat, legs jackknifed and hanging in the air behind the couch. I felt the tension in the ropes on my wrists and ankles begin to change. Like a puppet I was being forced to move my body and appendages in directions counter to what I might have intended. Any attempt to fight the changes was futile. Somehow she had gained such leverage so quickly I was now truly helpless. She could rob me, or even kill me and I would have no chance of stopping her.

The morning’s events were racing through my mind in an effort to figure out what might be behind this nightmare. We had been seen together, close up by the desk clerk. Surely she couldn’t think she could commit some crime and not have to face witnesses to her presence. The security cameras most likely in the halls of the building must also have picked up her image. She had to know that.

My mind began to relax just a little, and I focused on the mirror on the wall at the end of the couch. My head was turned toward it, ninety degrees from my body, and forced to see myself if I only opened my eyes and focused. I still had my entire suit on, including tie and jacket, and looked somewhat slovenly, draped over the back of the couch. My tie hung down and over the front of the seat, and my jacket tails suddenly flew up, followed by a loud “Whack!”

The pain was more of a shock than hurtful. It came on my right buttocks and there was no question in my mind that I already had a red mark where whatever hit me had struck, even through my pants and briefs.

I went into another round of rapid thought, assessing, theorizing, trying desperately once again to get a handle on what was happening. Though I had completely forgotten I had one until that moment, natural instinct took over finally and my body flexed against its restraints as my mouth suddenly burst forth with “HEY! What the fuck is going on here?”

Before I could say another word, I heard the woman move, then saw her feet come before my head. I lifted it and faced her, forced to look mostly down. Her high heels were not as enticing as when she was walking before me earlier. These were four inch spikes. Now they were almost menacing. She said nothing.

As I began to open my mouth to speak again, it was suddenly invaded. A round, ball shaped object forced its way between my lips and teeth and planted itself firmly just inside. Instinct brought a reaction from one of my arms to try and rise to the task of removing the obstruction, while I shouted through the device to no avail. My voice was muffled severely and barely a sound escaped.

I felt the straps being tightened behind my head to hold the ball in my mouth. Then she pushed my head back down and into the seat cushion. I turned it back to the mirror, and for the first time truly saw the transformed woman I had followed like a trained dog from the train to the motel.

Chapter Five

Her loose fitting blouse was gone, along with her short black leather skirt. She wore instead a black leather bustier, a garter belt of the same material, and black stockings with a fine fishnet style of mesh. Her bright red heels were matched at the opposite end by her bright and glossy red lips. Her long red hair was flowing everywhere it seemed, down over shoulders in front and in back. In front it cascaded over her ample, unnecessarily pushed up breasts and met the bustier’s top. She stood at my head, facing the mirror, legs two feet apart, and hands on her hips, one holding the paddle again. She wore no panties at all and her shaved pussy was pouting like a caged animal. I was shocked further to see she was wearing an eye mask, also of black leather, large enough that it had an indentation on its bottom edge to allow her nose a bridge.

I could also see now how she had surprised me so effectively at the counter while I removed the coffee’s and Danish from the bag. Each appendage and cuff had its own rope. A push button locking device like that used on back packs to hold draw strings tight, only much larger, was slipped all the way up to my wrists to hold them close. After getting the Velcro strapped cuffs on my wrists, she would have merely had to pull on the rope ends to slide the clasp up toward my end. Every inch she gained on me would have been preserved by the clasp, The second I released my resistance, she would gain more. It was like a Chinese finger cuff, resistance is futile.

My legs were loosened from their hog-tied position, and let down to the floor where they were somehow secured to the base of the couch. My hands were not tied any longer, accept to themselves. There was noting I could do with them behind my back anyway. And my head now had some kind of harness on it, two straps coming forward and holding the red ball in my mouth. I dared not think of what the shiny, stainless steel ring standing tall atop the harness was for.

I found out soon enough. The exotic beauty of a woman, turned slave master, with me at her mercy in only minutes, reached down and pulled the rope tails of the cuffs on my wrists and secured them to the ring on my head harness. My view in the mirror disappeared as my head was drawn back against the tension in my arms. In an effort to relax the strain on my neck, I let my arms bend at the elbows and draw my wrists up. This plan was useless to me of course for she simply tightened the lines to keep the tension on my neck. Finally, I could move no more. My head was up off the seat, facing directly forward over the top of the coffee table at the base of the armour with the TV. I was looking between her spread thighs as she now resumed her previous pose before me.

This all could not have taken ten minutes. The room was silent. There wasn’t much I could do to change that, and I was desperate for some outside influence. She refused to talk it seemed, and was bound and determined to make me more and more helpless. I did not know what else she could do, but I was no longer willing to even guess. This had gone far enough. I had come here for a roll in the hay with a hot little Latina with a full body and big tits. I had expected some aggressive behavior, but frankly I had little hope it would have come from her. What I got however, was a slave master who was quickly eroding my rights, my dignity, and my courage. Just how far was this going to go? I shrugged off the scene of Al Pacino in the movie “Scarface,” where he had been chained hanging over a bathtub, by drug dealers with a chain saw. I didn’t want to die!

