The boy met us at the entrance as arranged looking like a movie star from the 50's in his black pants pressed into a razor-like crease, the white dinner jacket gleaming under the lights from the overhead roof of the 5 Star hotel and the thin silk tie tucked under the wrapped double breast of the jacket. The door opens and a hand extends inside the town car for me to take; which I do and use it to bring myself out to look around the front facade of the dramatic hotel. Times like this make me feel like a super star in my own realm and I soak up the ambiance. A thin white card is offered to me which I take and head towards the dazzling shine of the highly-polished brass entrance. I hear the heavy lid of the trunk pop open and the soft thudding of the steamer trunk before I sweep through the revolving door and into the lobby. I don't wait for him, there's no need -- instead I make my way to the elevator and give an approving glance to the hurrying boy as he arrives in time to join me.
The soft dings of each floor passing by mixed with the whispering whirr the motor makes is the only thing which breaks the comfortable silence in the carriage. I study the boy quickly, checking off the items on my mental list and add a note to contact the agency with my approval. The trunk rests atop the elegant brass dolly you find in such quality hotels, my garment bag hangs idly full of the tempting delights carefully selected just for this event. The soft slide of the door interrupts my thoughts and invites me to step through into the elegantly-lit hall. A quick check of the number sequence and down the passage I lead to find the suite.
I smile as the room is unveiled by the opening door - lavish furnishings, real flowers and artwork highlighted by the soft, amber of carefully placed lamps and accent lighting. The suite is comfortable for a single night or more, never allowing it's occupant to suffer luxury while being away from home. I glide across the thick carpeting leaving tiny divots as a chenille wrap is discarded absent-mindedly onto a chair ... clutch onto the sofa ... shoes finally kicked free to stack against the heavy-wood coffee table. "I'm going to freshen up", I finally state without need of retort. "Set the trunk at the bottom of the bed and start the preparations as were given to you." and into the glamorous ensuite I disappear.
I can hear the soft clicking and clinking of metal kissing together in the other room which is quickly drowned out by the steamy rush of water from the overhead rain shower. Stepping through the glass door, I relax into the heat of the massaging jets and let the stress of the day wash down the drain. Before I've closed the glass door behind me and before both my feet are sinking into the bath matt, the service boy has arrived with an over-sized, pillowy, white towel to wrap around me and start patting my dripping skin dry. Perfectly trained for bath service, he knows exactly how to move around my own movements so I don't have to stop and pose for him to ensure every square inch has been carefully seen to but yet he's never invading in his thoroughness of my vanity. I slip a nail across his face in silent thanks while passing him as my hair is being squeezed into another towel to dry it to a comforting dampness. My outfit has been carefully laid out on the edge of the bed. The Cinzano Rosso is waiting, bucket of ice nearby waiting to cook it down some. The lights are dim and the delightful toys are displayed onto the table. The boy hasn't missed a thing, which I'm not surprised of.
I can hear his breathing heavy and wet within the head hood born of the anticipation, fear and exhilaration of the journey. He's guided easily out of the trunk by the boy - his long limbs slowly unfolding to allow them to relax and stretch back out to full height and support his weight again. The boy stands him before me on display, using the inside of his own patent-clad foot to help my boys feet into a better position. The thin mesh of the thong doesn't hide the thickness of his shaft nor does it support him well, but he's stuffed his cock perfectly into that little piece of wardrobe and I couldn't be more pleased. "Fix his collar." I flatly command and the service boy quickly arranges the 4" wide band of black leather to be centered so the supporting rings are in their correct place. "Set the straps and bring me the clamps." he's told as I rise and make my way over to my slut. The dutiful boy who's been harbouring such terror of the box since his first experience with an untrained woman, of which will be forever altered for him this night forward.
I can smell his excitement as I circle around him - the predatory bird hovering close to the weakened and waiting for her time to swoop down and claim it. His body still holding the thick scent of sandalwood which is a regular part of his hygiene regimen mingling with the heavy scent of natural musk entices me and I inhale deeply to enjoy him. I bet the front of that thong is wet now. I take a step nearer him so he can feel me, the hood blocking any sense of sight and disorienting him just enough to easily put him off guard and keep him that way. I want him to feel the warmth of my body as I press it against his bare chest, the softness of the lace wrapped tightly around my chest brushing against him as I move. I let one of my stockend legs brush past him and I watch as his back stiffens some with his realization of what I have put on - his favourite of course, too bad he will never see it to be sure.
