The EMT Ch. 18

The standing man now reached down and his fingers touched and played with the knot at the waist of his dhoti. Suzanne watched in awe as he untied the knot and unwrapped the skirt, to stand naked a few feet from her. As he started to fold the several meters of material that comprised the dhoti, his friend also stood, dried and stripped himself.

The first man now hung his skirt over a single hook on the wall, and the other stepped naked towards the cubicle door behind which Suzanne was hiding. At first she thought he was coming to use the toilet, but as he got near, he simply flung his dhoti over the top of the door, to leave it hanging there in the absence of any other peg to use.

Suzanne now watched as the two men continued to wash. Unable to escape, she found herself also unable to move her eye away from the slender gap, and she watched the men guiltily.

Their thin lean bodies were obviously hard from manual labour, whilst their cocks hung softly and heavily between their legs. The men were both uncircumcised, and their heavy foreskins hid the bulbous head of their penises, whilst at the same time exaggerating its girth. The contrast between slender lean body and the rather generous cock that they each had been blessed with was striking. They appeared entirely at ease in each other's naked presence and stood facing each other and chattering as they each washed themselves, again dipping the flannel under the tap and then using it to rub the dust vigorously from their dark and dirty skin.

After washing their chests and bellies, one man handed his flannel to his friend, and turned away from him, presenting his back. The friend threw his own cloth into the sink before wetting the cloth he had been given, and stepped closer to the other man and started to wash his back for him. As he rubbed the cloth across the other's back, his body shook and his cock swayed from side to side, close to the naked arse of the guy being scrubbed.

When he was finished, they swapped positions and cloths and returned the favour. All the time, Suzanne watched this intimate little tableaux with a mixture of guilt and fascination.

Next, they retrieved their own cloths and went to work on their own middle section, washing their own bum and groin area. Suzanne's mouth opened when she saw one of the men, whilst washing his cock with the cloth, peel back his own foreskin and wash carefully both the head and under the loose sheath of skin.

As they finished their routine by bending to wash their legs, from the thighs down to their feet, Suzanne had the dubious pleasure of seeing one of the men bend away from her, his legs straight, and his puckered asshole almost winking at her as he lathed at his calves and shins. Suzanne was both embarrassed and excited at secretly witnessing such an intimate and personal scene.

Finally, they were finished, and each retrieved their own dhoti, wrapping it quickly around themselves and knotting it at the waist with expert and practiced hands. Picking up their flannels, they padded barefoot out of the bathroom, and continued chatting between them as they departed down the corridor towards a room they shared between themselves and two other men who were now working the 12 hour midnight-to-noon shift on the same building site that they had recently left.

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Suzanne took a number of deep breaths when they had departed, and turned and leant back against the cubicle door. She was flushed with both embarrassment and arousal at her voyeurism and because throughout, she had been tense at the prospect of being discovered. She closed her eyes and forced herself to relax whilst saying thanks for her narrow escape.

As she stood in that cubicle, her breathing returning to normal, an unexpected thing happened to her.

She had a sudden and startling insight, an epiphany if you like. Whether it was the turmoil of emotional stress that she had gone through in the last 24 hours, or a continuation of her earlier recognition that she was being punished because she deserved to be, or whether it was somehow triggered by the scene she had just witnessed, she couldn't say. But she suddenly knew that she could not only survive Graham's punishment, but that she would welcome it. She was suddenly acutely aware that to get through this it was necessary for her to do more than suffer. It was essential for her to accept it, to desire it, to relish and savour it.

She could not have put this into words, and she had no idea where it came from, but she knew what this feeling inside her was saying to her. It was demanding that she should not only comply with, but must exceed Graham's expectations, that she must absolve her own guilt and fully recognise her own position; as an object that he controlled, as a willing slave who danced to his tune, one who could only obey and seek to please and gratify her Master.

Almost in a flash, her path was made clear to her. She exited the cubicle and headed straight back to her cell / room.

