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From: "rdodger" <rajahdodger@gmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Hotel Meeting with his Mistress, by Rajah Dodger [Fm bdsm]
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Date: Fri, 06 Oct 2006 01:10:02 -0400
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     Hotel Meeting with his Mistress, by Rajah Dodger
<rdodger@hotmail.com>, Copyright (c) 1997.  All rights reserved, except
that electronic not-for-profit reproduction rights only are explicitly
granted with the stipulation that this authorship and permission note
must remain attached.

     Abstract: He meets his Mistress for dinner and to become her
dessert treat.

     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 textfile 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, and 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
that 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 shoulderblades.  "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 cuntwalls 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, and 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.

***** {END} ***** Completed 1997-09-08, 3543 words

Copyright (c) 1997 Rajah Dodger (rdodger@hotmail.com)

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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