Who's on Top? A Twisted Romance Ch. 03

"Bull. Shit."

"I swear I took everything out of the bag. I looked through all the little pockets. I was surprised they weren't there, so I checked three times. You did insist on packing everything yourself." I stared her down like a suspicious FBI agent interrogating a suspect. "They could be in the car," she said. "I'll be happy to go look." She took a step toward the door, as if she meant to go right then, in all her jiggling-ass, bouncing-boobs, pink-fleshed naked glory.

I grabbed her arm roughly and said, "Forget it," even though I really did think I'd brought them. "Hands out," I ordered. She held up her arms, unsure. "Palms up, elbows bent."

I hoisted the tray of food from the cart and set it onto her upturned palms. She grimaced as the weight settled but held it steady. A variety of goodies filled it from side to side. Charcuterie, fruit, breads, colored liquids in glasses and cups large and small. The smells were almost as luscious as the woman holding them.

She looked at it. "Thank you, sir," she said. "I've been feeling hungry."

My disdainful stare let her know how little I thought of her pathetic attempt to take charge of the situation. I plucked an olive out of a bowl of brine and popped it into my mouth. Then I took a cantaloupe ball in my fingers and held it to her mouth. She opened her lips to receive the gift. I withdrew the treat, laid it on my own tongue, and chewed.

"Later," I said. Then I placed my own hands under hers and slowly lifted, drawing her hands and arms straight up. The tray teetered. Glasses jangled. "Nothing can fall off this tray," I said, sternly. "Hold it steady, or the consequences will be severe."

"Yes, sir," she said, then swallowed.

By the time I was done lifting, the tray sat on her fully upstretched arms, resting on palms bent back at ninety degrees.

"It's heavy, sir."

"Is that a complaint?"

"No, sir. I'm only sharing relevant information."

Her body was tense, torso angled slightly back to support the weight and keep the tray even. Her breasts formed perfect cones, capped by stiff nipples pointing in a way I found delicious. So, naturally, I suckled them. I swirled my wet tongue around each in turn, then opened my mouth wide and took in a mouthful of her left boob. I sucked hard. The way she likes it. Then I did the right one. She whimpered and sighed, but the tray didn't budge.

I stepped back to let her catch her breath. Small beads of sweat popped out all over her body. Her eyes betrayed doubt she could hold out much longer. "So, you went down just now to sign a paper. For Javier. Is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

"What name did you use?"

The question seemed to surprise her. "My own."

"Well, you fucked up royally. I booked this place under fake name so nobody could find us. I prepaid everything in cash. Now we can be traced."

"I... I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"We'll have to take drastic measures."

She put on a good show of struggling over what to say next. "No, we don't," she spit out finally, her face twisted with inner conflict. "I... I ... didn't really sign anything."

"What?" I said, sounding incredulous. "You lied?" I said, fearing I was overplaying it.

Even if I was, she stayed right on track. "Yes, sir. I'm sorry," she said, sounding scared, tearful. "I was afraid to tell you what I really did for the room."

I paused to appreciate how mind-blowingly fucking good she was at this game. Then I placed a finger on her lips. "Lemme guess. You fucked him."

Her eyes widened. She wanted to speak, but I held her lips closed. After a beat, I lifted my finger. "No, sir," she hissed immediately. "That's your pussy. Nobody else gets in there."

I looked at her skeptically as I slid my hand down her taut stomach and slipped two fingers into between her legs. I pushed them inside her and rubbed them around. She made the funniest sound in her throat as she struggled not to drop the tray. I pulled out my fingers and brought them to my face for a closer look. "I don't see his cum in you."

Her expression turned to pleading. "Of course not, sir. It's your pussy. How many times can I tell you?"

I dropped to my knees, bringing my mouth level with her cunt. "Widen your feet."

Slowly, deliberately, torturously, she edged her feet apart, toes then heels, then toes again, gasping when the tray threatened to topple. She steadied it with all her strength and concentration, whimpering aloud.

"Quiet," I said. Then I slid my tongue between her legs and across her labia. I started gently, but the more I licked the wetter she got, so the further I penetrated. I alternated licking and sucking on her clit, now firm as a hard cock and damn near as big, until she couldn't keep quiet. Her moans filled the room.

"I'm going to cum, sir," she cried. "Oh, shit, shit. I'm gonna..."

