A Stopover

It's in the elevator that I notice I'm trembling feverishly. Yes, in the hotel lounge my voice had quavered, but I'd been almost numb with anxiety. I'd been nervous to meet Jason for the same reason I wanted to so badly: He is stunning. Part of what makes him so attractive is a dominant look in the eyes that can't be faked: cold but not dead-eyed, cruel but beckoning. It was on display in the photos he sent me. It's still there in front of me over a glass of wine. He has light blue eyes--my favorite--short blond hair, a pretty smile that struck me as having a practiced warmth, and a wonderfully tall and energetic body. His skin glows with health; he'd been on vacation someplace sunny and arranged his travel plans to include a night in New York to meet me.

We talked and he was polite, direct, not pushy, but perhaps he never had to be; my pupils must have been blown wide at the sight of him. That and my breathing was shallow, my hands shook... yes, it was obvious I'd submit. It was effortless.

If I hadn't felt so submissive to him, I would have been all over him as soon as the elevator door closed. Then again, I wouldn't have wanted him so much if he wasn't the kind of man who demanded I beg first. I'd beg for his touch, to be kissed, for all of it. I'd beg to suck on his toes, cock, his fingers... but now it's mine he brings to his lips. He takes my hand in his and grips it tightly--possessive, not affectionate--and brings it to his soft, pink lips. He bites the pad of my middle fingertip and flicks his tongue against it suggestively. I can barely breathe I'm so aroused and terrified. Of him, but also that he'd change his mind, be called away suddenly, or that I'll simply wake up. I'm terrified of the wet proof of my need to do the things he's promised, all the acts and pleasures that await on the other side of that door.

We walk down the empty corridor. Jason stops, but not at the door of his room. He reaches in his shoulder bag, one like any well-dressed traveler would carry, and produces a wide leather collar. It looks like it used to be black, but it's worn from use and taken on a vintage brown cast. It's not a gift for me. It's not mine. This is something he has because this is what he does. It's equipment, not a love token. My fever spikes even more at the sight of it.

Standing there in the hall next to a housekeeping cart, voices from rooms faintly carrying, he fastens the collar snugly around my thin neck. I hear myself mewl at each small brush of his hands as he does this. He smiles down at me. He is so tall. He pulls me against him by one of the collar's heavy rings. His body feels so hard, all lean muscle and bone and arousal. He smells like expensive soap and sex. I smell like sex and fear. This will be perfect if the rest of us meshes as deliciously.

His hand strokes down my spine to conform to my ass, which he pulls against him, too. I think I might be moaning. Then he lets go of me to find the chain lead in his bag and clips it to the collar.

I look up at him with big eyes and he laughs. "You are such a puppy. I'm so glad we were able to connect," he says with a deliberate tug on the chain. "Now let's get you inside; we'll start with a quick obedience lesson."

My heart leaps and sinks at once... I already feel greedy and the seconds of our one night together tick by so fast. I am determined to savor each one and make Jason recall this puppy every future time he'll touch this collar. Even though I'm nervous as hell, I know I was built for this; I know, deep down, I'll satisfy that craving that took him miles out of his way to this girl in this place.

He walks me to the end of the hall slowly, but no one sees us. He unlocks the room and we enter. The place is modern and elegant but beyond that, nothing registers but him. Jason is not the kind of Dominant who gets off on posing in his suit while a naked girl serves him. He's a hedonist who loves sex and feels good in his skin. He takes off his clothes right away. "Get undressed," he commands casually, only half-watching with those glittering, cold eyes. I gulp, audibly.

I peel off my dress quickly, glad I remember that the chain still dangles from my neck. I think about the silly amount of time I'd spent choosing a lacy bra and panties, stockings, suspenders that wouldn't show under my clingy knit dress. Jason isn't interested, or he isn't today. "All of that, too. Let me see you. I was patient about the modest pics you sent because I understand being sensible about what you send to someone online. You'll find I'm less patient in person. Far less."

He looks dangerous and gorgeous standing there erect and naked. His posture itself is dominant like it's in his DNA. This, I love. I like to roleplay and a bit of theatrics, but the number of fakes and wannabes I've encountered online and, unfortunately, in real life, makes me want to kneel and kiss the feet of a genuine Dom. So I kneel. He doesn't mind the initiative--it's not Simon says, after all.

