You're My "Room Service"

You take a minute to steel your nerves before you enter the hotel. Walking in the six inch heels is very awkward and makes your feet hurt. You take each step with great care, making sure not to lose your balance. You're sure everyone is looking at you - especially for wearing a long coat in warm weather. You wonder if any of them guess how little you're wearing underneath.

You know I'm waiting for you. You square your shoulders and enter the lobby, not wanting to make me wait. You try to take long, confident strides to the elevator - but end up taking short, shy steps. You struggle to keep your coat closed with one hand, carrying the bag of restaurant carryout with the other. Your cheeks flush as you imagine everyone in the lobby must be staring at you, wondering about the awkward girl in the too-tall heels and the too-long coat.

Finally you make it to the elevator. You press the number for my floor, relieved that the elevator is empty. And then two old women force their way in. You step away to the back corner of the elevator, telling yourself it's to be respectful and make sure your elders have space. In reality, you're pressing yourself into the corner, trying to hide, desperately hoping your blush isn't too obvious.

One comments on how you must be overheating in that coat. The other scolds you for wearing such high heels, telling you that you will break your neck. You try to stammer out something respectful, trying to talk as little as possible. The floors go by agonizingly slowly until you have reached my floor and can leave the elevator.

You quickly find my room number. You stare at it, trying to double check it mentally. I didn't allow you to write down the room number. I told you that if you forgot it and went to the wrong door, that was your own fault.

You made very, very sure to memorize the number correctly.

It's the right door. There. So much for the easy part.

You look up the hotel hallway in one direction, and then down the other. Then you do it again, just to make sure. You shift the bag around awkwardly. There's nothing else you can do to delay, and you know I'm waiting. But this is going to be so embarrassing! Part of you briefly considers leaving the bag of takeout and running back to the elevator. But you can't. You've waited too long for this. I've waited too long for this. You would rather endure a hundred humiliations than disappoint me.

You slip off the overcoat. Underneath, you are wearing a very revealing French maid outfit. It's so low cut you have to double check that your nipples aren't showing. The skirt is quite short as well. If you bend forward at all your panties will be on full display.

You pull a spare bag out of the paper bag from the restaurant and quickly stuff your coat into it, along with your phone and other belongings in your coat pockets. You're trying to hurry. The sooner you can get out of this hallway, the better. Then you pick up both bags with one hand.

You stare at the door, trying to gather your courage.

You take a breath and knock on the door, calling out that it's room service.

You wait, heart hammering. Anyone could see you! This is so embarrassing.

Should you knock again? No. It's too soon. You count off three seconds. Come on, come on! You wonder what I'm waiting for. You knock again and call out "room service" again.

Down the hall, a door opens. Oh god oh god oh god. A young couple steps out, talking together and laughing.

You're about to knock on the door even more frantically, then stop yourself. The noise might draw the couple's attention. Maybe they won't notice you. Maybe they'll turn towards the elevators and never notice the scantily clad girl further along the hallway.

They see you. Oh god oh god oh god. You hear a soft gasp and a giggle. You stare at the door, trying to pretend you can't see them. Your heart is pounding so loudly you think the young couple must be able to hear it. You can't quite make out what they're saying, but you think they're exchanging guesses about why you're wearing a slutty maid uniform.

Finally the door swings open. You are overwhelmed with relief when you see me. For a moment, you were terrified that you had the wrong room.

I stand in the doorway. I slowly look you up and down. You want to rush into the room, but you wouldn't dream of trying to push past me. You lower your gaze and wait meekly.

"Come in," I tell you. You enter, setting the bag with your coat in it to the side. You breathe a sigh of relief as I shut the door.

"Set down the food for now. This filthy room needs a quick dusting first."

You meekly curtsy and utter a quiet "yes, sir," before pulling a feather duster from the bag with your coat. You walk slowly around the room in your ridiculously tall high heels. The room is spotless, but that isn't the point. You run your duster slowly along every horizontal surface you can find, and some other places besides. You make sure to bend over in an exaggerated fashion, at the waist, not the knees. You know your tiny skirt rides up and completely reveals your little white panties every time you do this. You're blushing furiously, but it strangely feels good. It makes you feel so submissive. To have clear expectations. To work to please someone else. Even - or perhaps especially - to be embarrassed for my entertainment. You're still blushing, but you know your panties are already soaked with the juices of your arousal.

