Tuesday, July 27, 2010

A week, a night, a gift - beaten, peed on, and treasured (10)

I can't remember now if I sat in the car a bit, taking it all in, before going in to register. If so, it wouldn't have been for very long. This was another of our furiously hot weekends. I was glad that none of my responsibilities required me to be outside.

Checking into a hotel always puts me in a slightly different place, even when the room will not be the site of sexual activities of any flavor.

The room is rarely the site of sexual activities of any flavor.

But I always feel as if I am in a movie. Or in some way playing a part outside of my normal life. But this time was more intense. (Damn, my cunt is twitching madly as I write about this...) I had been given orders. I had been given instructions. I had made this reservation immediately on his departure the Saturday before, while still naked. I had sat there naked on my caned butt and gone on line and made these reservations exactly as the sadist had specified. And then e-mailed him to say I had done it. And then later run into DC in the sweltering heat to buy champagne. Cheap champagne, yes. But champagne nevertheless. And knowing what it was meant for.

I checked in, confirming that the room was on the quiet side of the building. I was friendly and polite and you might almost have thought relaxed but of course that was all a mask.

I was afraid of the room.

I went back to the car to fetch my bags as there was only the one entrance, and negotiated my way through the various people who were in town for 2 different weddings. The town doesn't offer a whole lot of hotel choices.

I went back to the car and collected my small, wheeled suitcase with the green floral cloth upholstery, and the soft-sided blue cooler, and my MacBook in its purple raiment and living in a bag from a music conference, and a cloth shopping bag from one of the music camps I go to and negotiated my way up to the 5th floor (I think it was the 5th floor...) and with my chest growing tighter while I headed down the hall, I finally came to the door.

I could hardly breathe.

I was afraid of the room.

I wasn't quite sure what would happen there, but knew it would be special. I knew it would be intense. And I was sure there would be some sort of... something... hanging in the air in that room even before anything began. Even before he arrived. I knew I had to bring in my things and then get out of there. Not just to be sure I was back with enough time to prepare for his eventual arrival but so I didn't scare myself half silly waiting around in the room prior to starting the process of dedicating myself to the evening's service by taking off my clothes.

This is hard.
This is a struggle.

I am starting to float away... he is always warning me against floating away when I am supposed to be paying attention to his cock.

I can't remember exactly what I did. I must have put my things down in some sort of place, and put my little suitcase up on one of those folding holders they have in hotels, and taken out my dress and changed into the dress and left the room to walk in the steam bath heat the 3 blocks or so to someplace I thought I might have dinner.

Exiting the elevator, I was nearly creamed by one of the 20-something male wedding guests who couldn't be bothered to let me out even when he realized I was there.

The whole time, I felt like I was in a trance.

I was there
in that town
after a year and a half
of wondering
and fantasizing
and waiting
and worrying
and then thanking
and working
and driving
and trembling.

I was there.
And within a few hours it would truly begin.

And now I'm afraid I must leave you hanging again. I was a very good girl today and am allowed to cum tonight, after which I must report. So I want plenty of time for both. Because I really did earn this orgasm. I was a very, very good girl today and he was very, very happy. Aren't you pleased for me? Except that I am so horribly aroused that I'm not sure how long I can drag it out. I'm afraid that the minute I stroke my sweet little clitoris with the middle finger of my right hand, spreading the moisture that has been lingering there all day, I will explode. Listen for it.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

Oh, the fear of the room. Yes. I understand that. I feel that. Thank you. I've never identified it as fear, but that's exactly what it is. Even after so long, for The Man and me. Sometimes, I'm afraid of whatever I put on. But, I glory in it. I'll bet you did - do - too. And I'll wait, patiently, for Part 393, or 11, or whatever. I hope the explosion is terrific fun, and I'm glad you were so excellently comported as to earn such a reward. How delectable. - jcn

charlotte said...

Dear og,
i know that fear and terror mixed with that wonderfully excited anticipation. You described it beautifully...something i had been unable to describe until now. thank you

nancy said...

Dear OG,
What a saga!
The fear you speak of is palpable and makes me a bit queasy.
How on earth did you manage to go outside? Aside from being told?

Brave and wonderful you are indeed.

marianne said...

I hope your well-earned and deserved orgasm was explosive!