I walk into the hotel lobby at the appointed time. You are sitting as arranged by the lobby phone, dressed in a soft purple dress. I call your name, and you look up from your magazine, smile and rise to take my hand.
I hold the car door open for you to slide in, watching the lower part of your calf as your skirt catches on the car seat. When you are seated and belted, I close the door and drive to the Chinese restaurant. We chat briefly on the drive about your trip, my job, the weather, my children, the accommodations at the hotel.
When we get to the restaurant, they are relatively uncrowded and can seat us immediately at a wall bench table near the back. We look over the menus, and when the waitress arrives we order a round of egg rolls and crab puffs, and iced tea for both of us. After she leaves, we decide on our main dishes and you rustle in your purse. Finally you bring out a small paper bag and hand it to me. “Go to the men's room, dear; you'll work out what to do with this.”
A shiver runs through me, and my cock hardens in my slacks. I wonder if this is the larger buttplug you have discussed with me in our phone conversations. I take the package and find my way to the restrooms. The men's room door does not lock, but there is a handicapped stall inside which does. I open the bag to find, not the hard rubber of a plug, but the silky fabric of a pair of panties.
I look at the garment, momentarily nonplussed, then find myself becoming aroused. I unlace my shoes so I can take off my slacks and underpants, then slide the panties up my legs. They are small on me, and after trying several positions I finally settle on resting my cock in the crease between my groin and left leg, aimed upward at a slight angle. The restroom door opens, and I hold my breath until the other occupant does his business, flushes, washes and leaves. I pull my slacks up and fasten my belt. With every motion my cock shifts against its smooth cover and sends another thrill up my spine. I put my shoes on, stuff my underpants in the paper bag, and return to our table.
Our appetizers have already arrived and you have placed our orders by the time I arrive. I hand you the paper bag, which you put back into your purse. You smile, looking at the detectable bulge in my pants. I slide into the seat, my hip inches from yours, and unroll my silverware to put my napkin in my lap. I see you have already sampled the egg rolls and have a crab puff on your plate, so I put some appetizers on my plate as well. As I lift an egg roll to my lips, you slide your hand under my napkin and rest your palm on the bulge of my cock. You look at my face, and inquire mildly, "Is something wrong with the egg roll, dear?" I swallow, trying to regain my composure, and shake my head in the negative. I try to concentrate on the mechanics of eating instead of the weight of your hand in my lap and the occasional brush of your fingers between my thighs. You smile, and bite into the soft part of a crab puff.
You chew and swallow, and slowly lick the rest of the cream cheese out of the puff shell. Your eyes twinkle as you watch me try to eat calmly, and your hand can feel just how un-calm I am. You inquire as to my current web activities, and I brief you on the handful of new web sites I've found and the current size of my text file collection. Our main courses arrive, and you remove your hand from my lap after lovingly rolling your fingertips over my balls. You open up your chopsticks and start on your cashew chicken.
The panty's waistband is now under the head of my cock, and the constant rubbing there is both an irritation and a distraction. When I reach down to adjust my lap, though, you tap me on the shoulder. "Please keep your hands above the table," you direct. I return my hands to my silverware, squirming for a more comfortable position in my pants. You reach down with your free hand and dexterously unfasten and unzip my pants, briefly pinching the head of my exposed cock.
We eat in relative silence, broken by the occasional nondescript comment. From time to time you ask me pointed questions about the subjects of the text files I keep and the ones I discard. Our dinner scene is normal enough that my penis would retreat on its own save for the images raised by your questions.
After finishing your meal, you dip your fingers in your plate and slip your hand once again under my napkin. Your fingers, slick from sesame oil and soy sauce, rub around my cock bringing it back to full hardness. You enfold the head in your warm hand and squeeze and roll your fist around it as our waitress arrives. I spread my legs as much as my pants allow, and if she notices the flush on my face, I hope she attributes it to the spices in the food. She inquires how our dinner was and I tell her we enjoyed it, then ask for the check.
When the waitress leaves the bill and our fortune cookies, you center my cock pointing up to my belly button and direct me to refasten my pants. I do so carefully so as not to catch any flesh in the zipper, then pull out my wallet and lay down enough to cover our meal and tip. Looking down to check my appearance, I stand up and hold out my hand for you to rise from your seat. We walk out of the restaurant to the car, and all the while I am acutely aware of my cock sticking up past the waistband of the panties. I wonder what you have planned for later.
When you get into the car this time, your skirt pulls up high enough for me to see that you have stockings with garters - not pantyhose. You look me over from top to bottom, then nod for me to close the car door. As we drive back to your hotel, you stroke the inside of my right leg with your long nails. The head of my cock, where it sticks out from the panties, scrapes against the inside of my pants zipper as I shift in my seat. When we arrive at the hotel, I am sure my erection must be obvious to everyone. We walk casually through the lobby to the elevators, and you stand behind me as I press the button marked "16". There are a half dozen people already on the elevator, and I stare at the ceiling trying to be nonchalant while you amuse yourself by fondling my ass. By the time we reach your floor, my cock is throbbing painfully.
