Hotel Mysterious

Chapter 4: The Afternoon hours

            I got up off the bed, which was a little awkward given the ankle strap, and stood up.  Looked around and took stock.  I shuffled off to the bathroom and sat down to take a leak.  Could just barely do that through the rubber around my shaft.  Can’t urinate while hard, can’t get really soft with bondage and cock bondage on.  Still I made it.  Stood up and then had a full on “doh” realization: My bondage was not locked down.  I could unclip my hands and I did so, with a little work.  My ankles turned out to be the same way, just clipped together.  I freed myself and undid the leather cuffs and did some stretching and bending.  It had just been to slow me down till she could leave.

            I went back to the living room.  Walking was still a little difficult as I had all that mass of rubber and vibrators and who knows what all gripping my cock.  The friction was stimulating me again.  I popped on the TV and lay down on the bed to watch.

            I guess I fell asleep because a poking woke me up.  I reached down and then I realized that the vibrator was going again.  I looked at the clock.  I’d slept for nearly two hours.  Could I really get hard again that fast?  The vibrator kept on while I just looked at my cock and the harness.  Soon I was feeling a little randy with the vibration and I rolled over face down on the bed and started rubbing my cock against the sheet.  I thought about that Mistress out somewhere, and that I had to serve her in this humiliating way while she was not even here.  I imagined being in this room for days, being found by someone and this made me get harder.  But I think the most erotic thing was being ordered to masturbate by someone who wasn’t even here.

            I put my hands down between my legs and rubbed more and more.  The vibrator stepped up in intensity for a while and then went back down.  It stopped all of a sudden and I went bolt up like I’d been shocked.  Oh God, don’t stop!  Fortunately it started up again after a bit and I lay down and began rubbing again.  I really don’t know how long this went on until I came, less violently this time but still powerful and releasing of tension.  Soon I was asleep again.

            This time when I woke up, I did it on my own.  Got up, flexed again, shuffled off to the bathroom, cleaned up as best I could, came back.  Had just gotten into a show when, wham, suddenly there was a jab to my cock.  I looked down in alarm, and then I remembered she had said something about a TENS unit in there.  Oh, crap.  Zap, it came again and I jumped this time.  I got up and sort of wandered around aimlessly while I got zapped again every few seconds.

            OK, I got the pattern, every 5, 6 seconds.  No, now it starts going random.  Two in succession.  A pause.  One mild one.  One big one.  Two mild ones.  Pause.  And so on, no pattern at all and that makes it much more upsetting because you cannot figure it out and prepare for it.  I was kind of hopping about the room when it changed again.  Now the vibrator came on.  I was wary for while but eventually relaxed into it and headed back to the bed for more power assisted masturbation.  Zap!  The vibrator stopped and I got hit again by the TENS.  Crap, this was torture.  Just get used to one thing, and then get another.

            The shocks got more intense and then backed off and returned.  One big jolt and I felt a cold rush of fear through me, this was not fun; it was getting a little intense.  The shocks stopped and again the vibrations and then things stopped altogether.

            A few seconds passed with nothing, was it really done?  I lay back on the bed, keyed up.  Should I let myself relax?  Man, then I got the cunning of it all.  If I relaxed and the shock came back it would be a dozen times worse.  If I stayed keyed up and aware, I’d get so tired out I couldn’t stand it.  I felt the first signs of panic, I had no idea how long this would go on and if there was no combination of shock, vibration or silence that would give me rest, then I was really in the soup!

            I got up, pacing around the room, the weight of the apparatus on my cock swaying and pulling on my dick.  And that was part of it too, it had been on there long enough now to start to become sore and exhausting all by itself.  Maybe I should jump in a tub of water and try to short the thing out?  Just my luck I’d get myself all the worse with that.  The TV was jabbering away about nothing and I shut it off in irritation.

            I should tell you all the times I went around all this, but fortunately it has all blurred together now.  All I know is that it went on like this and I got more and more tired and more and more concerned.  Again and again I had to fight off the feelings of panic.