"Very good. You want to be a good girl for me, don't you?" he asks curiously, almost like he's surprised by me, too. Is he surprised this is real for me, that 'the real me' is this submissive?

"Yes, Sir," I ask, waiting for any correction. No, "Sir" is correct for Jason.

"Do you want to ask me anything before you're my puppy girl? Puppies don't talk, you know," he says pleasantly.

"Um, what are the rules?" I ask, feeling stupid. Downstairs over a drink, we'd simply chatted and he'd said everyday things to make me feel comfortable with him. It hadn't been a BDSM negotiation.

Jason arches a smooth eyebrow. "Rules? My dear, you do what I want you to do, without hesitation, like a good girl should. If you don't like something, you do it anyway to please me. If you truly don't like something, I trust you to have a good reason and I'll respect your safe word. Tell me your safe word."

"I don't have one--I never needed one!"

I realize how irresponsible that sounds and I blush. I must seem like a novice. It's not that, it's just that I've never come close to my limits. How I'd been sure I'd never need the safe word in my back pocket, I do not know. I operate by instinct when it comes to fulfilling my desires. The only way that has let me down is that they've never taken me to someone strong enough, who'd go far enough in his domination.

"I guarantee you won't want to use it with me, but you have to think of one," he says, that aforementioned impatience puncturing his silky voice.

"Avocado!" I decide. It's what I ate for breakfast.

He shrugs his tanned shoulders. "If you're in pain or there is something I really need to know, I'll stop if I hear that. But you do understand I'm not a gentle Dom and I expect submission."

"Yes, Sir," I reply, delighted to hear this from him.

"I think that's why you're here with me now, isn't it? It's not just that you have a thing for blonds," he says wryly.

* * * * *

"Now. Without using your paws, pick up the end of the leash and bring it to me," Jason says.

I lower myself onto my hands and knees so that the chain pools on the floor, then I crawl back a few inches and bend my elbows to pick up the hand loop with my teeth. The scent of the burnished leather in my mouth mingles with those of new indigo carpet and stainless steel. I crawl to Jason, quick but still slinky. I am skinny enough to have noticeable ribs and am somewhat swaybacked, with significant muscle mass in my lower body. In this position, my body does resemble an animal. I sit back on my heels, shoulders back with stiff, upturned nipples presented. I'm drooling slightly.

My new Master ruffles my sheepdog-like mop of rust-colored curls. He takes the leash from me.

"Walk nicely for me."

I know this means to crawl beside him where he'll lead me.

"Climb up. Dogs shouldn't be on the bed, but since this is a hotel and I've had a long journey, I'll make an exception." He pats the white comforter and I climb up onto all fours, facing away from him. The sturdy bed doesn't creak at all under my weight, though the surface is luxuriously soft.

Jason pets my back, but his fingertips are quickly in my cleft, thumb digging into the meat of my ass cheek. His touch skates over my clenched anus a few times then dips lower into my dripping cunt. It makes a wet sound. Jason's murmur of approval is more like a noise than a word, an "Oh" that finishes in a shuddering intake of breath. Or maybe that was me.

"You are not allowed to come. Not for a while, so you'd better hold onto it. You are not to chase after it; if you feel yourself getting close, you back off. Understand?" he says wickedly as he fingers my pussy in generous, firm strokes.

I whimper enthusiastically; I try to make it sound more like obedience than pleasure but this feels too good already. Already, I wonder what the punishment will be because this man is going to make me come.

He fingers me, going deeper and steadily grazing my G-spot. He doesn't correct me when I rock my hips back against his hand, making this harder on me. My body is flooded with a singular need and conflicting desires. Then he stops and reverses the path he'd taken, up to my puckered asshole.

"Relax," he commands. "I get to have every part of you. All your holes are mine, not yours," he says like he's talking to a bad dog. I make myself yield to him and earn a "Good girl." He says it with a sweetness that I know is a lie and that arouses me even more. I shiver.

His fingers are still coated in my natural slick and it's painless even if I don't like it. What I love about this is a chance to be an obedient pet and show him he can take whatever he wants. I crave more praise from him and to experience his sincere pleasure.

Two fingers now, and I whine--not in protest, just to express that I'm struggling. I sense he'd want that--either because he cares or because it tickles his sadistic fancy. It's probably the latter that makes him purr.