You retrieve the door card from your purse and open the door, pointing me toward the room proper while you head for the bathroom. I hear the toilet flush and the sound of running water while I stand by the dresser observing the room. It's the standard mid-comfort hotel room-two twin beds, work desk and phone with computer data jack, color TV with remote and list of pay channels, combination alarm clock/radio. Looking around the room has allowed my body to relax, and when the bathroom door opens you come into the room, frowning as you see me. "You're overdressed" is your only comment, and you lean against the wall, folding your arms. Embarrassed at my lack of foresight, I head for the bathroom only to be stopped by your command. "No. Here." I look around the room and settle on the open space in front of the television.
The prospect of undressing before you for the first time is enough to bring my softened penis back to attention in its silky confines. I stand facing you and unbutton my shirt, revealing a chest liberally sprinkled with light gray hairs and a stomach losing the fight against executive spread. I hang the shirt carefully over the back of the chair behind the desk, then return to face you. I slide my belt through the loops, coil it and place it on top of the desk, then slide my feet out of my shoes and shove them under the desk with the side of one foot.
Now I unzip my pants and slide them down my legs, slowly revealing first the head of my cock already red and flaring, then the panties which you bade me wear, then my legs - knobby knees and all. I slip my feet out of the pants legs, fold the slacks and put them also on the desk. I lift each foot in turn and slide the sock off, then put my socks on top of my pants.
I feel it safe to assume since you told me to wear the panties that you will instruct me when to remove them. I stand at parade rest, hands clasped loosely behind my back, legs parted. I hold my eyes focused straight ahead, but I know by feel that my cock and balls are bulging in the panties. I can feel each stray air current passing between my thighs. Goosebumps appear on my arms.
You move to me now, barely brushing against me as you describe a circle. I feel the swell of your breasts pressing into my back through your dress, the delicate trace of your fingernail in my underarm, the touch of your dress sliding past my crotch, the barest whisper of your thumbs against my nipples. I clench my hands together forcing down the urge to move my hips forward. You smile fleetingly, and back away from me to sit down on the edge of the bed.
You press the middle of your lips with your index finger pensively, then quietly order me to turn around and lean over with my hands on the dresser. I turn and face away from you, nervously clenching and unclenching my buttocks. I feel your hand insert itself between my legs, rolling my balls, and you briefly grip the shaft of my cock through the panty. Your hand leaves me with only the hushed rustle of your clothing to indicate your presence.
!SHFAK! "Owww!... One, thank You ma'am." I remember how you told me to accept my discipline, and I try and relax my bottom before the next spank hits. !SPLAP! "(gulp) Two, thank You ma'am." I am just beginning to feel the separate spots on my right side where your fingers landed when your hand hits my left cheek. You settle into a slow, steady rhythm, and every time your hand strikes my ass, my hips thrust forward from the impact and my cock slides past the edge of the panty. Twelve spanks before you finish. A few tears have trickled down my face, my bottom is on fire and my cock is throbbing.
Your hand slips into the back of the panty, cool against my burning skin, and strokes me gently before withdrawing, leaving me shivering in reaction. "Feet together" comes your soft command. I slide my feet along the carpet, bringing them close to each other. Your nails prick my skin at the sides of my waist and bring the panty down to the floor, where you hold it until I remove my feet.
I hear you moving behind me and the soft squeak of the bed as you sit down. "Stand and present" you say. I push off against the dresser into a standing position, move my feet about a foot apart, and hold my arms out to my sides, slowly bringing them up until my hands meet high above my head. I clasp my hands together in a high arch and stretch. You follow the lines of the muscles on my arms, back and legs. My butt cheeks clench and release randomly, as if winking at you. "Lift" you say, and I raise my heels off the floor making my calves stand out. My body quivers as I work to keep my balance.
"Front and out," the words I both dread and anticipate. I drop back down onto my feet, savoring the brief moment of relaxation in the backs of my legs, and turn slowly around. My arms are still arched above my head, and my cock bobs in the air as I rotate to face you. You sit on the edge of the bed, gazing at me. I finish turning and plant my feet a well-practiced 30 inches apart so that my balls dangle free. Smoothly I draw two quarter-circles in the air with my extended fingers, stopping when my arms are straight out, palms up. Your eyes travel across my body from forehead to feet, my erection flagging to half-mast under your impassive gaze.
You stand and go to the bathroom, returning with the ice bucket. You place two of the small cylinders in each of my palms, and rub another handful of ice over my reddened bottom, melting the cubes down somewhat. Then you slowly draw a cube up and down between my ass cheeks, stroking the tip against my anus before pushing it inward. With my legs spread I can't put up much resistance, and the cold intruder works its way inexorably inside me until my sphincter snaps tight around your finger. I shiver and try to focus on keeping my palms facing up while you rotate your finger inside me before pulling it out.
You return to the bed, wiping your finger on a towel, and comment "That wasn't so bad now, was it?" The question is rhetorical, since my renewed erection is answering for me. Long minutes pass, and the smile now on your face grows while I struggle to stay steady and upright. Melted ice water trickles down between my fingers, and also down the insides of my legs. Finally, when the quivering in my arms and legs becomes pronounced, you point to the floor in front of you and command, "Drop ten."
