The Last Hotel Meeting

We were meeting in a hotel again. I had finally convinced him that it would be a good idea to get a room instead of coming to my place always. I was excited. I was deciding what to wear. It was hot, I needed a little summer dress. And what lingerie? Well, he didn't care about that much anyway. Usually everything came off in one sweep. I put on a tailored dusty pink dress that hugged my figure. I picked underwear that became invisible under that dress. And no bra. I wasn't a big fan of bras anyway.

I made my way to the subway and got on the train that was just arriving. As I got closer to the hotel where he told me to meet, I got a text from him that took me out of my 30th reading of the same ad in front of me.

The text said: "Go to the reception. There will be an envelope for you. Ignore the pamphlet. Inside you will find the key to room 507. Go to the room, take off all your clothes and put on the items you find on the bed."

I wasn't going to see him when I got there? I was surprised. I thought maybe we'd get a drink at the hotel first. But I was excited. The instructions continued:

"Once you have everything on, text me that you're ready. Kneel in front of the bed, facing the door, with your legs open so I can see your pussy when I come in. You can use pillows for your knees if you want. Wait for me like that."

What?! I was getting very turned on now. It was already my stop on the subway and I had to get off. I went up the stairs and looked around trying to figure out which way to go. Midtown was not my favorite part of the city but this was close to his work and I had time. I found my way through the dirty street and walked into the hotel. I went up to the reception and asked for an envelope in my name. She looked around. "Last name?" she asked. I told her and she found the envelope easily. Under my last name. How formal.

I went up to room 507. I was nervous. What would I find? I walked in and saw neatly laid out on the white sheets a set of purple leather handcuffs and collar with a metal loop. Next to them was a black blindfold. I looked around to see where I could leave my clothes. I got completely undressed and walked over to the perfectly placed items on the bed. I was very turned on, curious and excited about exploring these items. I picked up one handcuff. It was bulky and a bit heavy. The inside was lined with a faux fur, a nice idea for comfort. I noticed the fur was quite well worn. I was clearly not the first one to put these on. Had he actually gotten them from someone else? No. They must have been used for someone else. I wondered who. Who was my predecessor? And what was that story? And why am I using someone else's handcuffs? In all the years we knew each other, we never talked about this. Well, maybe a little talk but no action. We never tried anything. He was always a bit dominant, of course, but there was not much talk about it. But clearly he had been doing this. Maybe a lot? Why did he never bring it up before?

I started putting on the handcuffs. The fur was rather itchy. Surely by now he knows my skin is very sensitive and I don't like most textures. Why did he give me these, that clearly were not intended for me in the first place? Why didn't he get me my own? Ones that were soft and not itchy? Was it too soon to invest in? Sure it was the first time we did this but we'd known each other for years. Surely for the price of a nice dinner, of which he had bought me many, I could've had my own, not some hand me downs from some other mistress. And was this someone he was still seeing? Most likely he just didn't think about it. Didn't care enough to actually think about it.

I put on the cuffs with the bulky buckles. I put on the collar. It was quite bulky around my neck. Maybe his other mistress has a longer neck that fits it better. How many others had used these before? Was I the next cheap mistress to take on the role of his sub? I put on the blindfold. It was the kind you get on airplanes in a little bag. Maybe its role was more meaningful than it seemed at first glance. I'm supposed to play blind to the situation? Be the sub in whatever capacity he wants? I took it off again. My interest in being submissive never included humiliation/degradation. I loved being tied up, objectified, but done because I am so wanted, my body worshipped, not to be treated like some cheap fuck toy. At least not from someone I knew. Probably not ever, but certainly not from someone I knew for so long and continued seeing without sex for a long time. I had cut off the sex part of our relationship but it was always lingering somehow. I knew he wanted it back but there were so many things that didn't work for me. And now he stuck around for this? His insistence to have sex again was all for this? But I would go on and be the obedient sub. Do as I'm told.