"Shh, you're trying so hard, aren't you? Well, alright, then--that's enough of that for right now. And you were a good girl to follow my instructions to clean yourself so thoroughly."

Jason had made clear before we saw each other that I was to take an enema, which, of course, I'd done earlier in the day. The feeling had been distressing, but now I breathed a sigh of relief that he was satisfied. Every inch of him was far too perfect to be made dirty in any way and I hated the thought.

He stretches out on his back on the bed, crossways. "Come here. Sit on my face."

I start to crawl toward him, then hesitate. I'm puzzled. Sitting on his face doesn't seem like a submissive thing to do. Jason raises himself on his elbows, looking like a snack. There's that arched eyebrow again above icy blue eyes. That look says it all: You're disobeying me? You must be joking.

I hurry up and, shaking with nerves I because I'm sure I must be making a mistake, straddle that gorgeous, smooth face and lower my sloppy wetness onto his mouth. He snakes his tongue up into my core to make me moan, then seeks my swollen clit and starts to lick. This is diabolical--I'm not allowed to come and he is terribly good at this. I try not to squirm against him and when I move to pull away to slow down the building pleasure, he grabs my hips. He will leave ten oval bruises there on either side.

He holds me firmly in place and bears down on my clit with the tip of his tongue, caressing the ultimate spot again and again. I tilt my pelvis up to escape this and his tongue slips into my ass.

I freeze, sure this is an error and it's my fault. It isn't. He licks insistently at my rear entrance and I give up. He tongue-fucks my ass, something I've done to Doms but never thought one would do to me. It's strangely wonderful. "Oh, oh... OH!" I cry, sounding much more like a woman in heat than a puppy girl.

Jason hums beneath me. He begins to circle my clit with his thumb. I can't stand it. I resolve to try harder and when I realize I'm resisting the orgasm with all my strength I go weak and plunge right into it. It's one of the memorable ones in my life that will stand out as the ecstasy people chase when they seek out sex. I'm so overcome with it that I shriek, then clamp my hands over my mouth to keep the noise down--I'm conscious of where we are and I don't want any interruptions tonight!

He stops and releases his grip so that I can swing my thigh over to keep from drowning him. On all fours beside him, I lower my forehead to the bed, too spent to hold myself up and I keep myself in shape, too.

I wonder how he's going to punish me for this.

"You weren't supposed to come. Bad dog," he says lazily. He knows damn well he did everything to force it from me like he knew my body inside out. He made it impossible not to come hard exactly as I did.

I inch closer and nuzzle against his shoulder by way of apology.

"You're very cute, yes, but you still get punished now," he says as he strokes me thoughtfully.

* * * * *

"Lie flat, face down," Jason says in a neutral tone that's hard for me to read. I obey right away.

I feel the mattress shift as he gets up to return to the shoulder bag on the table. I have a feeling I know what he's getting and I'm correct: Cuffs to match the collar, as well as black cotton ropes.

I raise one paw passively, then the other to be secured to the headboard in my face-down position. I'm still floating in a post-orgasmic and submissive headspace; any adrenaline I'll feel from being restrained hasn't yet been released into my bloodstream. I feel relaxed and enjoy any accidental touch of his naked body against mine as he ties me down.

"I wonder how many times your infraction deserves? I made myself clear that you were supposed to control yourself and yet you creamed all over my face. Such a naughty puppy," he says as he scrapes his short but sharp nails down from my shoulder blade to my lower back. There, he circles my unfortunate tattoo, scratching into the concave muscle like he means to excise it.

"I think we'll just see how red your little ass can get before you can't take any more," he muses aloud. His voice still soothes, dangerous as it sounds, but I'm immediately on high alert by the suddenness and force of the impact. His large hand lands squarely on my right buttock--that's the side further away from where he stands, but he has a long reach.

The blow hits with a cracking sound, like a whip. "I won't ask you to count them," he chuckles, and I smile at how much he enjoys my animalistic side. A puppy can't count, but she can make a range of little cries. I yelp softly with each slap of his hand as they rain down in quick succession.

He's not holding back, or hardly at all, and the nerve endings under the delicate skin burn, then hum, then scream in alarm... then begin to sing. Just when I'm genuinely afraid that I'll have to beg for mercy, the pain gives way to a heat that's neither good nor bad, then peaceful pleasure like a massage, then sexual pleasure like the prelude to the deep, hard fuck I need. I moan, raw and loud, when I realize the intensity of the craving inside me. The place I want him most is so close and cruelly far from where his hand strikes me over and over.