I bend my knees and half-fall forward toward you, landing on all fours with my bottom sticking up in the air. I shuffle into a balanced position, tucking my hips down as I do so. Before I can take more than a brief steadying breath, your feet land on my shoulders with the tips of your high heels digging sharply into my shoulder blades. "One, Mistress" - I dip and rise, feeling the strain in my arms. "Two, Mistress" - and each time my body drops to the floor, the base of my cock scrapes against the carpet. When I finally finish the required exercise, my upper arms ache from the effort. You lift your heels from my back and place them on the floor in front of me.
Still in pushup position, I bow my head to kiss each instep and tell you "Thank You, Mistress." Your response is a curt "Roll over." I roll onto my back, arms outstretched, and wait as you rise from the bed. You walk over me, the hem of your dress dragging over my face, and kneel over my chest. Somehow I am not surprised to find you without panties under the dress. You press your ass back against my face, and I respond with kisses and long lapping strokes of my tongue across and between your cheeks. I fill my lungs with your scent, squirming in response to your toying with my nipples. My cock throbs, catching your attention, and you slide forward to sit astride my stomach.
You grasp and roll my balls, feeling the heat from my cock against your wrist. With my head covered by the back of your dress, I can only squirm beneath your touch and wonder what will happen. You dig your nails into the sensitive skin around my ball sac, forcing me to open my legs wide and making my cock lurch in response. I feel you grip my balls tighter, then my balls are quickly wrapped with a lace or string, pulling them out from my body and separating them. Satisfied with their new size and color, you open a lubricated condom and unroll it onto me.
I breathe in deep shallow draughts as you move on top of my stomach. You grip my shaft and squeeze the residual air out of the top of the condom, twisting the slippery latex around the swollen head of my cock. Then, lifting the hem of your dress and leaning slightly back, you swipe my cockhead up and down between your labia. At one end of each stroke you tease the opening to your vagina (and squeeze my cock tighter to counteract the effect your cunt has on it). At the other end you roll the cockhead on and around your clit. Your juices gather in my pubic hair and slowly make their way down around the edges of my ball sac.
You stroke yourself harder, softly cooing and moaning, mashing my cock against your clit, pushing it deep into your vee and thrusting it deep inside you. All the time you maintain an iron clamp at the base of my shaft. I can feel your cunt walls writhing around me cock deliciously but I'm trapped beneath you unable to make any moves of my own volition. Every time you move my swollen balls feel even larger. Suddenly you change your approach, leaning slightly forward with your weight on your heels and dropping your hips down hard onto me. You start grunting audibly with each downward stroke, culminating with an "ah... ahh... OOOHHH!!!" as you drop solidly onto my cock and writhe from side to side using your free hand on your clit.
My diaphragm aches from supporting your weight; my balls feel ready to explode, and the top of my cock is almost in pain every time it moves within your cunt. A few minutes pass marked only by heavy breathing on both our parts, then you lift yourself off of me with an audible "pop".
"Open your mouth, dear," you command. As soon as I do so, you squeeze the shaft and head of my cock rhythmically, once, twice, three, four times, then whip the condom up and off my cock as you release the base of my shaft. My balls, painfully denied for so long, practically turn themselves inside out as I cum hard, my moans approaching a scream which you muffle with the discarded panties. Cum strikes my chin and shoulders as I practically throw my hips into the air, bucking like a wild man. When I start to slow down you release the laces from around my balls and stroke them gently, sending me off again to that place where I'm only aware of two feelings - your hand on my balls and my cock pushing my cum out.
Finally spent, I lie exhausted on the floor. You remove the panties from my mouth, scoop up some of the cum from my chest and place your finger in my mouth. I suck your finger clean thoroughly, obediently, happily. You leave me on the floor to go to the bathroom, and return fully nude. Leaning over my head, you offer me your breasts to be kissed and suckled, then you turn around and squat over me so that I may clean your juices from your belly and between your thighs. When my tongue is aching from the workout, you move to the bed and pull down the coverlet and sheet. "Arise," you command, "and finish bidding me a proper good night."
I stand shakily and see you lying face down on the bed. Thinking about the phrasing of your statement, I lean over you and tenderly kiss your bottom cheeks, first on the outside, then along the full curve, and finally in the cleft. I then give you lingering kisses down the inside of each leg, and bathe each of your toes in turn with a long suckling kiss.
Finished, I stand attentively at the side of the bed. You slide underneath the covers and beckon me closer. Reaching out, you take my cock in your hand and bring it to your lips for an equally tender kiss. You then bid me lean over to kiss you good night and make my departure.
After a quick shower, I look around the room for my clothes and realize my underpants are nowhere to be found. I look back at the bed and meet your laughing eyes, realizing this is merely another expression of your power over me. Figuring out how to get home and to bed without my wife noticing will be another test for me, one you will expect me to report on at our next meeting.