            And then the door opened.  Yet another Mistress stood there while I stood in the room holding my cock – both literally and symbolically.  She was a tiny thing, slim, short, petite.  She was in the uniform of a professional: heels, hose, short skirt and matching jacket.  Hair neatly done, the works.  Was she my savior?

            “Lie down on the bed on your back.”  I hurried to do so.  “Put your hands over your head and spread your legs.”  Again, I quickly complied.

            She came over to the side of the bed and put her purse down on the bed.  Her movements were fluid, her voice clear and refined.  She opened up the purse, pulled out a pair of latex gloves and put them on.  Then, carefully, she pulled a key out of her purse and started unlocking the apparatus that had held my cock all afternoon.  As we all know, taking off restraint can be more painful than leaving it on as feeling and blood return and I grimaced and twitched as she did.

            She got the harness free and then held it up by one corner.  Holding it at arms length from her body she moved it over to the table and put it down.  She clearly didn’t want to get anything on her or her expensive clothes.  She came back to me and took out of her purse a face mask, the kind doctors wear in the operating room, and put it on over her mouth and nose.

            Through the mask she said, “sit up and put your hands by your sides.”  I did so and she reached into her purse and pulled out a necklace studded with a several black disks.  Standing as far away from me as she could, she reached and placed the necklace around my neck and I heard the faint click of a latch securing it.

            She backed up, took her purse and retreated to the chairs by the window.  “You didn’t sit in this one did you?”

            And if I did, I thought? Not like I’m going to give you something.  “No, Mistress, I have not sat there.”

            Still she pulled out a tissue and wiped the chair down before sitting in it and crossing her legs.

            “OK then,” she said, “I think you should be pretty worn out by now, but that necklace will keep you from playing any games with me.  It’s got a punch much greater than that cock harness you wore, and I will use it at the first sign of any disobedience or disrespect.  Is that clear?”

            “Yes, Mistress.”

            “Well then, time to show just how things are.  Get down on the floor, all fours and crawl over her but do not come closer than three feet.”  All very neat and precise.

            I got of the far side of the bed and down on hands and knees and shuffled over to what I hoped was three and a half feet away.

            “You may look up at me.”  I raised my eyes.

            “You are all sweaty, getting quite dirty.  Yet, I suspect this does not bother you very much.  You have probably been like this repeatedly.” 

            Nothing I could say in response to that.  I looked at her.  She was so elegant, all her clothes matched, her slim body looked very smart.  She had money and used it with understated elegance.  I began to get embarrassed. 

            “Turn around and present your ass to me.”  I complied.  “Now put your face in the dirty carpet and raise your ass to me.”  She paused.  “Reach back and spread your cheeks for me.”  Why is this such a humiliating position?  So vulnerable. 

            “You are sort of an animal anyway, so let’s see you act the little dog for me.  No talking unless you want to bark.  Act exactly like a dog does or it will be the painful necklace for you.”  And she stopped talking.  I’ve done the dog training scene before but usually the Mistress gives out some commands and I follow.  This would be a bit different.

            I decided that my present position, however sub like, was not very dog like.  So I went back to all fours and turned around and looked at her.  Put my nose down and sniffed the carpet.  I came a little closer.  Dogs are friendly. 

            “Stay!” she offered in a commanding but not loud voice.  “Sit.”  I rocked back on my ankles and raised my head, just like a dog.  I looked at her.  She looked at me.  That’s the open naked thing.  Why is eyes lowered considered submissive?  You can hide your shame at being so submissive that way.  Much more powerful to have to look the Mistress in the eye and know that there is no escape from her gaze.

            She reached into her purse and retrieved a small dog bone.  The tossed it over my head and across the room.  “Fetch.”

