I am still asleep when he slips into my room with one of the two hotel passcards. As if in a dream, I hear the soft click of the door as it unlocks. I must have been listening for that sound all night. I think I dozed off again after the click because I wake suddenly when he crawls into bed with me, the temperature of his skin several degrees cooler than mine. His hands roam over my back, my legs, eventually finding the warm spot between my legs. Moaning, I press my body against his as I shudder and shiver. I get up to use the bathroom and he follows me, hiding a plastic bag behind his back. I ask but he won’t tell me what he has, his eyes dancing like a kid’s on Christmas. As I sit down to urinate, he urinates too, splashing the golden liquid over my breasts and belly. He tries to get my face too but I keep turning away. He runs out of ammo this time but playfully promises he WILL pee on my face and down my throat before I get to leave.
When I am finished he allows me to stand up and leads me to the shower. I step in but he doesn’t turn on the water. Instead he opens the plastic bag and I see that it contains a length of clothesline. As he pulls the rope out I can see that there is something heavier at the bottom of the bag. He ties both my hands to the shower curtain rod and proceeds to bind my breasts with some of the remaining rope, leaving the other end in a coil on the floor. He affixes a handful of clothespins to my nipples and my breasts, then he leaves me there like that and goes in the other room. I can’t even hear what he is doing because of the exhaust fan in the bathroom. My nipples are throbbing but that isn’t my main concern at the moment. I feel more alone and more vulnerable than I have in years. What if he leaves me here like this for the housekeeping staff to come and find?? Just when I think I might cry he comes back. He touches my cheek gently and I wonder if he can see the emotions in my face. My eyes are wet and my cheeks flushed. I can see myself in the huge mirror over the sink. I avoid his gaze but he is smiling, pleased with his work, pleased with his little whore he says. His praise makes me happy and suddenly it is all worth it.
Next he is arranging some towels on the floor. He is drinking coffee and offers me a sip. I let him raise the styrofoam cup to my lips, hoping it does not spill on my naked chest. It doesn’t. He finishes the coffee and kisses me with his warm lips. His eyes dancing with anticipation, he sits on the toilet. I am filled with a sense of dread. What is he going to do now? I think I might be sick. He is grunting and I hear it plop into the water. As he stands up and goes to fish it out of the toilet, he remarks that it’s too bad he already tied me up because he was planning to make me do it. I close my eyes tight and hold my breath as he gently smears the shit on my face. I can smell it and it makes me feel like gagging so I try not to inhale. I am hoping the clothespins will be in his way and he will remove them but no, he touches my swollen red breast and then pulls a bit on the clothespins, making me cry out. He says, “Oh, are they sore?” with this evil little taunt,
as if he didn’t know. Now I am getting angry. My tits hurt, my hands are falling asleep, and I am full of shit too. Looking over his shoulder I can see my new war paint in the mirror. He says I look pretty. He says now I am his. I turn away from his touch, his eyes, my head ready to explode with emotions. I do not want him to see me cry. I don’t like feeling this vulnerable. It scares me. I refuse to look at him and he says ok if that’s what I want, he will leave me alone. He leaves the room again and I can barely contain my tears until he gets out the door. The tears run down my cheeks and while I am glad he cannot see me, I am also sad that he left. I don’t like being alone, I don’t like this vulnerable feeling, my hands and breasts are sore and I am smeared with his shit. I feel so degraded and small, but yet I feel his love for me stronger than I ever have. It fills me so full I can’t contain it and the tears are running down my cheeks. I am confused with all these conflicting emotions and I don’t really understand it. Why does he want to treat me this way if he loves me? The tears fall silently, my brain trying to figure it all out.
I see him in the mirror approaching the door and I don’t want him to see how vulnerable I am. What is he going to do to me next? I bow my head and hide my eyes but he tenderly puts his hand under my chin and lifts my face to look at him. I watch his face carefully as he sees my tears. For an instant he is surprised but he smiles warmly. ‘Aww sweetie’ is all he says but the dam is broken and the tears come faster, my chin quivering. He kisses me softly, wiping tears and shit from my face. He takes off the clothespins first, caressing my breasts as he does so, and then begins untying me. Once my hands are free I put them around his neck, holding tight as I start sobbing on his shoulder. He leads me back to bed and covers me with a sheet. I don’t want to let go, holding his hand tight as he promises he’ll be right back. He is in the bathroom, running some water. He comes back with a warm washcloth and a towel. He is washing my face and then my chest, telling me how happy he is that I belong to him, soothing me with his touch and his voice.
When I am clean again, he lays me back on the bed and takes me, gently, lovingly at first. The tears, having been brought to the surface, continue to leak from my eyes as I cum. Over and over I cum; he uses his fingers, his mouth, his whole fist, and some other objects too but at the moment it doesn’t even occur to me to ask what he is doing down there, so absorbed with the sensations. (found out later it was a yellow squash). I feel myself slipping away from reality and I don’t notice anything around me, only the sensations of my body as I cum again and again. Like a drug, I only want more but he notices before I do that it is getting more difficult and I am thoroughly exhausted. He snuggles up next to me, touching me, kissing me, holding me as I come back to the real world, the hotel room, the clock, the wetness oozing from between my legs. I feel totally used and spent, and I remark that I am going to be pretty sore in a couple hours. We talk for awhile, he brushes my hair, and I lay on his chest, inhaling the scent of him, drawing it inside me so I can keep it after he leaves.
He is going to leave. I keep glancing at the clock the way one can’t help looking at a nasty bloody accident. I am laying on his arm, so relaxed I am almost asleep, when he moves his arm and takes a deep breath and I know it is time for him to go. Suddenly everything comes back at once like a flood; angry, sad, jealous, afraid, wanting to hold on, what if I just stood in front of the door, how can I make him stay? and I hold tight, my stomach tight with panic, pleading, the tears coming back, hiding my face as he gets dressed, I can’t watch.
Him fully dressed, hat, jacket, cell phone attached to his belt; me naked and crying; I hold him tight, breathing the ragged breath of someone exhausted by overwhelming emotion. He tries to comfort me with his words, he’ll be back tomorrow, he wipes the tears from my cheek and I lick the saltwater from his fingers as he goes to the door.
– The End –