Easily I hook a finger into the back ring of his collar and lead him to walk and follow me to the trunk. The boy has folded out the leather straps which were specifically designed to attach inside and the lid's been shut with the thick padding of leather on top as a mattress. One of the good things about these old-style steamer trunks is they are sturdy and can take a lot of use and abuse - exactly what I need as he is laid atop the pad on his stomach and the clips of his cuffs are attached to the four points of the trunk. It always excites me to see him as such and I stand at his head with my feet parted so he can inhale the sweet scent of my arousal. The soft sigh whispering inside the hood is enough indication to know he's fully aware of this psychological game and I quickly wave the boy to take my place - now stripped and equipped with the polished ring at the base of his shaft.
Such a beautiful length of swollen meat this boy has for mine, hardened and flawless as it's pressed against the rubber of the hood. As previously arranged , now he knows he has the full run of my boy under my supervision and guidance - my focus is now on breaking my boy through his fear and the servant boy is focusing on bringing him pleasure. The mouth is opened in the hood and a deep, almost convulsive gasp fills the air. I know that sound well and I smile as I ease myself down into the chair and claim the poured-glass of Cinzano the boy had prepared while I was tormenting mine . I see the pink tongue seep through the opening to lap at the tip of his cock and I feel the warm stirrings of my sex start to rise knowing this indeed will be a wonderful night to remember.
There's something of a cruel and brutal pleasure you take when you have set up a forced-bi situation with two delicious men. I watch carefully as the boy takes mine through a series of dirty and deviant acts which brings them both closer and closer to explosive pleasure. He tugs his cock free of the hungry, needful sucking of my boy's mouth and groans in guttural pleasure at the string of pearly precum still links them together. The wet slapping of his cock against the hood milks louder and louder moans from mine as he bows his back in hungry posture forcing his ass up and thighs to part. Mine has been blessed with an extreme amount of meat hanging between his legs and it's not long before it's pumped up and busted out of the small fabric which covered it only an hour before. I can see he wants a good fucking. His ass is primed and aching to be filled and taken. I reach down and gently tap the hardened bud of my clit a couple times before shifting some and waving the boy to come and sidle up behind mine.
He thrashes some in the chains, realizing what's coming next and I can feel his apprehension. I rise and move back to his head and pull the lace crotch of the teddy aside and lower my pulsating pussy down onto his swollen and well-used lips. "Show your Mistress how much you appreciate all the work she's put into this evening's activities." It's not long before I can feel my clit jumping and wanting to explode and coat his face with my own cream but I pull back. I sacrifice my own immediate pleasure to relax him and bring him out of his panic space to be eased into his pleasure again as the boy is comfortably balanced on the pad and gliding his thick cock deeply into my boy's ass.
I pull the hood off and look down at his soaked head, hair plastered to his face ... drool and precum flowing freely down his chin. "You're a sexy bitch you know, mine." I growl to him as I lean down and bite the top edge of his ear. "How lovely you are right now, posed on your belly with this man stuffing his cock in and out of your tight ass. I want you to enjoy it and I want you to cum when you need to but you will ask him to fuck you as hard as he can before you do and while you do. Disobey me and you will regret it." I move back to the chair to get comfortable and my pinching fingers find my nipples trapped under the silky lace as the pleasure-filled grunts and whimpers grow louder and louder, tainted with urgency and I watch the lovely sight before me.
The boy reddens my boys ass with some carefully placed slaps of his hand and the screams of beastly need rises out from my boy. "Don't forget what I told you, bitch." I remind him and he follows with the most need-filled plea I've ever heard, and in fact I didn't know he had in him. The service boy's body flexes and drips with sweat as he pistons his cock in and out of my boys ass, the slapping sounds sharp and almost drowning out the words begged to him. I move back to the head of the box and wait for him to relax and ride out the last wave of bliss before leaning down to purr into his ear "You did very well mine." my hand waves to dismiss the boy who retreats to the washroom to clean up, he not be a part of this tender moment which is so important to the session "I'm very proud of you. I want you to rest there and regain your strength. I'm going to unclip you but I don't want you to move or speak. Just think back of the events and let them tattoo themselves onto your soul."
I unclip the four chains and let them gently fall against the side of the trunk to not disrupt his journey down into his space. My voice coos softly and I hum a favoured tune of his to help ease him out of any pain he might be in. Now and then my hands finds him to massage a red mark here and there. I know he enjoyed himself and I can only hope this good experience will over-shadow the bad and rid it of his mind. Now, for the next one ....
0 comments:
Post a Comment