Alison's Fall

Nobody did. At the third floor the couple gave her a doubtful smile and wandered off in search of their room.

She checked the time again. Oh fuck... 12.45. She was late. She could explain it to him. Surely he'd forgive her, just this once.

On the fifth floor she ran out of the elevator and down the corridor, frantically staring at the room directions. Where was 517? Down there... that way... so close now.

He was coming out of the door just as she turned into the last stretch of corridor, his face expressionless as he walked past her.

"God I'm so sorry... I was as fast as I could be... there was this couple... please... god please!"

He stopped, turned to face her. Her spirits lifted slightly. He had to forgive her. He had too!

"I have very firm rules, Alison."

"I know you do... I'm so sorry... I really am... I'll never do it again..."

"Why should I break my rules for you?"

"Please... just give me a chance... please."

He looked at her. She was close to tears, breathless.

"Are you worth it, Alison?"

"God yes, I promise you, I am."

"Tell me."

She stared at his face, hoping desperately for a clue. What did he want to hear?

"I'll suck your cock better than anybody ever has. I'll be your slut. I'll do anything you want."

"Anything? Think very carefully about what that means. I will expect that to mean... anything."

She didn't hesitate. She knew she couldn't. "God yes... anything at all."

"Do you promise me that?"

"Yes... I promise."

He thought for a moment. It felt like the longest moment of Alison's life.

Then he took the card key from his pocket, and gave it to her.

"Open the door, Alison."

**

The room was one of the more expensive ones, with a view over the park. There was a small separate dining area off to one side, and a large, luxurious en-suite bathroom with a shower large enough for two people to shower together.

The first thing she saw were the flowers on the table. It was a large, elaborate arrangement, and it made her think of the much more modest offering her husband had given her the night before. But those flowers belonged to a different person, living a different life. All that mattered was the person who was here now, who she was with, and what they were about to do.

He was taking off his jacket and hanging it carefully on a hangar in the wardrobe. Beneath his suit he was wearing a waistcoat. It took confidence to wear a waistcoat, she thought. Certainly Steven didn't lack that. Look how easily she'd come running when he'd clicked his fingers. How had he known that she would? How had he known she was ready?

He settled himself down into one of the armchairs and gestured to her.

"Get undressed, Alison."

He watched silently as she rather nervously slipped off her clothes. First her blouse, then her skirt, until she was standing there in just her underwear.

"Turn around. Slowly."

She did as he told her, rotating herself slowly so that he could see all of her. God, she'd always hated people staring at her ass. What if he was repelled by it, decided he could get some younger woman whose ass was still tight and taut and perfect? Her stomach felt empty at the prospect.

"Very nice. Really very nice indeed."

His praise was like rain sweeping into a desert, and she had to stifle a sob. God, how had he reduced her to this?

"Now take off everything else."

That was the work of just a few seconds. Now she stood naked in front of him. She could feel her nipples were rock hard, like small pebbles. And she knew if she touched herself, she would be soaking wet. But she wouldn't, of course. Not until he told her she could. Somehow she knew some of the rules already, though she was certain there would be more. Many rules. But it would be worth it.

"Kneel on the bed for me, Alison."

She did as he instructed, feeling very exposed and ever so slightly silly as she positioned herself on the end of the bed, facing the pillows with her legs a little apart. She heard him walk up behind her. Then she gasped as she felt a single finger run down one of her buttock cheeks, from the bottom of her back down to the top of her leg.

"You are a fuckable little bitch, aren't you?"

She wasn't sure he wanted her to answer, so she just nodded. She could hear the sounds of him slipping off his shoes and then removing his clothes. It seemed to take forever. It sounded like each item was being carefully folded and put away. He's really making me wait, she thought. Jesus, if he doesn't touch me properly soon I think I'm going to scream...

She gasped again as suddenly she felt both of his hands on her, one on each side of her, holding her hips. And almost at the same instant she felt something graze against her slit. Something hard and masculine. She whimpered.

"Do you want me to fuck you, Alison?"

She nodded again, but he tutted.