Just as abruptly as I'd started, I leaned back and stood up. She gasped a desperate, "No."

She trembled from the denied orgasm and the strain of the heavy tray she held high. The beads of sweat had spread into a fine sheen up and down her quivering body. It rolled down her forehead, forcing her to blink the salty drops away in pain and anger. Her feet dug into the carpet to keep her upright, the red polish disappearing into the gray pile, the knuckles of her toes turning white.

I wanted to applaud, but inside I knew the way to honor her commitment was to charge ahead, just like her. I prepared myself so my voice would come out calm, casual, cold. "It doesn't taste like he's fucked you, either. Good girl." I walked behind her, out of her sight.

Her ragged breathing betrayed her effort to keep steady. "I'm glad you see that, sir," she said when she was able. Then she let out a quiet grunt of distress. She gulped another breath and went on, "Now could we please...."

Whether she heard the loud smack first, or felt the hard slap before the noise reached her ears, she definitely stopped talking. I'd taken up the paddle behind her. Now I spanked her repeatedly, alternating left and right butt cheeks until both glowed red. Her muscles tensed and the tray rattled and shook. She made noises like she was being strangled.

I'd pushed her to an extreme we hadn't reached before. Worried she wanted to use her safe word but couldn't get it out, I paused to let her recover. She closed her eyes until her breath achieved a semblance of normalcy. When she opened them, I stood before her, watching and waiting. The next move was hers.

No "pineapple." Not even a whimper. Just a defiant gaze, daring me to go further.

Holy fuck.

My own hormones and nerves were rocking out like drugged-up teenagers at a midnight rave. I struggled to gather my thoughts. "So, let's keep track," I said, raising my fingers to count the facts. "No signature. No fucking. What did you give Javier from Colombia in exchange for this beautiful room?"

She spoke through gritted teeth. "Let me put down the tray, and I'll tell you." She took another breath, then added, "Sir" in a tone of voice that would've been more appropriate for calling me, "Motherfucker."

I stepped behind her. I growled the next thing in a voice I didn't know I had in me and paired each word with a trembling blow across her ass.

"THIS. IS. NOT. A. FUCKING. NEGOTIATION."

The paddle I'd chosen had a series of small, pointy bumps -- we called it the spikey baby -- so the pain level was high, especially when I smacked her ass as hard as I did. She had begun sobbing, and it wasn't an act. Jesus. My stomach clutched. But as long as she wasn't using the safe word, it wasn't up to me. I had to keep going.

She regained her composure enough to speak and said, in the tiniest voice I'd ever heard come out of her, "I sucked him off." Her nose was running, so she snorted as she let her statement sink in. "Sir."

I stared at her with mouth open, unsure where to turn. What she'd told me might be the real story. I mean, let's face it. This room had to be a grand-a-night upgrade, and he didn't seem particularly generous. And it wasn't like I was the only guy she'd ever given head. Didn't I even joke the first time she went down on me about thanking the guys she'd blown before?

Her tears started to flow again, harder than ever. I began to perceive that, however powerful her commitment or fierce her determination, she could've collapsed onto the floor in a heap at any moment. She'd leapt off the cliff and it was my job to catch her. Not to mention the fact that I wanted to hear the next part, whether truth or fiction.

Taking the weight of the tray onto my hands, I nodded to her. She relaxed her arms and lowered them slowly with an agonized groan. I'd actually forgotten how heavy the damned thing was during our little vignette and felt doubly impressed she'd made it.

I settled the tray onto the cart and looked her up and down. She appeared truly broken, rubbing her aching arms, curving her shoulders in as if wanting to disappear, letting tears of release stream down her cheeks. I sat on the bed, silently. She looked at me, questioning. I nodded. She took it as an invitation and made to sit beside me, but I said, "Over my knee." Fuck, I sounded mean. Who was this guy? She hesitated a moment, so I added, "Cocksucker."

I might as well have slapped her. Tears flowed so heavily I worried she'd dehydrate, but she obediently draped herself face down over my knees, ass delectably up. I waited while sobs wracked her body for a minute or so, feeling her breasts bouncing against my knee as the bawling made her jerk spasmodically.

"Calm down," I said, my tone more firm than kind. "Tell me what you did."