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Back in the room, Suzanne wasted no time. She locked the door and then shook the dirty sheets to cover the bed as best she could. She plumped the pillows. She stripped off her tee shirt and kicked off the slippers and stood nude at the side of the bed. Without bothering to remove the make-up she had worn all evening, she climbed naked onto the bed and lay prostrate, first on her front like a penitent nun, trying to make every part of her body contact the filthy sheets, smelling the malodorous scent of the previous occupant, her skin crawling with the alien thought of what she was doing, but her head convincing her that this was right. Graham had ordered her to do this, so she must do it. It was out of her control. It was something that she had no ability to change. If this was what Graham wanted, she would do it willingly and more.

Her cheek itched where it was in contact with the used pillow, so she forced her head further into the thin and meagre cushion. Then she turned her face, wiping it across the surface of the pillow and burying her head face down, so that her mouth and nose and eyes were in full contact with it. She could hardly breathe, but forced herself to remain in this position. She let her lips part and extended her tongue to lick and taste the soiled cloth. When she could hold her breath no longer, she reluctantly turned her head again so that her other cheek could experience the full magnitude of the contact with the pillow, and she rubbed her head against it as she took huge breaths to replace the oxygen that had been starved by her voluntary suffocation.

Still face-down, she spread her arms and legs so that she looked like she was hanging on to the bed as though she would fly off if she let go.

Her back was screaming for attention, so she rolled over onto it, re-spreading her arms and legs again and lying in a crucified position, and pressing the back of her head down so that her blonde hair would be in full contact.

The equally dirty top sheet was crumpled at her feet, and she quickly leaned forwards and pulled it up over herself, pulling it against her naked flesh in order to maximise her connection with it. And then she opened her mouth wide and pulled it over her head, breathing through the threadbare sheet and smelling its essence. She shook her head and reached over the top of the sheet to press it against her with her hands, to revel in her contact with that which she had previously dreaded.

And all the time, Graham was in her mind. It was Graham that she wanted to please with her full and abandoned obedience to his orders.

Her hands started to wander, feeling her taut stomach through the thin sheet that covered her, tucking it into her sides and smoothing it across her hips, and then wandering up her torso to caress her own breasts through the thin cloth. She was surprised to find that her nipples were erect, despite the itching and crawling that her skin was experiencing. She recognised that her actions were an act of outright submission to her Master; a surrendering of herself to Him, a personal sacrifice that she was making, and that he may never know about.

But she knew!

She opened her legs further as her hands continued to caress her tits and squeeze at her nipples. She wanted to do more. She wanted to do anything that would reinforce this quiet demonstration of her love for, and submission to, the man that now owned her. She knew that she would do everything in her power to prevent any repetition of the disappointment that she had caused him by her selfish behaviour. She was wet.

Slowly, the scent of her own sex gained prominence over the smell that had been left by the stranger, the previous occupant. She became more aware of her own arousal, and her hands slid down to between her legs, where she pressed the dirty sheet against her soaking cunt, adding her own essence and aromas to those left by the stranger.

Her fingers pressed at her lips and pinched the little nub of her clit. Images of the migrant workers filled her mind. She saw them naked again in her mind's eye, watched one of them peel back the sheath of his foreskin and rub the bulbous head of his cock with the flannel. In her imagination, the head had grown to many times its real size. Her hands slipped beneath the sheet and between her legs, her fingers pulling apart her lips, feeling the remaining wetness, the back of one hand aware of the wetness that she had left on the sheet by pressing it to herself.

Again and again, she saw the worker pulling back his loose skin, exposing the head of his cock, inches from her face. She wished he had discovered her and made her clean it with her mouth and with her tongue. She wanted to do just that. She wondered if Graham would want her to do that. If Graham wanted her to, she would do anything, anything that he demanded of her, no matter how demeaning, no matter how degrading. In this deeply submissive mind frame she wondered what might be the very worst, the very best thing that Graham could demand of her.

She saw the worker bend over in front of her, the ring of his anus exposed, and she wanted to lick it and probe it with her tongue. She wanted to be made clean his arse and bury her face between his cheeks. As she imagined doing it, as she wanted to do it, her fingers slipped inside of herself, and then out, glistening with her own juices, and she reached those fingers around behind her and let them play with her own anus.

