Executive II

I think I must have dozed off - the room was quite warm despite my nakedness - but I was woken by the rattle of crockery and the sound of voices in the next room. I lay absolutely still, terrified in case someone should see me through the slightly open bedroom door: but as I could not see out I suppose that they, whoever they were, could not see in. More noises off and then the sound of the outer door of the suite opening and closing and silence descended. But not quite. Someone was still there.

The bedroom door opened and Melissa strolled in bearing an ice bucket and two glasses. "Hi there, glad you could stay," she grinned, setting the bucket and glasses down on the side table.

She bent over me and felt me over briskly, particularly my shoulders and calves, and seemed to be satisfied with what she found. I realised that she had been checking to see if I was stiff or cramped, but the ropes, while secure, had some play in them and I had hardly noticed them whilst I dozed.

Again she inserted her index finger in me and I was embarrassed to find how little resistance she felt. She ran her finger around her lips and followed round with her tongue, delicately savouring the flavour. "Mmm tasty, darling. And how am I tasting to you? You'll probably need a refill soon."

She pulled the champagne bottle out of the ice bucket and began to untwist the wire. I gave a muffled squeak as an ice cold droplet of water splashed on my bare stomach. She paused, smiled and stopped to watch the next droplet form and to drop on to my thigh. I watched as she moved the bottle a couple of inches, studying the slowly forming drop and freeing it with a tiny shake which sent it arcing through the air to land like a tiny arctic tear right on my warm and waiting sex. I jumped and squealed as best I could, again.

Satisfied with her target shooting, Melissa returned her attention to the champagne bottle and the cork hissed out with a tiny bubbling gush, every drop caught expertly in a glass held waiting, inches above my cringing stomach. "Don't worry, darling," she murmured, "careless champagne showers are for the ordinaries. We have more discerning tastes."

I suddenly realised how thirsty I was, and licked my lips as best I could under the tape gag: she had, after all, brought in two glasses. Sure enough she put the glass down and took a pair of scissors from the drawer of the bedside cabinet. She clipped through the circle of tape and pulled it free. I pushed the sodden balled up knickers out of my mouth and she picked them up between thumb and forefinger and spread out their chewed up remains.

"Well, you've made quite a mess of these, haven't you?" she observed. "Looks like you owe me a pair of knickers, my little sweet. I'll collect on those, later."

She picked up the champagne glass and brought it up to my lips. I strained to lift my head to contact the angle of the glass, but as she tried to tilt it slowly to my eager mouth I jerked and gulped greedily, sending splashes of ice cold champagne around. "Tsk, tsk," she tutted, withdrawing the glass. "Can't you control yourself."

"I'm sorry, I'm thirsty," I muttered, illogically embarrassed.

"You should have said," she teased me, "why didn't you call room service when I was out?"

She got up and left the room, returning a few moments later with bottle of mineral water, cloudy with condensation. "Would this be more to your taste?" She touched the cold damp bottle to my hot cheek, tempting me with it.

I licked my lips as she cracked open the cap and took a little sip.

"Don't worry, darling, this *is* for you, but we have to solve your little spillage problem, don't we."

She put the bottle down and slowly unbuttoned her blouse. The blouse was discarded, followed by her bra. I stared, mesmerised as she picked up the bottle of water and rubbed it slowly around her breasts, the cold touch making her nipples stand up tautly. She perched on the bed beside me and bent over me holding the bottle of water precisely in position, tilting it so that one or two drops fell free and splashed into my open mouth.

As I opened my mouth further, eagerly, she move the bottle so a trickle of water ran over her left breast and ran into my mouth. I drank.

She lowered herself on to me, keeping up a steady dribble of water. Warm breast and cool water filled my mouth and I took them. And as I suckled I gave away a little of myself to her.

She gently withdrew her breast, whispering "that's all from that one, little one.." Her hand brushed my eyes closed and I heard the chink of the bottle, felt her breast brush my lips. I opened my mouth to take her, to take from her and she fed me, sweet flesh and rich champagne. My thirst was sated and I was hers.

But as I was relaxing and floating, a little light headed from the champagne, she was becoming aroused again. She rolled aside, off the bed and dabbed herself dry with a towel, then returned to sit beside me. Her hands stroked the inside of my thighs, and I felt her nails catch slightly on my skin. The nails danced and traced patterns around me, teasing and scratching, wandering casually on the border between a tickle and a pain. Her long hair swept across my stomach as she bent low and I felt the small spurts of hot breath against me.

