Money Well Spent Ch. 02

Money well spent. That's what I always thought to myself as I closed the door on another outrageous naughty encounter. They were a treat, a wonderful indulgence that I afforded myself from time to time. But that didn't mean there weren't still wonderfully organic encounters to be had. My exploration took me on a journey one hot evening in summer.

The conference had been exhilarating; vibrant, stimulating, thought-provoking. It had centred around encouraging a sense of play in business to cultivate creativity and innovation. I was merely a participant, and I loved every second of it. Each evening I sat in my hotel room until the early hours collating and archiving every experience and learning so that I could take it back with me to implement and replicate in my own world.

It was the height of summer, and outside the temperature hovered at 28 degrees near midnight. The hum of the air conditioner helped me to grab a few scant hours of sleep between full and rich day time sessions.

I was also happy that we had been housed at one of the most stunning resorts in the state; three amazing restaurants, one gigantic pool that circled them all, and three smaller pools dotted throughout. The whole thing opened straight onto the stunning white sand beaches so renowned in this area of the world.

By the end of the three days I was exhausted but so fulfilled. I was also delighted that I had taken for myself a full additional week of annual leave before I had to head home. I collapsed after the finale dinner on the Sunday night with a contented smile on my face.

On Monday morning I bid farewell to the other participants as they finished breakfast and hustled to be on coaches and shuttles back the airport. They were dressed for transit, I was in a bikini and sarong with the airiness of one now on a much-needed break.

When breakfast was done I put myself through a workout in the gym, then hit the waves to cool off. The surf tossed and pounded me, always a welcome reminder of just where I sit in nature's order. On the way back to my room I plunged into the huge pool, swum two full circuits and ended at the swim up bar a shade short of midday and helped myself to the first cocktail of the day. With white rum and pineapple creeping to my head I drifted lazily back to my room. I had chosen a ground floor room where I could swim up to my sun deck, climb out of the pool and step into my huge bathroom.

In my room I stood under a cold shower, gasping and laughing at the shock of it. With goose pimpled skin and rock hard nipples I flopped on a bed so large I could roll over three times and still have pillow space to spare.

There is something undeniably sexy about a hotel or resort room. There is a freedom that is difficult to replicate elsewhere. It stimulates the mind. Under normal circumstances I would not have had breakfast and a gym session before diving into bed and contemplating fucking myself to orgasm, but here I was. As I considered how the rest of this day would unfold, I decided that some orgasm self-denial would be a perfect way to start my holiday; a wonderful clash of my submissive and dominant sides.

I grabbed my body lotion and spread an indulgent amount over my body. I spent a moment being grateful for my mind, easily my biggest erogenous zone, for quickly painting a mental tableau of what was about to happen. Even the thought of it had exactly the impact I wanted. I massaged the deliciously scented crème into my breasts, rubbing and kneading, offering an appreciative sound from the back of my throat.

I let my hands glide everywhere except for my nipples or between my legs, but let them wander everywhere else I loved to be touched. The nape of my neck, the sides of my tummy, the very top of my pubic mound, my inner thighs.

My arousal amped quickly, fuelled by the wonderful paradox of not touching where I longed to touch. I let my fingertips graze the crease of my groin and I shuddered. I sat up and considered my reflection in the full-length mirror opposite the bed. My skin had a wonderful glow and a delicious sheen from my moisturiser.

"You want to rub your pussy don't you, you needy slut?" I moaned aloud. Even the verbalisation of it made the need more intense.

I could see how wet I was becoming, the heat of my body quickly emulating the tropical temperature outside my room. My reflection was right, I did want to rub my pussy. I propped pillows behind my back, and when I was comfortable, I let one hand continue to caress my thigh, drifting ever closer to my tingling cunt. Then shifting slightly, I exposed my left buttock, and gave it a sharp, stinging smack.

There was an immediate red angry hand print left behind, and that turned me on. I very lightly touched my clit, already hard and throbbing by now, and earned from myself another stinging smack.

