SECRET RENDEZVOUS
By Dulaney Browne I had expected the knock on my hotel door for a long time. When it came, I checked my watch: 7:00PM. Right on time. However, it took a bit before I answered. I wanted to make sure everything was just perfect. When I opened the door, I could tell she was apprehensive. We had discussed meeting in various exotic locales for a solitary magical night— Paris , Monte Carlo , Rio de Janeiro . I was a bit surprised when she suggested the Caribbean . She was a news reporter for a local TV station who occasionally did anchor jobs on the weekends. She loved to travel and was paid well enough to afford pricy vacations. She could have picked any place in the world to meet. Still, the Caribbean seemed a romantic enough choice. We had met online. We chatted casually at first, then for hours at a time. I came to know her likes and dislikes: what made her happy, how she thought, what turned her off, and more importantly, what turned her on. After about six months, we started calling each other. Then we met a few times in person, just for drinks, and then for dinner. At last, we decided a getaway might be exciting. For this “secret rendezvous,” as she liked to call it, I had promised her new sensations. New delights, things she had talked about, things I know she had only fantasized about, but had not tried. I decided she would know pleasure tonight as she’d never known before. I would have pleasure too. “Hi,” I said, opening the door. “Come on in.” “Hi,” she said with a nervous laugh. Her eyes darted back and forth as if expecting to see something besides a luxurious but rather ordinary hotel room. All there was to see was my barely unpacked suitcase, an oversized briefcase sitting at an awkward angle on the dresser, and a silver bucket with iced Champaign . We hugged affectionately. Her perfume mixed sweetly with the scents of soap and shampoo. “You look great,” I said, stepping back and gorging myself with her beauty. She was small framed, but long limbed, tanned, athletic. She wasn’t fashion-magazine gorgeous, but she had a perky, girl-next-door quality that I just could not resist. “Relax,” I said, taking her hand and leading her to the couch. “I can’t,” she said with the same laugh. “I am so nervous…..” “There’s no reason to be nervous,” I said. “I’ll be a perfect gentleman.” “I hope not,” she smiled. I laughed as I poured us a drink. I wanted her to be at ease so we just sipped Champaign and talked for a while. We talked about important things and not so important things. We made each other laugh, made each other think, basked in each other’s company. It was wonderful just to be together. And I loved the way she looked at me—as if to say “This is right.” Finally, the talk took an awkward pause. I looked in her eyes. She looked in mine. We kissed for the first time. It was awkward, casual, and sweet, more like two shy adolescences than serious adults. Still, it ended too quickly. “Stand up,” I said. She hesitated, clearly unsure of what I meant or what she should do. Then it registered. “Oh,” she said in realization. I guided her to the center of the room, turned her around, facing away from me. I felt myself stirring as her firm body nuzzled against mine. I began undoing the buttons on the back of her white summer dress. She tried to help, but I stilled her hands. “Stop,” I whispered. “OK.” I gave her a solid whack on the bottom. She started, gasped, shocked. “The appropriate response is ‘Yes, Sir,’ ” I said. “Yes, Sir,” she said with a little smile, warming quickly to the game. I forced her small hands down to her sides then pushed the straps away from her shoulders and let the dress drop away. My hands slowly traced her smooth curves, feeling the arcs and turns of her body. Her skin was soft, like flower petals. When I undid her bra and slid her panties over her hips, they fell in a puddle around her bare feet and she slowly stepped out of them. I imagined the delights I was about to provide her, that she was about to provide to me. God, she was luscious. “Turn around,” I said. “I want to see you.” “Yes, Sir,” she said in a soft voice. I devoured her lithe body with my eyes. I touched every bit of her with my gaze, admired her as I would a work of art. “Eyes down.” “Yes, Sir,” she said again. She stared at the floor. Waiting. Not moving, except to breathe. I thought I still detected a hint of a smile. She timidly offered her arms and she trembled when I fastened black leather cuffs around her wrists. The posture collar I put on her was wide and rigid. She had to stretch her neck to accommodate its thickness. Her honey-colored hair cascaded around it, contrasting nicely with the black leather. Then I pulled her wrists behind her and clipped them together. Her eyes remained down. She was breathing harder and beads of perspiration broke out on her skin. She was still nervous; but she was getting excited. I slipped an index finger through the oversized ring on the collar and spun her around. I pulled her up on her tiptoes as my tongue probed between her lips, seeking her tongue, seeking to play with and explore her. I held her hard against my body, already wanting her. She returned my passion. The soft mounds of her breasts collapsed against me as we kissed. Then I broke off and lowered her down from her toes. She caught her breath, her eyes wide. She was stunned at my intensity. I moved behind her again. “You may kiss them,” I said, bringing a set of nipple clamps to her lips. The metal reflected her soft mouth as she kissed each clamp. I looped an end through the ring on her collar and let the clamps dangle between her small breasts. I brushed her nipples lightly with the tips of my fingers. Her aureoles crinkled and I rolled her nipples between my fingers, pulling and twisting to heighten their sensitivity.