Her moistened finger slipped past her sphincter, inserted to the first knuckle and was then joined by another. Her other hand slid down and she simultaneously rubbed at her cunt and her clit. The fingers in her arse probed deeper. As she imagined again, kneeling behind the worker as he bent over in front of her, she imagined Graham ordering her to clean his arse with her tongue. Graham standing beside them and demanding that she lean forwards, licking up his dirty crack, across his puckered ring, probing it with her tongue, her eyes turned to Graham for his approval.

Her own fingers left her arse and she brought them to her mouth, unable to stop herself from tasting the mustiness on them, and imagining it was the mustiness of the unknown Pakistani. As her fingers found her lips, and she opened them to let the fingers slip into her mouth, she could hold back no longer and her legs clamped together, the fingers at her cunt pressed and squeezed at her mound and at her clit, and her body shook with an intense orgasm. Her back arched and her legs straightened and stiffened, lifting her back from the stinking bed.

She collapsed down again, and then was shaken by several more aftershock waves of intense pleasure. As her body slowly relaxed and her hands left her mouth, and without any kind of conscious thought, she whispered "Thank you Sir!"

She closed her eyes and pictured Graham, smiling down at her with pleasure at her submission to her, and she knew that this was her destiny. She drifted off to sleep without ever losing that picture, basking in the knowledge that she had pleased her Master.

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The next morning was a blur. Suzanne had slept surprisingly well, but had woken at about 6:30 am. In compliance with Graham's instructions, she had remained in the bed until the clock had ticked its way past 07:00 and had then risen. She felt dirty but pleased that her punishment was about to end. She made an effort to tidy up yesterday's make-up that she was still wearing, and whilst she worked on that, she wondered how the bid preparation had gone overnight. She knew from her own time in Sales that bid deadlines acted in accordance with Parkinson's Law, which states that the work expands to fill the time available. No bid manager or Sales executive worth his salt would ignore the opportunity to continue to tweak and refine his bid for an important opportunity like this one, so she was confident that Steve Cross and the local agents would have spent a large portion of the night going over and over the finer points of the Ruler Electronics bid. It also crossed her mind that since Parkinson's Law is universal, the team from WoongHongSa would have been similarly employed.

She dressed simply in jeans and tee-shirt (not the one she had used as a rug the previous evening), and packed as instructed, and at 08:00 precisely there was a knock at her door. On opening it she found the same taciturn and silent driver as had delivered her here 8 hours earlier. He was no more communicative, but did reach out for her case and room keys, and he carried them silently down the corridor as Suzanne followed meekly behind. In the lobby, he threw the keys at the same youth that had checked her in and they were soon in the car and heading back to the Jumeirah Emirates Tower, where she was immediately given the keys for the same room she had used the previous day. Five minutes later she was enjoying a quick shower, and then she was sitting at her dressing table applying fresh make-up when the doorbell chimed.

She was still dressed in the shorter of the hotel bathrobes, and pulled it tight around her as Steve Cross entered the room with a large manila envelope which contained the final version of the bid. He looked her up and down, taking in the bare legs beneath the short robe before throwing the envelope on the bed and speaking to her with a slightly sarcastic tone.

"I hope you enjoyed your night!" Suzanne wondered how much he knew about her night. Was he just referring to the dinner with Tim Truman, or did he know more? Or was he being resentful, having spent most of the night working on the bid? She didn't have time to ponder before he went on, pointing at the envelope.

"The bid is in there. I'll take you through the changes as you get ready. I understand you have an appointment with Tim to hand it over at 10:00, so we'd better get a move on!"

Suzanne wondered how he knew that but had no time to consider it, so she returned to her dressing table, and Steve sat in one of the armchairs in the room and watched her carefully as she finished her make-up, and as he talked her through the bid. They finished about the same time, and Steve excused himself to allow her to dress. His closing remark was "Good luck. We'll be in the bar here when you get back. See if you can get any idea when he will make his decision. Our flights are booked for tonight, so you have plenty of time."