Her lips formed a small circle and closed over my inner pleasures as delicately as kissing an orchid. A sharp spasm of pure delight passed over me as her lips pulled me free and her tongue touched my inner core. As she probed and touched in a swaying elegant rhythm of lingual caress I began to move to her time tensing against my bonds, twisting my hips in a vain attempt to squeeze my thighs together, to press against the delicious buzz of sensation, bring it under my control and grow it to the conclusion I longed for. As my moment grew nearer my hips jerked convulsively upward with a cracking counter arch of my back, searching for a finale.

Melissa bit the inside of my thigh sharply and I collapsed with a little scream. As I rocked from side to side and tried more desperately than ever to regain my momentum she bit the inside of the other one to bring me down further. I whimpered a little in frustration.

She kissed me softly and I tasted my own pungency on her lips. "Before I give that to you, you've got to give a little something to me.." she caressed my hair, "..that's only fair, isn't it? A little token to show you're mine?"

My head buzzed and my body pulsed with heat and fire, desire and need. I was hers, of course I was, whatever she wanted; just take it and take me. She stroked my stomach with the strap and smiled her distant smile.

I felt as if I was receding away. Unreality. My stomach flinched under the strap's oily, sinuous caress and I wanted to squeeze my legs together to hold my water. Melissa drank in my fear and feasted on my vulnerability. She pinched my breast sharply and dug her nails into me, five bayonet points testing before they tore into me. I cringed. Her expression was ice as she slapped my face lightly, side to side: put down the strap across me and looked into my eyes as she delicately tortured my nipples between thumb and forefinger.

I squeezed my eyes closed to blank out the hollow disappointment and the pain, and as I felt the pain in my breasts subside, I heard her laugh. I looked at her, bewildered as she kissed me lightly on the forehead, on the cheeks and on the subsiding discomfort in my nipples.

"It's all right, my little precious, I was only joking. I see you're much too much of a beginner for a taste of my strap." She kissed me full and lingeringly. "I won't ask you for more than a taste of my hairbrush, my little novice. " She stroke my cheek softly. "Is that all right with you: just a little spanking with my hairbrush, hmm?"

I was so grateful that my eyes misted over with the emotion. I wanted to hug her, thank her for understanding, for giving my the chance to give what I was able offer. She bent over me and released the rope that held my wrists and I flew up into her arms. We shared a long, long moment of close bonding and then she eased herself out of my embrace, freed my ankles and manoeuvred me to the edge of the bed. She nuzzled at my neck and I felt her right hand slip between my legs, massaging me gently. The warmth of her caresses spread through me.

She paused for a moment to take a long silk scarf, knot it above her left elbow and tie the other end to my right wrist. Still massaging me gently she pushed me down over her knee and crooked her leg around mine, pinning me in position. Her fingers probed and teased at me and I felt myself lifting my hips and thrusting towards her touch. As her right hand withdrew she reached under me to continue the massage and my bound wrist was drawn towards her, pinioning me securely across her lap. I wriggled with pleasure as her fingers curled deep into me and her free hand massaged my flushed backside, beginning a light rain of spanks pattering down.

I began to buck under her caresses, looking for a release and the blows grew harder, the slap and sting holding me back form my approaching climax. Her probing fingers centred on my most sensitive pleasure zones and the spanking stopped. My climax built up hot and hard, insistent power surging up and out.

I screamed at the pain that seared through me as the hairbrush cracked down on my buttocks. I writhed and jerked as her fingers goaded me towards a climax and her hairbrush brutally slapped it out of my grasp. I howled in rage and frustration, in pain and suspended pleasure unbearably prolonged. I pulled and struggled and yelled and begged to no avail as she led me helpless and captive along the knife edge of the abyss able to neither fall nor fly.

The maelstrom of sensation overwhelmed me and my struggles became unco-ordinated the pain of each blow receding in a haze. I heard, or felt, her saying to me "Hold this to you and remember it. Nothing will ever be like your first time."

The hairbrush blows receded, my legs knotted and locked, every muscle hardening into a frenzied rictus as I bore down on her tormenting, ecstatic touch as if I would reduce her hand to a crushed and bloodied pulp. My back arched further, far further than I would ever have thought possible and I screamed: an animal's snarling yell of victory pain and defiance as I scratched and clawed my way to a triumphant climax. Her climax. Orchestrated, arranged and delivered to her timetable.
Executive planning.

I was drained and wrung out, in a fog that neither the ache in my rear nor any external sensation could penetrate. I floated on to the bed and curled up in my private paradise pool oblivious to the world.

Aeons later, it seemed, I was wakened by a sliver of smoked salmon dangled tantalisingly across my lips. "It's time for eating," she murmured.

And she smiled her private smile.

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RRW

[To be continued]

 

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