"Put something on the TV."

Another soft "yes, sir," and you walk over to the TV. You almost forget to bend over and quickly correct yourself, bending far lower than you actually need to. Since you aren't actually an employee of the hotel, it takes you a moment to figure it out, but soon you are able to put on a sitcom.

"I need a table for the food."

Remembering what we discussed for this roleplay scenario, you explain that you can run downstairs and ask if you can get a folding table or TV tray for my use. I slowly shake my head. Even though you know it's just pretend, a pang goes through you - you hate seeing me disappointed. You firmly resolve to do whatever it takes to make sure I am never disappointed in you for real.

"Get on all fours in front of that chair." I point. "You will be my table."

You're prepared for this. You offer a meek apology and say that you should be getting back to your other duties. Even in pretend, you hate telling me no - but this is how I told you to behave.

"That is not acceptable. Customer satisfaction is your top priority, yes?"

You nod shyly.

"The customer is always right. I don't want to wait half an hour while you run off and may or may not come back with a table. I need a table. You are here. There's an easy fix." I say this slowly, as if you are just too stupid to understand and need it explained. I'm patronizing you. You squeeze your thighs together, embarrassed by how wet you are. "You will do this, or I will call the manager and tell them that you have offended me so gravely that I can't stay at this hotel another moment longer. Get on your hands and knees, NOW!"

It feels so right and natural to get on the floor. You probably should have tried to display a little more resistance, for the benefit of the roleplay. But you are so happy to be able to stop fake-arguing and to simply obey. Your hands and knees are on the carpet almost before you realize it. You are on the floor, where slave girls and pets belong. Where you belong. It feels so right.

"Keep your back flat, little maid," I say sternly, grabbing your hips and adjusting your position. Your skin practically tingles at the contact. You are so eager to be touched. You want to feel my strong hands all over your slutty, half-naked body. You want skin to skin contact. You want to feel a stronger partner moving you, controlling you, putting you in your place.

But you were given orders. You hold position, trying to keep your back perfectly level.

"Head down, maid! I don't want you looking around, getting distracted and being a bad table."

You stare at the floor. You hear me rustling through the bag and then you feel the styrofoam takeout container on your back. You breathe shallowly and try to hold perfectly still. You would be absolutely mortified if you were to mess up and spill my meal. You don't want to do anything to ruin this experience for me. You devote yourself to being the best table you can be.

I arrange the items on your back and take my time eating and theoretically watching TV. You suspect I am spending more time looking at you than the TV. You hope I am.

Your arms and legs are trembling by the time I clear everything off your back and put the trash back in the paper bag. "This room is poorly furnished and lacking in art," I announce. "Get up. Stand next to the lamp. Stand on one foot. Hold the palms of your hands together over your head, looking up at the ceiling. Do. Not. Move."

You don't even pretend to argue this time. You just rush to obey, although you nearly fall over as you finally get to move again. Your muscles protest and you struggle to get to your feet while wearing those six inch high heels, but you manage it. You quickly move over to the indicated spot and turn to face me. You lift your hands over your head. What was it I said? Palms together? Easy enough. You put the palms of your hands together and lift them as high as you can. Then you realize that pulls your French maid outfit up, showing off your panties to the world. It's embarrassing... but you're happy to show any part of yourself that I want to see. Then you lift one leg. You immediately put it down again, as you almost fall over. But you are determined. You WILL do this. You will not disappoint me! You carefully adjust your balance and slowly lift one ankle. Being in high heels makes this so much harder. You waver a bit, then stabilize. You did it! What was the other thing? Right, look up. You lift your face and eyes to the ceiling, holding a pose like some classical statue. You feel proud of yourself. You're happy to be my obedient, slutty decoration for as long as I wish.