She moaned as they hardened. I squeezed one of the clamps open and ever so slooooooowly placed it on her erect flesh. She sucked a breath in through her teeth, laid her head back against me, her hair falling against my chest. I flicked the clamp and lightly tugged it to make sure it was secure. She tensed, lifted one foot from the floor. “Ooowwwhhh…..” The sound was a mixture of pleasure with pain. I kissed her cheek to calm her. I was almost moved to words, but said nothing. When I put the clamp on her other nipple, she pushed against me, her bound hands grasping at my shirt. I did not know whether she was seeking relief from pain, or expressing pleasure. But my arms stayed around her, holding her, comforting her, cuddling her. I unclipped her wrists and pointed. “On your stomach,” I said. She approached the bed with slow steps, hesitating; but curious. “Yes, Sir.” She lay on the bed obediently, waiting for my next move. I chained her wrists to a metal ring in the headboard. She pulled at the chains experimentally but gave up when I sat on the edge of the bed. I rubbed her neck and shoulders reassuringly, massaging her. Her muscles were tense and I did what I could to relax her. She looked up at me as if to inquire what I would do next. Her trusting eyes touched me. It gave me a primal feeling. A man with his bound beauty. I ran my fingers up and down her back as softly as I could. It fascinated me to watch her smooth, soft skin quiver as my touch brushed across her like feathers. She shuddered every time I caressed her, jumped when I touched the inside of her slick thighs, breathed hard as my fingers drew close to her sex. But my fingers traveled unexpectedly down her legs. Suddenly, I opened her wide and chained her ankles. She was incredibly wet, swollen, her thighs glistening with moisture. She was spread eagled, on her stomach, the clamps biting into her nipples, her breasts flattened against the bed, unable to close her secret places to me now. At my mercy, serving her Master. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could just watch. I undressed and lay on top of her, skin to skin, her soft warmth underneath me. I was hard, probing her wetness. She tried to wiggle herself into position, urging me to enter. But I resisted, fighting off my deepest needs. Instead, I held a long black ribbon in front of her. Obediently, she lifted her head while I wrapped her eyes and tied a tight knot. “Lick your lips,” I whispered. I inserted the ball gag between her moist lips, pushed it deep in her mouth, behind her teeth. Her breath came in sharp bursts, sounds of excitement coming through the gag. “Good girl,” I told her as I rose. “Now raise your hips.” She elevated her slender hips as much as her bonds allowed. I smacked her ass with a large leather strap. She gasped, squirmed, screamed through her gag. Not from pain—the blow was not hard—but from shock….and delight. Another blow. Her hips flinched away. She moaned loudly. Her ass had just a hint of red. Once more. She squirmed. Then she lowered her hips to deny me access. Not because she wished me to stop but because I had not given her permission to cum. I knew she was approaching the brink and she did not wish to displease me. “Raise you hips.” She shook her head, protesting through the gag. “Offer yourself!” Her head drooped. Reluctantly, she raised her hips. This time the blow was hard. The sound of the leather cracked through the room. She recoiled, screamed through the gag. “One more for disobeying me.” The strap came down on her one last time. It painted a wide red mark on her ass. She flinched, jerked at the chains, and whimpered both from pain and from being denied her pleasure. She was trying to resist orgasm and I knew she could not hold out much longer. I let the strap go and lay on top of her again, sliding into position, preparing to penetrate her. Already, she was twisting, seeking me, yearning for me inside her. Her impatience amused me. I plunged into her. Instantly, she began moving her hips against me, barely allowing me to catch up with her rhythm. “Okay,” I whispered, “you may cum.” Almost before the words were out, her body tensed with inner explosions, her hips swayed, her muffled cries came through her gag as she pulled against her bonds, fingers grasping at her chains, toes pointing. I thrust and drove hard, prolonging her pleasure. Her orgasm went on for half a minute, a full minute maybe, perhaps more. I wondered how long she could last when suddenly she was spent. I felt her relax underneath me. She moaned, breathed heavily, her sweat-slicked, body pressed into the bed from my weight. I lingered on top of her, taking her in, just being with her. I ran my fingers through her tangled hair and kissed her lightly as her breathing calmed again. Then I began moving my hips; still inside her, her warmth and slickness engulfing me. She wriggled, inviting my pleasure, moved faster, her wet friction building immense pressures inside me. My breath came in short bursts. I closed my eyes tightly, gritted my teeth, my hips matching her rhythm, my hands tangled in her hair. It HAD to escape. I thrusted as fast and hard as I could and moaned loudly as my fluids spilled into her. Moments later, I was done, shaking, weak. I rose off her, steadying myself with my hands on her shoulders. I considered leaving her bound, but there was no point. She had given me her submission, the greatest gift a sub can give a Dom. So I released her from her bonds. She curled in my arms and I held her as we drowsed. When she was sound asleep, I slipped quietly out of bed and dressed. I opened my briefcase and checked the hi-res video camera hidden inside. It had worked perfectly. I put the video chip in my pocket. I scrawled a note telling her how much I had enjoyed my time with her. I also told her to put $100,000 in the briefcase and where to leave it if she did not want her husband and her TV audience to see the video on the internet I almost regretted doing it to her. I was crazy about her. But I was furious when I discovered she was married. I kissed her softly on the cheek. Then I left for home……
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