There came a laugh, and then another “Whack!” My body had relaxed the second it heard the harmless sound of her laughter, only to tense like a car wreck with the next assault. She was playing with my emotions, and I was barely able to keep that in mind. She laughed again and I tensed the muscles of my ass, when I suddenly felt her hands run gently up the insides of my thighs. She was playing me like a piano, banging keys at one moment, then massaging a soft note the next.

The sensation of her cool hands was so pleasurable a surprise, having been expecting pain, that I breathed a huge sigh of relief, with more than a touch of sensuality. Then “Whack!” again. This time it came twice, once each on the back side of my thighs, near where her soft roving hands had just left me breathless. I bucked aggressively off the floor and couch. This was driving me nuts, and we’d been here just a few minutes. My emotions were going from fear to pleasure to pain and back again. I tried not to think about what I might do to get out of this situation if she really turned out to be violent.

Until now, I was fully clothed. My suit jacket was probably still ok, but my pants and shirt had to be wrinkled from my weight upon them in front.

“I want your pants.”

That was all she said. She was standing behind me somewhere. I couldn’t see her in the mirror, or feel her touching me. She simply made her wish known. I wondered if we were finally going to end this little game and get on with what we came here for.

“So maybe now we can get down to what we came here for?” I asked.

Whack! The paddle or whatever she was hitting me with was back on the job. I felt the sting on my right cheek as sharply as if I’d had no pants on at all.

“I want your pants, Gringo. Do you want me to cut them off, or do you want to raise up so I can take them off?” Her voice was as sharp as her paddle impact. Surely it was too harsh to have come from my delicious little Latina Woman. Surely she was not that mean underneath.

Her command however, was left hanging, with no qualification. It left no other alternatives. If I didn’t cooperate, it meant my pants were about to be destroyed, leaving me in a motel room with no possible way of explaining the loss, even if I did get home. I was nearing the panic button again.

I felt a nudge against my calves and heard her say from somewhere behind me, “Raise up.”

Her voice had softened. The nudge on my calves held no menace in its intensity. Instinctively, I used my head on the seat of the couch, and my cuffed ankles behind it on the floor and pushed my butt up in the air. Immediately I felt her body up against my back side, and her arms reaching around me to unbuckle my pants. The contact felt so warm and soft against me. She had no trouble with that, or the clasp and zipper of my pants. She slipped my trousers down over my ass slowly and let them fall to the floor at my feet, still held by my ankle cuffs.

The next sensation was another “opposite.” With both her hands she massaged my butt cheeks, caressing and kneading them over and under my jockey style briefs. Like my suit, they were dark blue, and must have looked quite the sight contrasted against my white skin and her tanned looking hands. Her touch was cool, but warming in its implications. I felt a hardening in my loins for the first time in awhile. She was definitely turning me on now, and my mind was beginning to relax its vigilance of protection.

She worked my over like this for several minutes before pushing up against me again, reaching underneath and beginning to undo my shirt buttons. One by one I felt her slip them apart until she reached my neck. The woman encountered no delay in removing my tie, and the last button of my shirt. She tugged on the tail of the garment and flipped it up and over my head, forming a tent over my upper reaches. I could see nothing but my hands and the seat and carpet below. I couldn’t even see the mirror anymore.

And then she was gone. No touch, no sound, nothing. This lasted for several minutes. Every now and then I thought I heard a footstep, or something else, but I could not be sure. It was as if she’d tied me up and left me in about the most compromising situation she could, and departed. Maybe she had been hurt before, I thought. Perhaps she was taking a deep frustration or revenge out on me. Had I been wrong about her all these years of wondering about her on the train? Could I have misread her so badly?

Then she was back. I felt my jockey shorts being pulled to my feet. My cock sprang free, aimed at the floor and stiffened up against the couch’s backside. I heard a slight sigh and felt a little relieved the woman was at least human, moaning at the sight of my rock hard cock. Then I felt her working on my ankles. She was going to end this tease and let us get down to business. Finally! But what I felt was more like yet another cuff being attached! And then I realized what she was doing. She was using a third set of the Velcro cuffs attaching it above my pants, first on one leg, and then hooking it to the other leg above my pants. She could thus remove the first cuffs, and my clothing, one leg at a time, without ever loosing control of my limbs. I suppose she knew that if she had only asked to have some fantasy fun, I would surely have complied and helped her out. Then again, maybe she wasn’t merely playing out some fantasy. Maybe this was some kind of sexual attack, to be followed by what, a robbery? Worse?

I wanted to kick myself for thinking the worst. I kept reminding myself, three years! There’s no way this is an attack for real! WHACK!

The redness had to be boiling on my ass after that one. She really hit my right cheek with a flattening blow. I was beginning to despise that damn paddle, if that indeed was what it was. Why did she want to hit me? Had I insulted her? Hell, she had never displayed the first interest in me and the second I showed one in her, she spread her legs, right there on the train! What could she be mad about?