"No, tell me."

"Please fuck me. God, please Steven, please fuck me."

"But you're married. Wouldn't that be wrong?"

Oh, he was an evil bastard, reminding her of that. It made her even wetter.

"I don't care... please fuck me. Hurry! I can't stand it."

She jolted as he pushed himself roughly into her, stretching her out deliciously. God, he felt big. She moaned with pleasure.

His hands moved from her hips to her shoulders, pulling her back towards him as he began to thrust more energetically into her. She couldn't remember the last time... fuck no, she couldn't remember ever having been penetrated without at least a little foreplay first. Some kissing. Maybe a little oral to get everything nice and wet and ready. Whereas this... this was impersonal and ruthless and she knew, already, she was going to come harder than she ever had before.

She heard him breathing more heavily as he fucked her harder. She longed to be able to turn around and feel him on top of her, pushing down deep into her, being able to put her arms around him and kiss him as he used her so selfishly. Just that would be enough for me, she thought. Perhaps next time.

God -- she suddenly thought with horror that there might not be a next time. Perhaps he only fucked his women once and then moved on. Surely not. But somebody like Steven... they seemed to have their own rules. Perhaps that was one of his. One thing she knew for sure, this was not the first time he'd done something like this. He was just too confident, too knowing. She felt a pang of jealousy that she was probably just the latest in a string of conquests. Not the first, and she wouldn't be the last.

Never mind. For now, in this moment, he was hers.

She realised she was close to orgasm. He'd moved a hand to one of her breasts that had been swaying beneath her, tweaking and teasing her nipple which had triggered what felt like an electric current running from her chest to her groin.

"Shall we call your husband?"

"What... what do you mean?" A shiver of delicious fear ran through her.

"We could call him now, couldn't we?" He was only slightly out of breath, though he'd been pounding her quite relentlessly for several minutes now. He's a machine, she thought, he's some kind of fucking robot.

"No... I couldn't...."

"You could tell him you're being fucked, that you're in a hotel and your pussy is soaking wet and you have another man's cock deep inside you and you're being fucked hard and you're about to come..."

"No... please..."

Part of her was horrified at the idea. Most of her. But a smaller part of her... God, could she really do that? She knew, deep down, not only that she could, but that she wanted to. Flouting all the conventions, being an absolute slut and a terrible wife and a terrible mother... that was part of what was making her so turned on now.

"Fuck," she said. "Fuck... I'm going to come."

"No," he said. "Not yet."

Oh fuck. Could she hold it back? She knew she had to. Another one of the rules of the game that she somehow understood. She came when he told her she could.

She bit her lip, trying to use the pain to distract herself. But god, she was so close. It was like pushing back against a wave on a beach.

She felt her muscles tighten around his cock, and he grunted. He began to fuck her a little faster. Please god, she thought, please let him come now. If he comes then I can come and if I don't come soon I think I'm going to die from trying to hold it back.

She felt one of his hands reach up and take a handful of her hair, pulling on it gently but firmly so her head was raised up and she was forced to look straight ahead. She saw the pillows on the bed, one slipping down so as to be slightly askew. She could just see out of the window to one side of the bed, could see all the office buildings and brightly lit windows.

The whole world is going on like normal, she thought. Going on like normal; boring lives doing boring things... and I'm here on my knees being fucked so beautifully by this wonderful, terrible man. She felt like crying with gratitude.

He started to come inside her then, pulling more viciously on her hair as his body bucked and he began to shoot his seed deep inside her. The two sensations -- the pain from her hair and, more crucially, the feeling of his warm juices exploding inside her -- pushed her over the edge and she surrendered gratefully, letting her orgasm finally race free and consume her. It was like a white blinding heat and she heard herself crying out at the intensity of it.

A few minutes later she found she was lying on her back on the bed, though she had no recollection of changing position. She felt an emptiness between her legs where Steven had been. He was now lying beside her, looking at her intently. He was stroking her cheek, and this small, thoughtful act of kindness made her feel a little tearful.

"Well," he said. "Welcome back."