Pretence evaporated then and I deposited some of the copious amounts of slick wetness escaping my swelling lips onto my clit. Silky wet, I began to masturbate, allowing myself the pleasure of moaning and panting out loud. Every so often I landed another smarting blow on my arse, until it was pink and hot. I caught sight of myself in the mirror, two fingers noisily finger-fucking me with a thumb grinding against my clit and my behind hot and red, and I very nearly came. Just as the wave was about to crest I slipped my hand away, body flopping around on the bed in frustration and delight.

It was all I could do not to finish the job and grant myself an astonishing orgasm. Instead I returned to the shower, blasted the cold water and gasped all over again at the shock of it, this time with the added contrast of the heat emanating from my spanked bottom.

Towelled off and with my arousal only minutely deescalated, I slipped into a sarong and stepped onto my sundeck to read. I reclined on a lounge and watched people swimming by or floating together, or, in the distance, congregate around the swim-up bar.

To continue my self-imposed torture, I continued reading a lengthy piece of exceptionally well written erotica. I lay there with one piece of fabric separating me from everyone in the entire resort and resisted the urge to part my legs and resume masturbating.

The story finally concluded with the protagonists curling up in each others arms and slipping off to sleep. I rewarded myself with another cold shower and an afternoon nap that was dominated by explicitly sexual dreams.

As the sun began to set I awoke and felt rested but no less in need of release. I rang reception and ordered a hire car be waiting for me in an hour. Though the sun was slipping below the horizon, it was still balmy, and I couldn't wait to slip behind the wheel of the red convertible and feel the wind in my hair. It was already past nine o'clock.

I ate a light salad and made my way through reception. The concierge tossed me the keys as I strode past. If I hadn't missed the catch, watched the keys slide down the front steps and stopped to burst out laughing with her it would have been the perfect movie star moment. Waving goodbye I set off into the gathering night.

I found what I was looking for some forty minutes later, far away from the tropical beach and resort. I pulled into an empty car park in a deserted commercial allotment. There was a single light pole in the middle of the darkened concrete maze, and an armada of moths battled furiously in the single column of light. Every window and every concrete wall was dark and lifeless, save for one which blazed with neon, red and gold.

This was the sort of business that had no legitimate reason for being open. Anyone who found this place would either do so completely by accident or have some dark purpose. I considered my being there somewhere in the middle.

There is only one sort of store that would be open at this hour, in this neighbourhood, in this place. 'Taboos and Dark Desires' shouted the bright neon, highlighting the window display that was a very dated mannequin wearing a corset and heels and holding a faux leather flogger. I suspected this was the same visual merchandising that would have been displayed had I arrived five years earlier.

I stepped out of the shimmering heat of the concrete parking lot and into an atmosphere barely less oppressive. The hardest working air conditioner in the state appeared on the wall above the entrance to be cooling the air a full three centimetres in front of it. Beyond that, the air was not dissimilar to outside. As a tiny bell above the door sung out cheerfully, a few things happened all at once.

At the counter, the young woman huddled next to a small pedestal fan gasped, a hand which had been down behind the counter appeared on top of it, shiny, and promptly disappeared again, and a paperback novel was thrown with far too much vim such that it collected a small stand of condoms, sending them scattering across the floor.

I regarded all of this for the briefest moment, and turned away to begin looking at the wares of this fine and upstanding local small business. I heard her scurrying to return the store to the pristine state it had been in until a moment ago as I breezed through the place. After a few moments she stepped into my line of sight and cleared her throat.

"Can I help you?" she tried to ask, but for the fact that of all the moisture in her body was nowhere near her mouth at that point. Instead it came out as a half-squeak, half moan. It was adorable. She blushed furiously.

"Must be a hell of a book," I commented and she blushed even harder. I pretended not to notice.

"I want some help choosing some items," I said, my tone confident and authoritative.

"I have purchased a young man for tomorrow evening, and I want to ensure he's properly attired for the occasion," I said without looking at her. She managed to stifle a gasp rather well. She had ventured away from the minutely cooling influence of the tiny fan and was padding, barefoot, across the worn carpet.

