"Wake-Up Call"
by
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.
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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 -
[Note: this story is protected by international copyright law,
all rights not expressly waived are reserved by its author.]
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