She smiled at him. She reached up and wrapped her hand around his, dragging it from her cheek to her mouth so she could kiss his fingers

"Oh god," she said. "That was... amazing. I wish... I wish I'd met you years ago."

He shook his hand. "No. You wouldn't have been ready."

She thought about this, and knew he was right. Of course he was.

"They'll be wondering where we are. Back at the office, I mean."

"Yes. They will." He seemed unconcerned. She wondered again how many times he'd done this. From now on she thought she'd look at every woman in the office differently, wondering if they'd succumbed to his charms as easily as she had. He could have any woman he wanted, she thought. If he decided to have a woman, there'd be nothing she could do about it. The thought pleased her. He had chosen her, and she was with him now. That was enough. More than enough.

"Can we... meet again tomorrow?" She was already starting to feel vaguely panicky that this was a one-time only arrangement.

"No," he said, and paused. Her heart sank. Here it comes, she thought. This is where he discards me like an old tissue.

"We'll meet this evening. I'm going to stay here. I have my laptop, and I'll work here. You can come back here when you finish for the day."

Even as her heart soared her mind worked overtime. She shouldn't, she couldn't...

"This evening? But I have to go home... I have to make dinner.... they're expecting me."

He shrugged. "Tell them you have to work late. But be here. No later than six. Tell them you'll be home by... nine-thirty or so. I'm sure they can order out."

God! That would mean two, nearly three hours together. Her mind reeled at the idea of it. All that time with him. And all the while her husband would be watching television while he ate his delivery pizza. Watching television and eating pizza while she was a shameless slut in this room. God knows what he'd make her do. Suck him, certainly. She ached to have him in her mouth. Perhaps anal? She'd only done that a few times and had never much liked it, but if Steven wanted it that would be fine with her. More than fine.

"Yes," she said. "I'll sort something out."

He nodded absent-mindedly, as if his mind had already moved on.

"I'll get dressed," she said.

"Just before you do, I need to take some photographs."

"Photographs... of me?"

"Yes."

She felt her face going red.

"What for?"

"For my collection. And... you never know when they might be fun to look at."

"Would they just be... for us?"

God, that sounded so presumptuous. "Us"! As if there was an "us" yet, she thought.

He looked at her steadily. "They'll be mine, to use as I see fit."

He got up and went over to the table where he'd left his phone. For the next few minutes he photographed her, getting her to go back on her knees as she had been at the start, then on her back with her legs spread wide. Then one against the window, still naked, her ass pressed up against the cool panes of glass, one hand touching herself between her legs. She thought of people on the street below, looking up, seeing her masturbating five storeys above them.

"Very good," he said finally. "You can get dressed now."

When she left he was on the phone, ordering some room service for a late lunch. She realised she was ravenous herself. On the way back she stopped at a sandwich shop and got herself a chicken and avocado sandwich. Normally she tried to avoid white bread, but today she decided to treat herself. I've earned it, she thought.

She entered her office building and stood waiting for the lift. She checked her watch. Was it really only ninety minutes ago that she'd stood in the hotel waiting impatiently for that other lift? And now her whole life was different.

"You look very pleased with yourself, Alison."

It was Ruth, a secretary who worked on her floor who she occasionally chatted to.

"Yes," said Alison. "Sometimes you just have a nice day, you know?"

Ruth gave her a knowing glance. "I think somebody had themselves a pretty good Valentine's Day! Maybe some flowers, bottle of wine..." She giggled, and left it hanging as to what else Alison might have enjoyed.

"Yes," Alison said. "Something like that."

**

That evening she'd returned home feeling utterly drained and more than a little tender. She had never known a man with as much self-control as Steven. He had fucked her almost continuously for an hour and a half in that same hotel room, keeping her on the edge of orgasm for the first hour before relenting, and then triggering a whole sequence of orgasms that hd almost made her cry with their intensity. Then, when she had been lying gasping for breath at the end of that, he had made her take him in her mouth and stroke him to his climax. This she had done willingly and enthusiastically, sucking him with a fervour and abandon that she'd not experienced in years.