Like all stores of its ilk, this was a hastily conceived and shoddily dressed excuse for a retail experience. Cheap hooks were attached to plaster board and large rectangles of metal grid were hung from them. From these, in turn, hung pegs that supported items of infinitely higher quality than the surroundings would have suggested. Its exactly why I had driven so far on a hot evening to the middle of nowhere.

I turned to regard the young purveyor of perv who stood, eyes slightly down, before me. Her pose instantly awoke in me the creature that sought to dominate. She was the beta to my alpha, and though barely a word had been spoken, it was like both of us instinctively assumed the roles most suited to that moment. Regardless of any further development in our interaction, as in nature, she was instantly quarry and I, the hunter.

She was diminutive in stature, with short, brown hair, soft brown skin and large, round brown eyes. She wore a simple sundress, and to my practiced eye, that was all. My developed olfactory senses could also clearly discern her arousal. I watched as a single drop of sweat traced a line down the curve of her neck and disappeared under the material of the dress.

As I watched that drop, I could feel my heartbeat raise in tempo. The now familiar sensation, a quickening, began to gather pace, sending a thrill through me. I wanted her. I would have her.

"What's your name?" I asked. Her response came barely much more than a whisper, a soft breathiness to it.

"Anaïs."

There was the sweetest tinge of an accent that I couldn't place, and her name made me smile.

"Not after the famous writer of erotica par chance?" I asked.

"Oui," came the soft, almost sigh in response. "My mother loved her words."

"I'll bet she did," I laughed, with genuine mirth. "Well Anaïs, I want to make many purchases tonight, and I'd like to get some assistance."

"Of course, what sort of evening have you planned?" Her cadence increased slightly, and there was a tinge of eagerness in her voice.

"Perhaps as I describe it to you, you can make suggestions for me," I told her, without a hint of this being a question.

"As I mentioned, I've purchased a young man for tomorrow evening. I'm going to take my pleasure in him. I enjoy taking my pleasure with men and women, and I enjoy being in charge."

As I watched she dropped her eyes to the floor, and her hands very slowly met behind her back. I could see her chest moving, and her lips, slightly parted.

"Let's start with collars, cock rings and ball gags," I told her. To her credit, and in spite of her obvious desires, she resumed the role of conscientious shop assistant rather well. As she took me to where the BDSM playthings were, I began describing how the night would unfold.

"He'll come to my room, where I will outfit him for dinner. He will strip, slowly, while I watch," I began, picking up a lovely, adjustable cock cord. It could be tightened and loosened to suit the occasion, and either slip around the base of the cock, or encircle both penis and testicles. She stood attentively beside me, and resumed the same pose she had a moment ago. The interaction was now unmistakable, and my pulse was now racing. It became hotter in the space, and a previous incarnation of me would have swooned. But this me remained in complete control of her reactions and outward appearance.

"First, I'll collar him, and he will wear this to dinner. People who see him will either question this strange accessory, or they will instantly see it for what it is."

She nodded once and picked out an exquisite piece that I hadn't initially noticed. It was remarkably elegant, and not at all bawdy or garish.

"Perfect," I smiled. I dropped the collar into a comical plastic basket that someone had thought might make the shopping experience more convenient. As we moved towards the cock ring corner (I could only assume that from its position in the store that this was what it was called. If not, then a travesty of creative opportunity had been committed), I continued my narration.

"I'll have him stroke himself for me, long slow strokes while I enjoy the steady stiffening of his cock."

My tone was conversational, as though I was describing a place setting for a dinner party. She nodded sagely, willing herself to remain the picture of calm professionalism. Which, I reflected, was rather a feat when you had a single piece of material covering your body and you clearly wanted to resume self-pleasuring. This was the love of the sport that I had developed such a taste for.

"Once he's fully erect, I'll place this around his cock and balls and pull it tight. I do so love a thick cock, straining and twitching. I may even reward him for a brief moment by dropping to my knees and taking him into my mouth. I can't wait to hear his breath hissing through his teeth while he holds his arousal in check.

Once I've indulged myself on his magnificent prick, I'll move onto his arsehole."

She gasped, and I revelled in watching her demure continence wrestle with an eagerness to hear my tale. She was doing her level best not to demand to know what was next.

