Thursday, October 10, 2013

BDSM: A Night on the Town

Image: MarishaSha/Shutterstock
used with permission

This little short came out of my personal fantasy land late one evening when my mind kicked off and my muse began to play. In its first incarnation there were many more elements to the story, which would have greatly expanded the narrative. And yet, when I finally took it to the computer, I let those other elements go and focused on this scene alone. No back story. No plot. Just a sexy incident in time remains, of the kind most submissives would not easily forget.

According to her Master's explicit wishes, a devoted slave checks into a cheap hotel and prepares herself for his arrival.

A Night on the Town by Lizbeth Dusseau
 

 As planned, she arrived in the city by train, the trip just a little over two hours from her home, then took a taxi to the hotel where he’d booked her room. The hotelkeeper must have had some prior knowledge of why she was there because he’d chosen a room on the third floor of his ancient establishment, which he reserved exclusively for rendezvous like hers would be. The privacy it afforded was ideal, under the circumstances. Times were hard in the city and it was rare that even his second floor of ten rooms filled up even on the busiest weekends. The third floor with its threadbare carpet down the hall and furnishings badly in need of an update was perfect for those for whom comfort and luxury were secondary to having a secluded place where unusual noises would not be noticed by the general clientele.

    The aging proprietor opened the room, pointed out the attached bath then smiled at her in a way that suggested he had full knowledge of her purpose in coming to the city that weekend.

    “The room is private. I promised him that. But if you’re a screamer, I’d prefer he used a gag. You tell him that, will you?”

    “Yes, sir,” she politely replied, her head bashfully lowered, as her cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. “But that won’t be necessary, I’m not a screamer.”

    “Yeah, I’ve heard that before.” He eyed her up and down, stripping away her clothes in his mind. She knew the look, and trembled, feeling as if he’d just laid waste her soul and her dignity. “You look like a screamer to me.”

    She watched the room key disappear into his pocket. Seeing her observe the move so closely, he said, “The man said you weren’t to lock the door. I’m just making sure.” With that he turned and left her alone.

    She watched the door close, and then stood in numbed repose for nearly sixty seconds as she tried to calm her anxious nerves. Then, suddenly realizing that she didn’t have much time – to wash her hair and bathe, and shave herself clean of every hair on her body below the neck – she shook herself awake and briskly moved toward the bathroom.

Later, when she was done in the bath, she stood before the mirror and swept her hair back into a bun at the back of her head. She applied the usual make-up, something light – he didn’t want her made up like a tramp, even though some would call her that if they knew how she would spend her weekend. Still staring into the mirror, she picked up the steel and leather collar he’d given her some months before, and opened it wide enough to slip around her throat. The collar circled her neck as if it were the only place that it belonged. Meanwhile a shudder of desire darted through her body and finally settled into a throbbing in her crotch. She could already see that her pussy was wet, but he’d forbade her to touch herself after she shaved, so despite the clawing desire to press her fingers to her cunt and get off, she restrained herself. Checking the clock, she knew she was living on borrowed time, he could enter the room at any moment and she would not be ready for him.

    Would he punish her then or make her wait until later – after a long time had gone by during which her anxiety would have grown so desperate she would be begging to be whipped?

    But she wouldn’t be punished. He was not there yet. All she had to do was kneel before the unlocked door and wait for him to appear.
                                                                                                
                                                         ***

She heard the doorknob jiggle and the creaky hinges as the door opened, then felt his footfall depress the carpet before her hidden eyes. She was crouched as ordered, bowed like the slave she was, his offering, his slave, his concubine, his trampy whore until he finally sent her away. After he’d used her.

    “Let me see you, slut.” He barked the order and she pulled from the crouch, rising up on her knees, spreading them wide, lacing her fingers together behind her neck, elbows wide, breasts thrusting forward for his inspection. She kept her head high but her eyes submissively lowered.

    She waited, trembled as he walked around her with his leather belt dangling from his hand.  When he’d extracted it from his pants she had no idea, but it was in his fist now, threatening any sense of calm she might have briefly enjoyed in seconds of relief after he walked in the door. She sensed nothing ominous in his demeanor, but he was known to be deceiving, capable of hiding intentions and emotions behind an inscrutable reserve.

    “You want this, slave?” He held the belt to her face, to her nostrils so she could smell the fragrant leather. She knew he meant to beat her and beat her hard.

    “Yes, Master,” she said without hesitation.

    She sensed him smile, a smile as evil as his dark heart, when his darker needs arose. She lifted her gaze enough to see his face dim further, his eyes smolder and his smile disappear into a lusty scowl. Before her eyes his crotch was bursting with a hard erection pushing against the fabric of his pants. She could smell his pheromones and feel the throbbing of his body inside her own. “First things first, you dirty whore,” he glowered darkly, and he stepped forward. “Now, slut.”

    Quickly, her hands flew to his pants, unbuttoning them at the waist, drawing down the zipper, and with some effort extracting his stiff cock from inside. He backed her off before she could cover the organ with her mouth, and looking down, slapped her face with his open palm. She wanted more of that – she loved the sting of his smack, being the slavish slut who enjoyed such things. Instead of granting her wish, his hand grabbed for her hair and he shoved her face into his warm groin. Her mouth opened and she swallowed his erection deeply before she backed off slightly and began the work of pleasuring him in earnest. By the time the hour was over, her mouth would have serviced both his ass – with a burrowing tongue – and his cock until the cum she couldn’t swallow fast enough was spilling out on her lips and down her chin.

    Only then would he beat her ass.
    Only after that would he dress his slave in the demure black dress he’d brought with him and take her out on the town.




Copyright, © 2013 by Lizbeth Dusseau, all rights reserved. Unpublished

4 comments:

  1. Wonderful gasp of a tale, beautifully handled in tone and tension. Brava.

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  2. i love the opening...it made an incredible way to meet the main character. i totally love that you totally take your time with her, specially those moments when she was alone, that to me was totally appealing and love it because usually people tend to move forward and get you to the sexuality and they forget that everything is in the foreplay.

    the "tone" on the second portion totally was like when the doors of the horse race are open and the horses are blasting from the starting line...wow what a rush of adrenaline, this guy is taking no prisoners, love it love it.

    there's not enough complimenting words that could be said of this piece, cause everything you do is magical and fill with that sense of exploration and wonder.

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  3. There are times that my work does "blast from the starting line" right off the bat... which I sometimes think is awfully fun. What's nice about writing is experimenting with the different elements and seeing what the result looks like. So glad you liked this one.

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