She struggled to speak through the weeping. She explained how she'd flirted with the guy just like she'd said she'd have to. She'd gotten him to tell her about the best room in the place and asked, wide-eyed, what it cost. When he told her, she'd acted like she'd never heard a number that big, not for a hotel room, anyway. (I had a hard time picturing her coming across as naïve, but then I remembered that, standing there barefoot and blue-jeaned, her perky breasts jiggling freely in the ratty band shirt, she could've easily passed for nineteen.)

She'd told Javier that her partner really, really wanted a better room. She didn't have any money, but she'd do just about anything. A couple other guests were waiting, so he asked her to stand aside. When they were alone again, he'd assured her she'd be surprised how many women came in with that same question. His usual arrangement was to, in his words, "service them" in the suite then to let them use it with their husbands. He'd support any story they chose, from claiming they won a drawing to getting an upgrade with some kind of points. She said she'd listened with rapt attention but told him her pussy belonged to her partner.

I hung breathlessly on every word but feigned indifference. "So what'd you do?"

"Well, sir," she said, her tears subsiding. "You never take the first offer in a negotiation. We went back and forth a few times. He'd take little breaks to answer the phone or help other people. Then he'd come back until we landed on something mutually agreeable."

"Namely?"

"Remember, I didn't say it's what I wanted. Just the deal I could make."

I smacked her ass with the paddle. Not more than a love tap, but her ass was so sore from earlier, she yelped.

"Don't patronize me," I said, scolding. "What was the deal?"

"He told me he had a break coming up and he'd meet me in the room for a blow job. I agreed to the oral but said my partner would be in the suite. He said we could use a staff room."

"So, you told him you'd leave me up here so you could go downstairs and go down on him?" I paused to appreciate my little pun. "May I assume you swallowed his load? That it's sloshing around in your belly right now along with mine?"

Now the waterworks began again in earnest. I could hear it, though I couldn't see her face where it dangled down over my knee. "Yes, sir. I wanted this room. For us. For you. I figured I'd suck him off for a few minutes and I'd fuck your brains out in this beautiful room all weekend." Sobs interrupted her, but she finally added, "I'm so goddamned ashamed." Then she let loose a wail, and I felt her tears dripping onto my feet.

I smacked her ass again, saying, "Language."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"We'll calculate the punishment with all the rest," I said. She waited to hear more, tears continuing to flow quietly. Truth is, I was buying time. The game seemed to be getting out of hand. She'd just sucked off another guy. A stranger. Paid for the room with sex. Only oral, but still. I had to ask myself if it was time to call the whole thing off. A voice in my head reminded me it wasn't entirely my choice.

My biggest surprise was realizing that the feelings churning in my guts when I heard about her sexcapade weren't entirely bad. Quite the opposite. Her story turned me on. I decided to keep that little epiphany to myself.

"Getting us the room was a good thing," I said calmly. "You should be rewarded for that." She made a happy sound. "However -- sucking the dick of a guy who wasn't me, some dude you'd just met -- giving head as transactional sex, no less -- what would you call that?"

She thought about it for a second, then offered, "Slutty?"

"How many strokes do you think you deserve, all told?"

Again, she pondered. "I'd say twelve, sir."

"Are you negotiating? Saying twelve because you want ten? I could say twenty."

"No, sir. I think twelve is right. Especially because -- did you notice I put out my wooden hairbrush next to the paddle?"

I reached over and picked it up. "This?" The heavy handle looked sinister.

"Yes, sir. If you use that, I'll feel it even more than the spikes."

Even though she was the sub, she was taking the lead. And the place she was leading us was dark and exciting.

"Are you ready?" I asked, my tone not unkind.

She took a breath. "Yes, sir. Thank you for asking."

I brought the brush down on her ass, heard the crack, and saw the shudder run though her body. I hadn't asked for it, but she counted "One" out loud. With every blow she found it harder to speak but never missed a beat. By nine, voices in my head screamed for me to stop. She must've sensed that, because when I hesitated, she wiggled her ass to egg me on. By twelve, her butt cheeks had progressed through glowing red to darkening into a bruise.

She hung there, limp. After a minute, she said something I could barely hear. I asked her to repeat it.

"Thank you, sir."