"I'll turn him around, and part his cheeks, and begin to lick his anus. I know the young man in question has a healthy preoccupation with his arse, and I intend to torture him a little."

Anaïs was breathing harder now, and was leaning on a stand for balance.

"I'll make him wet and slippery, and squirm with need. I'll tease his little hole until he's struggling to stand. Butt plugs," I told her, the change of direction snapping her out of her lip biting and distant stare. She led the way to the other side of the shop, where all manner of shapes and sizes were arrayed. As the material of her dress moved, the light caught the unmissable sheen of wetness was visible. She was dripping.

"I have a preference for either glass or metal," I told her and she offered a delightful glass beginners plug. Again, it was perfect; just the right diameter to stretch him ever so slightly open during dinner. I lightly stroked her arm as I told her how impressed I was with her instincts for her product. She shivered ever so slightly.

"So, I will lather him in lubricant, cover this lovely toy the same, and then I'll take his cock into my throat again. He'll pull apart his cheeks for me, and as I choke on his cock, I'll slip this into him."

I held the plug between our eyes, so we could see each other in a tiny, inverted fisheye tableau. She dropped her gaze again, and I placed the plug in the basket. Her chest and cheeks were now a deep, dusky crimson.

"I'll take him to dinner then, and we'll have pleasant conversation while he strains to keep his raging erection in his trousers. Then I will take him back to my room, where the real fun will begin. Anaïs?" I asked, and I placed my hand under her chin, lifting her eyes to mine.

"I want you to close your eyes for a moment," I instructed. She did so instantly, and I moved my hands to rest on her shoulders.

"I want you to imagine that it is you instead of young Xavier, can you do that for me?" I asked. "I want you to really imagine it as clearly as you can, obviously replacing me sucking his cock with my tongue snaking over your tight, wet cunt."

I had moved my mouth to be near her delicate earlobes. I knew she could feel my breath across her hot skin.

"I want you to imagine me teasing and licking your delicious little anus until you want to beg me to penetrate you there."

I paused, savouring her heavy breathing and the gentle sway of her body. Her hands were clenching and unclenching involuntarily, as though desperate to be clutching at more than empty air. I guided those hands to the edge of a tasteful display of hen's party essentials and moved behind her, resuming my light touch on her shoulders.

"Are you there Anaïs?"

"Yes Mistress," she moaned.

My lips mere millimetres from her skin, and my voice barely a whisper, I continued.

"I want you to picture being in my room after dinner. I have your hard clit between my lips and I'm gently removing the plug from your eager arsehole."

She was audibly groaning with every second breath. I felt so alive. I felt powerful and commanding. I was so incredibly turned on. I had this beautiful girl a mess in my hand. I could easily have slipped my fingers into her at that point. I could have had her screaming out her climax, but such is the thrill of the game, I wanted this to last. I wanted to stretch and strain every atom of her before I gave her release. I could feel her quivering lust and desire, she was nearly vibrating with it. She wanted the release, all the more reason to deny her.

Nonetheless I dropped one hand and touched her inner thigh. At my touch she cried out, and attempted to press herself back into me. As I suspected it was slick with her arousal. I resumed whispering.

"Anaïs, you naughty girl. You're such a dirty little slut aren't you?" My words were slow and deliberate and considered, in total control now.

"You're making such a mess," I said as I traced my fingertips of the wetness on her thigh. Her knuckles were white where she gripped the edge of the display.

"You were soaked before I walked in, but now you're dripping aren't you? And you want to beg me to come, don't you?"

"Yes Mistress, please Mistress. Please fuck me and make me come Mistress! Please call me your slut and finger me Mistress!" Her whole body was shuddering with need by this time.

"Not yet sweet thing. Soon. Can you be my good girl and hold on a little longer?"

The struggle was palpable, but there was a bigger part of her that wanted to obey and possibly prolong this than wanted it to peak.

"Yes Mistress, I can Mistress," she panted.

"Good girl. Now, I want you to take three deep breaths for me. Good, that's a good girl. But even though I'm giving you a tiny reprieve, I'm not done with you yet. I want you to bring the scene to mind again. I'm swirling my tongue over your opening as I pull out the plug."