He's unlocked my inner slut, she thought to herself. How the fuck did he know it was there?

Afterwards he had quietly told her that she should shower before going home, but she was not to brush her teeth. She understood. He wanted the taste of him to stay in her mouth. That was fine by her. She wanted to keep it for as long as possible.

Lewis was sitting at the counter in the kitchen, staring at some work papers. He smiled at her when she came in and she smiled back.

"Tough day?"

"Not too bad. Just a lot to get through. We're so busy at the moment."

"There's some pizza left. A veggie one for you."

"Thanks," she said, and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

My lover's cum is still my mouth, she thought, and I've just kissed my husband. I'm a terrible, terrible person.

She resolved then that this was something that Lewis would never know about. That would be too cruel, like kicking a puppy. What she had with Steven was something that existed for another version of her, the person that only existed and came alive when she was outside of these walls.

Yes, that seemed like a good compromise. As long as she kept her family together and safe and completely unaware, then she would be free to indulge herself as she liked whenever she left the house. That would have to do. Because to give up either of those two selves would be unthinkable. She loved her family. She had worked hard to build this home. But now she had discovered this other self she knew that she could never deny that part of her either. She would have to zig zag carefully between good Alison and evil Alison... no, not evil, that was the wrong word... liberated Alison.

The choice of word amused her. What was 'liberated' about eagerly begging a man to give her his cum to drink? Following the commands of a man who'd asked her to expose herself in her own office to him? Even the memory of that made her nipples stiffen, as if remembering the cool air on them as he'd stared at her.

She remembered something she'd read in an article years ago. It had been an interview with an escort who'd specialised in S&M. She'd said her regular customers were all senior, successful men who paid her to treat them like shit. They'd crawl around on the floor, on leashes sometimes, content to be told what to do by her, grateful for any attention she'd give them, even if it was just scorn and abuse. She'd said that it was almost as if they needed to go to the opposite extreme -- from total control to a total lack of it. She'd been shocked by the article, but now it started to make a little sense. What she had with Steven wasn't exactly like that, but there were echoes. To surrender completely to him, to leave all the decision making to him, to be utterly under his control... it was wonderfully and strangely relaxing.

She'd spent years being the rock of the family. Always the sensible one, the one who drove the kids from A to B and back again while still preparing the meals and making sure the clothes were clean and ironed. Lewis worked hard but he seemed to regard that as the end of his contribution. She was always the one to make sure everything held together. And with Steven, she could be completely free of all of that. It was almost like a kind of therapy, she told herself.

She looked at herself in the mirror of the bathroom. Or maybe you're just a slut who likes lots of rough sex, she thought. And what's wrong with that?

She washed her face, but she didn't brush her teeth.

**

And now, lying on the bed in the hotel room, she could hardly believe it had only been three months since it had all started. Her life before she'd met him seemed alien and distant, like something glimpsed in an old photograph album but increasingly hard to remember.

They met at least two or three times a week. Usually the same hotel. Lewis had become used to her "working late" at least once a week. If he suspected anything he hid it well, though she doubted he did. He'd said a few times that he was concerned that she was working too hard, and that she'd lost a bit of weight. She'd reassured him she felt fine and he shouldn't worry. She omitted to mention that at least part of her weight loss was down to marathon sex sessions with her lover several times a week.

She checked her watch. It was a few minutes after six. He was a little late, but of course she wouldn't complain when he arrived. She'd just be glad to see him. Even now, she could feel her dampness through her underwear.

She heard soft footsteps in the corridor outside and her breathing quickened. In just a few moments he'll be here, she thought. And if I'm lucky, in ten minutes his cock will be deep inside me.

Then she heard voices as well, one of them definitely low and soft and female, and her spirits sank. It wasn't him. But the footsteps stopped outside the door of the room, and she heard the scrape of the entry card in the lock. The door opened, and there was Steven. And behind him, smiling in a friendly way, was a very elegant young blonde woman, probably in her mid to late twenties.

"Alison," said Steven, ushering the woman forward. "I'd like you to meet Yvonne."