I knelt down to see what that was like. I took a pillow for my knees. He said I could. Then took another. That seemed to work. I positioned myself there and picked up my phone. I told him I was ready. I put my phone on the side table, put on the blindfold, and waited. What should I do with my hands? I put them on my thighs. I was conscious of my pussy being exposed and it turned me on. I was getting wet. Wait, did I pee? How did I forget to pee? Should I go now? No, I can't. I have to wait. I'll be okay. Or will I? I can't believe I forgot. And my pussy is feeling a cold breeze and exposed. And it's such a turn on. I'll be soaking wet by the time he comes in. Maybe I should put my hands behind my back. I reached back and felt the rail of the bed, trying not to feel cheap in the second-hand handcuffs. At least having my hands behind me kept my back straight. I listened. Was anyone coming? All I could hear was the hum of the air conditioner. I put my hands back on my thighs. I was thinking again about how exposed I was, my breasts, my pussy. He said he wanted to see my pussy when he walked in. I waited. Aware of every sound, every breeze against my skin. I was very turned on, waiting. The anticipation was getting me very wet.

Finally I heard a noise. Was it the door? Yes! Definitely the door. I sat up a little straighter. My heart started beating faster. I was all ears. I heard him come in. He stopped. I heard him moving. Was he getting undressed? He said nothing. Did I even know it was him? Of course it was him. Who else would it be? I kept listening. I felt a smile come over my lips. I was excited to... well, not see, but feel him. I waited patiently, a bit self-conscious. He came closer. I waited. I heard him opening something. Finally he spoke:

"You did exactly as you were told. Good girl."

He circled my nipple with something, something a bit hard but not too hard.

"Put my cock in your mouth."

I was happy to obey but where was his cock? I turned my head slightly and there it was. I eagerly put my lips around the familiar head. My jaw opened against the collar around my neck. I did love his cock. Loved feeling it in my mouth. Loved playing with every contour of it with my tongue. I could get so lost in exploring it... suddenly I felt a sharp slap against my nipple. I yelped a little. Now I was sure that was a riding crop. I'm sure my nipple stiffened and my pussy tingled. I took his cock just a little deeper into my mouth. Another slap on my nipple. I winced a bit. Having my nipples tortured was such an incredible turn on. I had never had my nipples slapped like this. I loved it.

He took my hands and put them behind my back and clipped the handcuffs together. There was little I could do like that. I loved giving up control to him. The entire time his cock was still in my mouth. Always in my mouth. And the collar was digging in my jaw. I wished I could have opened my mouth a bit more. He went back to slapping my nipples with the crop. I was loving every part of it. My nipples must have been standing erect and hard the whole time, I was sure of it.

"I'm going to see how wet you are. You are not allowed to come. You must ask permission first."

Of course I knew the rules. I must always ask permission to come, with his cock in my mouth, and even when he's not around. I must always ask permission. On my own, or with someone else, I needed permission. I had to text him every time to ask. My orgasms revolved around his cock, fantasies of his cock even when he wasn't present. But I loved his cock and enjoyed the fantasies. Enjoyed him being a part of my sex life even when he wasn't there. But the best by far was the reality of his cock in my mouth. And his immediate control over my orgasms and my arousal.

I felt his hand hard against my clit and against my soaking wet pussy. I focused hard on not coming. It was so easy for him to make me come, instantly, as soon as he touched me.

"You're very wet. Good girl" And suddenly I felt the crop against my pussy. Not too hard, just a tender slap. I moaned. I wanted more. The crop hit me again and in my excitement I closed my legs, wanting to keep it there, to get more.

"I didn't say you can close your legs", he said and immediately took the crop and his cock away from me. I was left alone, in the dark behind the blindfold, shocked.

"I'm sorry," I murmured. I needed all that back. I needed his cock, the crop, his touch. I needed more. He quickly gave it back to me. His cock being my anchor. I knew he was here. I could smell him. Taste him.

He started slapping my pussy with the crop again. I was getting more and more aroused. I wanted to come. I mumbled my ask for permission with his cock in my mouth.

"Yes, you may come" I was relieved to hear. His hand went to my clit again, his cock still in my mouth. I immediately felt the waves of orgasm come over me. Even as I came I longed for more touch. My body felt cold on its own. My only contact points were my mouth and pussy. As my orgasm slowed down, he pulled me up on the bed, unclipped my handcuffs and laid me on my back with my head hanging over the side of the bed.