Out of the corner of your eye, you think you see me using my phone. You strive to hold your position. I've told you before that I like the idea of having you be a helpless bondage decoration for hours and hours. This is nothing by comparison.

You're starting to feel a little weak. You must be strong! You will not disappoint me. You will be a good decoration!

Your leg starts trembling. You try hard to stay upright, but almost immediately lose your precarious balance and have to put your other foot down and wave your arms around, almost falling.

"I am so disappointed, little maid. Is this how they teach you to provide customer satisfaction?"

You beg me not to tell your manager that you've displeased a customer. Your eyes grow moist with real tears. You know the roleplay is fake - but the feeling of having let me down is totally real.

"I SUPPOSE I can discipline you myself instead of asking the manager to."

You nod eagerly.

"Bend over my lap, maid."

You eagerly lay yourself over my lap. You've imagined yourself in this position many times. You feel so small against me. I feel warm.

Your skirt is so ridiculously tiny that I don't even bother to pull it up. I just bring my hand down with a firm smack.

You let out a little yelp. Tsk tsk.

"Little maids should know to keep quiet. I suppose I'll have to help you with that."

You stifle a squeak as I pull your little white panties down. You move your feet to make it easier for me to take them off you. When I grab your hair tightly, you open your mouth, ready for what is to come. I shove your damp panties in your mouth as you reflect on how very, very good it feels for me to pull your hair.

I give you another hard swat and you yelp into your panty gag.

"That's better. Much quieter. Maids should be seen and not heard."

I spank you again. Then I pause and slowly run my fingertip around your pussy. You moan and try to press back against my touch, wet and eager. Then I lift my hand and give you several hard swats in rapid succession.

I continue to tease you like this for about a dozen swats, occasionally pausing to caress your needy pussy before continuing the spanking. You love every second of this. You need this every day.

"Let's see if you can be a better decoration this time," I tell you. I pull you off my lap. I tightly grip your hair and guide you over to a chair. Then I pick you up and set you on the chair upside down, your back on the seat of the chair, your head dangling off the front of the chair, your legs on the back of the chair. You obediently hold still, waiting to see what I'll do next. I take some rope and tie your arms to the arms of the chair. I tie your legs to the back of the chair. Then I sit back down, take out my laptop and... work on it? You're not sure what I'm doing. I could be writing work emails or looking at porn.

You just rest there quietly. You feel a little dizzy, your head hanging off the end of the chair. You could spit out the panty gag, but you don't dare. You are a toy. You are furniture. You are a decoration. And you want to be the best-behaved decoration I've ever seen.

It must be fifteen agonizing minutes later when I finally put away the laptop and stand up. I unzip my pants and pull out my cock.

"I am in need of relief, little maid. Let's see how good you are at customer satisfaction."

I take the panties out of your mouth and drop them on the ground. Then I immediately crouch down and press my hard cock into your mouth. You are too low to the ground for this to be anything but awkward, but you immediately fasten your lips tightly around my shaft and lick and suck like your life depends on it. You want to show me how eager you are to worship my cock. You want to demonstrate how eager you are to please, to show that I haven't made a mistake by having you serve me tonight.

"Mmm... such an eager little maid... ah... I might... tell your manager you did well." I close my eyes and enjoy the sensation. Then I straighten up, pulling my cock out of your mouth. I masturbate, aiming my cock at your chest. "Perhaps I should cum all over your tits. Then send you back through the hotel lobby, wearing just high heels and a french maid costume, with cum drying on it. Wouldn't that be amusing?"

You whimper, but don't dare protest.

Then I aim my cock back at your mouth. You eagerly open wide and I crouch down again, shooting my load into your mouth. You eagerly suck and lick, trying to take every drop.

I pull away. "Yess... good girl! I am pleased." You swallow and beam at me, thrilled by the praise.

I tuck myself away and zip up my pants. Then I pick up the room phone and pretend to press buttons. "Hello, front desk? Yes, I have a question about the maid that brought me room service. I could do with a maid at home, how much would she be? No, not for a night. Permanently." I pause. "Oh come on, she isn't that special." I pause again. "That sounds better. Yes. Charge it to my room. I'm taking ownership of her immediately. Pleasure doing business with you."