I took her by the shoulders and pulled her rag-doll body fully onto the bed. "Wait here," I whispered in her ear (as if she could move) and ran into the bathroom for the premium lotion the hotel put out for guests. I spent a good ten minutes smearing the cream over her ass, rubbing it in gently. She said nothing but eventually started purring.

"What else do you need?" I asked.

She said "water" and I ran in and filled a glass at the sink. When I came out of the bathroom, I found her standing at the foot of the bed. I have to admit I felt relieved to see she could get herself up, even if her legs trembled slightly. She took the glass and drank it down.

Then she set it on the table and turned to give me the deepest kiss of my life. I thrilled to her tongue as it explored my mouth, her breasts as they pressed against me, her nipples poking me and her pussy rubbing against my crotch. My cock sprang to life. She spread her thighs, and it leaped between them. She squeezed them together. I started thrusting my hips. I wasn't inside her, but my cock slid easily and pleasurably in her moist flesh.

She eased her legs apart, and I glided into her wet tunnel. "That feels good," she whispered. We fucked standing up for several minutes. She let her weight bear down on my cock, which felt great for me and had to give traction against her clit.

Without warning, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around my torso. I felt the squeeze of her thighs as she locked her feet together behind my back. I grabbed her ass for support. Her butt was sensitive enough to make her cry out, but she was way beyond my being able to distinguish between sounds of pain and pleasure. She used her arms on my shoulders for leverage to bounce on my cock.

It was so hard I felt sure it could've held her up without help. The noises she made as she pistoned up and down were erotic beyond anything I'd ever heard in real life, porn, or fantasy.

"You're hitting places I've never felt you," she said urgently.

It felt incredible for me, too, as my cock head stabbed pussy walls that felt like saturated sponges or thick pillows. "Maybe we'll find the holy grail," I said.

"Jesus, wouldn't that be sweet?" she said, panting.

I should explain that "holy grail" was our joking name for the female G spot. I'd made her come in many ways and positions with my tongue, fingers, and toys, alone or in combinations. But she'd never climaxed from thrusting alone. Always ones to do our research, we'd read how, even though movies and books routinely portray women coming from intercourse, most women can't do it. Studies report percentages from as low as five percent up to a high of thirty percent of women are able to get the stimulation they need that way. The easy orgasm on the guy's dick is a male-centric fantasy.

Medical researchers who study orgasms -- which sounds like a great career, I gotta say -- attest that the elusive, possibly mythical G spot seems to be the key to making it possible. Some doctors claim that, rather than being fixed in the female anatomy, it's part of a network of nerve endings from the clitoris and can pop up randomly in different vaginas. We hadn't found hers yet but were having the time of our lives looking. Nothing wrong with tongues, fingers, and toys, but wouldn't it be fun to get off like they do in the movies?

I danced around the room with her impaled on my cock, pressing her ass against the window as I thrust into her, then moving in front of a wall mirror where I got a great view of her sweet butt sliding up and down on my shaft. At last, I dropped her onto the bed. She rolled onto her side, clutching her palm to cradle her overstimulated pussy. I cuddled behind her and began kissing her neck.

My hard cock slid up against her backside, coated thoroughly with her pussy juices. The head notched in the pucker of her anus. I held steady, overcome with the possibility of what seemed to be occurring naturally. Her ass felt as soaked with her natural lubricant as my dick. We might as well have drenched ourselves in a whole bottle of KY. She didn't move. I took that as encouragement and began to push against the sphincter. Her ass muscles twitched; I was making progress. If there was any time for us to cross this threshold, it was today.

Through barely open lips, she spit out, "Pineapple."

I swallowed hard and eased off. She reached her hand around and grabbed my cock. Then she scissored her top leg into the air and guided me into her pussy. I wrapped my arm around her stomach as I thrust into her spoon-fashion. The pleasure of shoving into her sopping and open pussy outweighed my disappointment over not being in her ass.

I slid my hand down to finger her clit as I fucked her. I found her own hand already there, busy. She cupped her fingers over mine, and for the next five minutes we rubbed her out together while we fucked. She came first, and the way her contractions massaged my dick made me erupt inside her, shooting wave after wave straight at her cervix.

We both went limp, with my cock deep inside her. I could tell from her slow breathing and my creeping lethargy we were about to fall asleep. I wanted to get something out of the way.

"So....," I started gently, not wanting to disturb the feeling. "I was wondering..."