"I need to train your throat," he said. I had been trying to get his cock down my throat but couldn't manage, the head just felt too big. This time he pushed his cock against the back of my throat as I lay with my head hanging over and his cock went right down my throat. My breathing was completely blocked and I was happy that finally he was able to fuck my throat. Before he pulled out of my throat his hand was back on my clit. Even through the hard touch I was instantly coming again, silently as I could make no sound with his cock so deep in my throat.

"Good girl," he said and turned me so my head was on the bed and my pussy towards him. I felt his fingers going inside my pussy and make me squirt, the warm fluid splashing my thighs as I came again. I groaned. He put his cock back inside my mouth, it's usual place. I sucked it longingly, wishing he would fuck me soon. Again he made me squirt and I moaned into his cock.

He then stood me up and bent me over the bed. I knew he was finally going to fuck me. I wondered if he would fuck my ass or my pussy. He always fucked my ass. His favorite. And now my ass was his exclusively; no one else would fuck me there. I was reserving it just for him. I waited with my ass and pussy exposed. Finally I felt his cock going in my pussy. I immediately came again and felt the warm fluid running down my legs. I was squirting again, so rare for being fucked. I came hard and screamed into the bed. I loved how he fucked me. His cock felt so perfect in my pussy. I could keep coming as long as he kept fucking me. Soon he pulled out and I felt his cock against my ass.

"I need to train your ass, too." Despite him fucking my ass every time he saw me, I was still very tight at first. I rather liked the pain and I liked feeling it the next day, a constant reminder of how he fucked me.

"Yessir," I replied as I tried to relax. I focused on relaxing. My hands were close to my face. The lining of the handcuffs itching my wrists. The collar itching my neck. I was sweaty by now. And so turned on by the feel of his cock against my ass. He kept pushing and finally my ass relaxed and he was able to go in easily.

"There it is," he said. And I was already coming. As soon as his cock was inside me I was coming. Every time. He could make me come so easily. And instantly. And my orgasm would just go on for as long as he fucked me. He pulled out slowly. He had hardly touched me other than fucking me but I was still coming, slowing down. He told me to wait kneeling at the side of the bed. He went to the bathroom and returned shortly and sat on the edge of the bed next to me. I knew he wanted his cock in my mouth again and I was eager for it also. I moved between his legs and searched for his cock with my mouth. I found it easily and again the collar was digging into my jaw. But I still loved his cock in my mouth and sucked it and played with my tongue all around it. I was enjoying it so and before long he was moaning and I felt his warm cum inside my mouth. I was so turned on again and made sure not a drop of his cum spilled out of my mouth. I continued to hold his cock in my mouth, as I often did. To my surprise he was soon hard again and I was excited to suck his cock again. And before long he came again. It was the first time he had come more than once and I was so happy to please him.

He pulled me up on the bed and I took off the blindfold. We lay side by side, barely touching. I was acutely aware of the lack of touch. Now and before. Besides his cock and his hand on my pussy, there was no intimate touch. I never felt his lips. Of course he wouldn't often use his lips anyway, a bit of kissing once in a while, but this time nothing at all. As much as my body was sexually satisfied, it also felt cold, alone. After a little while I asked if I could take off the handcuffs. The itchiness had intensified now that I was no longer sexually aroused.

"Oh, yes. Let me help you with that." He undid the collar. I tried asking him about them but as always, it was so difficult to get much information out of him and I was too tired to play the psychologist interrogator.

We went back to laying side by side. I made no effort to move closer. I was not making any decisions this time. The control was all his. I was submissive to him and did only what he wanted. He did not touch me. No after care. No care at all. I was realizing what I seemed to have been denying for so long: he just didn't care. No ill intent. Just a lack of caring.

I stared at the ceiling. We chatted. He went on to tell me about Japanese history while I contemplated the sprinkler system of the hotel room. Mentally, I was drifting further and further away from him. A few minutes later I was on my way home, feeling more alone than ever. As the days passed, I was starting to realize that I would not get past this. This was going to be the last hotel together.