            I turned around again and crawled off after the bone that was by the luggage rack.  I picked it up in my teeth and turned around and came crawling back to present it on the floor by my Mistress.  My face was flushed now and my much abused cock was getting hard as this humiliation is always a big turn on.  She had taken off her face mask but kept her gloves on.  Reaching for the bone she said, “good doggie, go fetch” and tossed it again.

            She made me fetch and return a couple of times more.  Then, after I returned one more time she picked up the bone wiped it off with a tissue and placed it in a plastic baggie and put it back in her purse.  That simple act made me feel so dirty, so animal like, and her so far above and beyond me. 

            “You are happy aren’t you?  Happy dogs wag their tails.”  Hey, if I had a tail it would be wagging.  I rocked my ass back and forth while looking at her, my face getting more flushed if possible.

            Again there was a moment’s pause while our eyes locked.  There was a tension in the air, a tension rising from what I don’t know exactly, some energy rising out of the opposites that we were acting.  Not just “me sub, you mistress” but the opposites of naked and elegant clothed, the opposites of me sweaty and her so clean and the opposite of my animal and her refined character.  In another context it would have exploded into violent sex between us, but not with her.

            The explosion came all right.  She leapt up out of her chair, and practically shouted at me “BAD DOG!”  I rocked back and started edging away, what had I done?  But of course, the point of all this is that I had done nothing.  If I had been bad it wouldn’t have been submission.  The power of being punished in submission is precisely that it is not deserved by any action.

            Only now did I see that she had brought a newspaper with her into the room.  Grabbing it wildly she rolled it up, and taking a big swing, sent it crashing across the back of my head with a big thwack.  She practically jumped over my body and getting in behind me, sent the newspaper slapping across my ass.  “You BAD, filthy, dirty dog!” her voice was ragged now, control being lost.  She began raining a torrent of blows across my ass, my back, the rear of my thighs and my shoulders.  All I could do was lower my head to the carpet and whimper.  Yes, I think I did whimper. 

            “You dirty, dirty dog, how did you think you could DO this!”  The blows went on.  The nice, no, wonderful thing about a rolled up newspaper is how much noise it makes, yet, because it yields, it is not as painful as other punishment devices.  If she was hitting me with a cane like this, I’d be bleeding my now.  She’d have to be controlling her energy, and that would be not what she needed, Ms. Elegant Mistress.  She needed to loose control as much as I needed to loose all internal restraints of propriety that would normally have kept me from playing fetch while naked in a strange motel room.  Symbiosis.  Yin and Yang.  There is no teamwork like that between a sub and a Mistress.

            And the newspaper was testifying that she was totally loosing control, bits of chaff from it were floating around me and falling to the carpet  After more of her yelling at me, she came to a halt, and I could hear her ragged breathing.  “GET in your kennel!”  Oh, where was that?  I turned around and looked at her.  Her chest was heaving, her blouse had come partially out of her skirt.  One hand with the newspaper was pointing to the closet.  Oh, and the other hand was down her skirt and on her pussy.

            I crawled over to the closet, and turned around inside.  I curled up on the floor, hugging myself, taking in the tingling of my skin all over my back side.   I had no sooner got inside than she threw the newspaper away, ripped off her gloves, and fell back on the bed.  She unzipped her skirt and she soon had both hands working her pussy.  Her voice took on a different tone as she masturbated herself and I watched fascinated as her cries came, first softly, then louder.  She started swearing every cuss word a lady should not know, calling on God, and saying “yes, yes, yes.” over and over.

            She came with an explosion, her body rolling from side to side, her legs locked together.  She lay there for a bit, and I thought she might have passed out.  But, eventually she got up, and I could tell that the elegant woman had returned by her controlled motions.  She looked at me.  “Stay.”  She got up and went into the bathroom and I heard water splashing. 

            She came out, once again the perfectly coiffed, elegant, everything-in-place person in command.  She packed up her bag, turned, looked at me once more.  “Stay dirty, the next Mistress really likes that.  She’ll bring dinner.”  And she left.