I hang up the phone and turn to you. "Looks like you're coming home with me, little maid. This is the last day you're working at this hotel."

I untie you from the chair, but almost immediately start tying you up again. I tuck your legs up to your chest, with your ankles tied to thighs, and legs tied to your torso. Your wrists are tied behind your back. I take out a large wheeled suitcase and carry your bound body over to it. Curled up, you just fit. It feels so small and closed off. It makes you feel trapped, cut off from the world.

I zip it shut, leaving a few inches open to ensure there's air flow. Then I tip the bag up onto its wheels. You manage to repress a squeal.

I extend the handle and wheel the bag out of the room, down the hall and to the elevator. There are other people in the elevator. You are only inches away from other humans, none of whom know you are practically naked and completely restrained, packed away like a souvenir in luggage. You try not to breathe too loudly or fidget, not wanting anyone in the elevator to see anything suspicious.

You are wheeled out into the lobby. You hear the noise of people moving around and talking, but can see nothing. The wheeling stops. You hear what you think is the sound of me sitting on a chair. Some time passes. You wonder what I am doing. Perhaps I'm looking around. Or am about to place an order for a beverage. Or maybe I'm reading a book on my phone. It could be anything. It isn't your place to know. You can't even move, not really. You are just a helpless toy for as long as I feel like it.

You hear conversation. It sounds like... it sounds like I'm flirting with another girl. You almost struggle against your bonds at that point, and then try to listen intently. Yes, that's definitely it! What's going on? What will happen? I'm not going to invite her up to his room, am I? What am I going to do - reveal the bound maid in the suitcase? Or keep you tied up and put away the entire time, shoved off to one corner, while listening to me being intimate with another girl? Maybe I'll leave you at the front desk, as if I were checking out before going to the airport?

It feels like forever before the conversation finally ends. The girl and I go our separate ways and I wheel you back to the elevator. You aren't sure if anyone else is in the elevator this time, but you again try to hold extra still and be extra quiet, just in case.

Finally the hotel room door shuts behind us. You're about to get out! You love being tied up, but being bound tightly in this suitcase has been uncomfortable.

You wait.

You hear me undressing.

You wait.

You hear me brushing my teeth.

You wait. You're not sure what is happening outside the suitcase, just that you are so ready to get out! But you have no say in the matter, and no way to know when I'll let you out. You just hope I haven't fallen asleep.

Then I'm tipping the suitcase onto its side, startling you into a soft cry. I unzip it, take you out of it, and then undress you. I pull your naked body onto my lap and give you a drink of water, which you swallow greedily.

I hold you close and stroke your hair. "That's the end of the roleplaying session. Good girl! I am SO proud of you. You did very well. Was it embarrassing?"

You nod shyly.

"You've made me very happy. You're a good girl." I smile and pat you on the head. "Now then... like I said, that's the end of the roleplay. But that's not the end of our play. For the rest of my stay, you are my toy. You are my property. You are an object for me to use. First off, no talking unless I give you permission. If you feel the need to speak, bow to me or pull hard on your nipple and wait to see if I give you permission. Second, I have locked away your possessions in the hotel safe... yes, including your phone, ID and clothes. I am in absolute control as long as I am here."

You take a quick look around and realize it is true. You can't see the french maid outfit or the overcoat. All you have are your high heels.

"Don't worry, I will let you wear clothes... to some extent. I have some sexy, skimpy bikinis for you to wear to the hotel pool... and all over the hotel. We'll also do some clothes shopping and get some very revealing little dresses for you to wear. But you will always be the best behaved little slave slut you can be. I will control you. I will humiliate you. I will use you for my own pleasure. I will discipline you. And I will often keep you in restraints. Perhaps I'll secretly have you wear some bondage under your clothes... or remote control sex toys. In any case, remember that you are just a toy for me to play with. You are property. Do you understand?"

You remember not to speak and nod, grinning.