As soon as he had left, Suzanne stripped off her robe and stepped into a simple summer dress that the hotel had cleaned and pressed for her whilst she was showering. The dress was crisp and white, with a large blue print of a maple-leaf, and buttoned all the way down the front. In accordance with the plan she had formed immediately after her epiphany the previous night, she wore no underwear. She stepped into her court shoes, tidied her hair one last time, picked up the manila envelope and her purse, and headed for the door.

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At exactly 10:00 Suzanne rapped at the door to Tim's suite. Reception had called ahead and the door was open. She stepped in.

The suite had been immaculately tended since, and there was no sign of the drinking bout that had taken the previous evening. Except one! Tim sat at a small round table in the window, unshaven and looking decidedly worse for wear. He was wearing a more luxuriant version of the towelling dressing gown that Suzanne had worn earlier, and with a different hotel logo over his left breast. The remains of his breakfast were laid out on the table, reminding Suzanne that she hadn't yet breakfasted this morning. Never mind! She was about to fix that.

Wordlessly, Suzanne strode over to where Tim was sitting and carefully placed the manila envelope on the corner of his table, making sure that he saw it. Then she stepped up to him and bent down to kiss him, open mouthed and with her active tongue exploring his own mouth, which had fallen open in shock and surprise at her aggressive attack. He smelled and tasted of stale alcohol and fresh orange juice, and was somewhat taken aback by this assault on his weakened senses. It was a passionate, all-out kiss and lasted several seconds.

When it finished and Suzanne stood back up straight, still without a word being spoken, her hands reached up and started to undo the buttons on her dress. When they were all undone, she simply opened the front of the dress and peeled it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor behind her. She stood, stark naked except for her shoes, in front of Tim, her hands on her hips. Then she sank to her knees, parting his bathrobe as she went, and spreading his knees to allow her to crawl between them. His still soft and flaccid cock hung between his legs, and Suzanne immediately leant forward and took it into her mouth. With surprising speed, it started to harden.

Suzanne worked on that cock, licking its length, licking the balls beneath, rubbing its growing length across her face and repeatedly taking it into her mouth, and to the back of her mouth. Tim shuffled forwards on the chair he was sitting on to make it easier for her, and he reached out to grab at one of her tits, mauling it and pinching the nipple. She moved slightly to present it to him for easier access and between taking him in her mouth and licking at his cock, moaned a few words to him.

"Oh yes please! More of that."

He was now fully hard and she engulfed him again until the head of his cock was pressing at the opening of her throat. There were still 2 or 3 inches of shaft left that was not in her mouth. With her eyes turned up to look at him, she reached for his other hand and moved it to rest on the back of her head, signalling with her eyes what she wanted him to do.

He pressed down hard on her head and felt the head of his cock start to enter into the tight passage of her throat. She groaned with pleasure and stifled her gag complex, allowing the rest of his shaft to enter into her mouth, feeling her upper lip coming into contact with his pubic hair, and feeling the first couple of inches of his now rampant cock going down her gullet. She let him rest there and enjoy the spectacular sensation for as long as she could, before pulling away and catching her breath. While she gulped in air, and swallowed drool, she pressed his hand harder against her breast, encouraging him to further abuse her nipple. He was happy to oblige.

She took him back into her mouth and encouraged him to force himself again into her throat. It was as if she couldn't get enough of his cock, and she started to bob her head up and down in his lap, breathing through her nose in between taking him deep into her throat and preventing her breathing again for a few strokes. They soon set up a steady rhythm.

After several minutes of this mind-blowing oral treat for Tim, Suzanne pulled her head from his lap and stood before him. She then turned with her back to him, opened her legs and squatted down on his lap, guiding his cock into her. She was well lubricated and he slid in easily. Bouncing up and down on his cock, his full length sliding in and out on each stroke was not enough for her. After setting up a new rhythm, she reached behind her with both hands to find his, and pulled his hands around her and onto her tits.