He recognizes that tone in my cries. Instead of another slap, Jason slides the palm of his hand down between my legs. I know my body and am sure my labia are as red as my ass cheeks from being so aroused I feel intoxicated from it. I feel grateful he's bound me securely because I feel out of control of my body otherwise. His hand slides around in the slippery, swollen folds he finds there as he explores what he's done to me.

"Oh, my dear, you do like to be punished, don't you? I think the true punishment is to make you wait for my cock. I was going to fuck you, but I think we'll wait..." he speaks like a true sadist. "Or maybe I won't give you my cock at all, and I'll just stroke myself while I admire your pretty body, so abused and helpless... and I'll come on the red handprints I left on your ass."

That commanding voice with the quality of a whisper, the conflict bursting inside me between loving and hating the idea he's just described--it's too much and my body thrashes in the restraints. Of course, I love his power over me... so much so that I'm greedy for him and I need to feel him inside me like a lover. That's the mindfuck that addicts me: If he wanted me like a "boyfriend" and was eager to satisfy me, I couldn't desire him like I do, even with that exquisite body.

"Uh-uh, don't do that, baby girl," he chides. "You might hurt yourself."

I go limp with a snort. I don't mean to sound bratty--it's with myself that I'm frustrated. I am always more submissive in my imagination than when I'm in the moment and not getting what my body needs to satisfy its gluttonous sex drive. The mind needs this scene exactly as Jason's making it happen for us. The effect of it on me is to turn my body into a bitch in heat that would do anything to be filled up with his hard cock.

I take some deep breaths. Jason goes to the mini-fridge and gets a bottle of cold water.

"Here. Now is a good time for you to hydrate a little."

To my surprise, he unties one of the ropes so that I can turn over. He cradles my head and brings the bottle to my mouth like he's feeding a baby animal. It's certainly unexpected. Then again, it shouldn't surprise me; Jason is experienced and knows how to take care of a sub. He knows how not to ruin one so that he can play with them harder and longer.

The water cools me off and I realize I was thirsty from panting. I almost say thank you before I catch myself. I show him gratitude with my eyes. He sees this and smiles, more satisfied than warm. He sets the water on the nightstand and then reties the rope, this time with me on my back.

"I want to see your eyes," he says. But that will not do on its own. Even bound to the headboard, I'd look too vanilla for his taste if I'm not blindfolded. Jason retrieves my panties from the pile of my clothing on the floor. "Open," he commands and then pushes them into my mouth to gag me.

Jason looms over me, one knee on the bed as if paused in the movement to climb on top of me. His erection is at a tantalizing angle in this pose, swaying heavily, seducing my eyes. He sees me staring and trails a finger from its juicy tip slowly down to the thick base. My new owner is somewhat aloof in his demeanor but the leaking precum belies his true state.

"I want you bad," he says unemotionally. "I wonder if I should deny myself just to make you suffer--I do love that look in my puppy's eyes. It's a dilemma, isn't it?"

By this point, his hand is wrapped around his hard-on, the grip flexing but not jerking. He's fully in control of both of us.

"You told me you're flexible. Did you do follow my instruction to do a full stretching routine before you arrived here?"

I nod. The balled-up lace remains firmly in my mouth. I could spit it out with a little effort if I needed to, but I still want it there.

"What a good girl you are to do that for me," he says letting the words come out sugared as a treat for me. "See if you can bend one leg up to catch the headboard with your foot. I'd like to see that!"

His glee is sadistically sexy. I attempt this and can't quite achieve it but give him an eyeful as I struggle. He sees that I just need a little help; like a gentleman, he takes delicate hold of my ankle and presses down so that my foot can be hooked into a wrought-iron swirl. It's a stylish thing fashioned into abstract vines, but nicely practical for non-sleep bed uses.

The stretch on my hamstring feels good. It's the exposure that's uncomfortable, but the look on Jason's face when he gazes between my thighs makes it worth it. I'm shaved for him, bare and open, swollen and dripping. My cheeks burn pink like my ass, but, deep down, I'm unashamed. I'm so sure I'm about to feel him inside me that I forget to breathe. I should know better.