He opens the door.
Two of the hotel room's many lights glow against the backdrop of the city's magical night, somehow a different color of blue and black than his own. He looks out over it, taking the last piece of meat from a kabob and a sip from a cool local bottled water. “You were right about the kebab place: it's very good. Worth the extra few minutes.”
He steps onto the balcony and the air feels wonderful against his skin. Somehow, being higher up has made it feel that much cleaner, cooler as he tosses the skewer in the trash and takes the small bag of items he purchased to the “desk” before opening it up. “They had everything, well, almost, but you weren't kidding. It was the place to go.”
A bottle of massage oil is placed on the desk. Then lube, a second kind of lube, and a butt plug. Finally he takes out some restraints, soft and easy guards that go over the whole of the wrist to make the strain of them bite into the flesh less while still taking more control. He dangles those, holding them by the chain in the middle. “These, I think, you'll be very happy with. They should alleviate a lot of your concerns.”
Small, easy steps take our hero to the bed where she looks up at him with a mixture of concern and rage. Her hands are bound by traditional cuffs and her mouth stuffed with panties and a hand-towel from the bathroom. Her legs tied up with the simple sash of a complimentary robe, soaked in water to give it extra strength and tension. She moves, stuck on her stomach, like a fish out of water.
“Now, now, dear. I did the shopping for you. The least you can do is say thank you.”
She growls in response and he kills the bottle while looking her in the eyes, puts it down on the ground before undoing the now only soggy belt. As soon as it's off she kicks at him but he laughs and holds her legs still long enough to kiss her ankles. When she continues to resist, he pulls out the key to the handcuffs and waits for her to look over.
It takes a few minutes before she does. He sees her eyes look up at it, recognize it, and acknowledge. That's when she stops.
He mounts her from behind, the sheer panties she wears giving almost no resistance to his cock, hard through his jeans like a hammer. It's pushed against her intentionally as he takes her wrists, pulls them up gently. Then, as he undoes the lock, he puts the key aside on his end table as he continues to slide his cock up and down. “I'll unlock the other wrist in a second but first we–”
There is violence in every thrash and kick she gives from beneath him, but he's in too good of a position, too strong and too ready for it. He just holds her wrists until it passes. “There we are. Now as I was saying, I'll undo the other one in a second but first? We're going to try something.”
Our hero kicks up off her, rises up, and gives her ass a faint love slap before offering her a hand up. She looks at it, then him, and back to his hand before she takes it. When he pulls her up, she gasps, almost like she weren't made of anger and frustration. “I'm going to take the fabric out of your mouth now. I'd appreciate having all my fingers after I do.”
First comes the hand towel, folded in half. Then the second pair of panties she had produced from her purse. He tosses both aside and then looks at her, hair a mess from being thrashed around. Indentations on her face from pressing into the mattress. Torso covered, breasts barely contained, by his dress shirt leading down to sheer panties and a dangling pair of handcuffs, half-clasped.
And more beautiful than any woman he'd ever seen, even in that moment.
“I could have bitten off three of your fingers just now.”
“Two at most. If you were lucky.”
“If you were lucky, My Mister, it would have only been one. And when I sewed it back on later, I would not have done such a good job so if you ever tried this again, I could grab you by it. Twist it. Make you scream for me.”
“Don't you do enough of that as is?” He glides to the bathroom door. “Come here.”
She gives him a curious look before taking light and searching steps to him. Then he grabs her from behind, takes her handcuffed wrist and moves it up behind her back. When she's locked into that, he puts a hand beneath her throat, moves her into to the bathroom, and faces her towards the vanity.
There the pair stands, her shorter than him by a fair bit, but the two of them side by side in less than perfectly pressed clothing. Their eyes and faces giving the signs of fatigue. Real, and earnest. “What do you see?” He asks as he releases her wrist but keeps her throat so he can press her into him.
“Someone who greatly overestimates himself.”
“What do you see?”
She looks over the reflection. “Why did you leave me, in the room? I would have come with you, I would have been more pleased. I—wanted to go.”
“I wanted to show you that I'm not putting you on a pedestal. One of, I can only assume, approximately a thousand fears you have about me.”
“And you will quell them all? My big, strong hunter?” She leans her head back against his chest.
“I don't know if I silence a single one.” He strokes her hair with his free hand as her body rests against his, handcuff dangling in the mirror image. “What do you see?”
“Is this some test?”
“No, that's your job. I wouldn't take it away from you. What do you see?”
“You could make me answer.” She pouts out her lower lip in a way he's recognized as playful. “Make me tell you with your big, strong hands.”
“Tell me, Little Miss.”
They look their counterparts over in the mirror, then themselves. There is silence as they scan. After a moment she sighs, takes his free hand in hers and wraps them both around her as she hums. “I see something to be afraid of. I see an equal. What do you see?”
“More or less the same.” He tightens his hold on her until she is closer to him. “Though, in all honesty, I may slim that definition down to 'danger.'”
She moans at this, then tilts her head back to kiss his chin. When he laughs, he sees her smile, teeth sharp as lies appearing as she does the same again and again. She continues the process of tracing his chin in kisses as he slides his hands down from his grip on her to inside her panties and, as he bends to take them off her, she kneels to keep kissing him, only pausing to step out of the panties.
“I might not even be wet for you,” she says with large, rapidly blinking eyes. “I mean, you hurt me so. Treat me so poorly.”
“Yeah?” He says it as he undoes the buttons of his own shirt.
“Mmmhmm, you are all the classic signs of an abuser. You leave me with scars inside and out and here I am, this poor little thing to be treasured."
He pulls her back to his face by her hair so he can plant a long, easy kiss on her lips. Their tongues entangle and wrestle, back and forth, into each others' mouths as hands roam over bruised and dented flesh.
When he puts his hands in between the buttons of the shirt she wears and pulls it open, spraying a hail of buttons around the bathroom, she doesn't even break her kiss, but reaches into his jeans to tug on his cock. To grab it by its base and pull him to the shower.
Despite the heat of the day, she's turned the water up to near-scalding until steam clouds their senses like a night of drinking. She holds her head beneath the water before bringing her silky, wet hair up in a thrash, throwing a string of water at him as she looks over her shoulder like she's innocent and pure.
“You're ruining my shirts,” he whispers into her ear as he moves the head of cock just into her pussy.
“You should feel lucky I am letting you off that easy.”
Her wicked grin and sultry tone vanish as he shoves inside her. “Would you look at that,” he says in response to her moan. “Turns out you were wet all along.”
“The shower, dear sir. An older and more giving lover than you will ever be.”
Then she bends forward more, hands go up against ancient-looking tiles and palms sink against them like she's under arrest. For a moment, there is only the sound of the water and the clinking of the handcuffs against the tile. He places a hand against the wall, right next to hers, and uses the other to hold her to him by her waist. “I want you like crazy.”
“You have me.”
“I want more.”
“That's your curse.” She laughs as she pushes her ass out, bends over more, slides herself against his cock. “You have me, you want more. Be happy with the moment.”
He grunts his acknowledgment, pulls out of her and moves back in until there is a pleasing, slapping sound of their skin making contact. And this time, she surprises him with a gasp, a laugh, something earnest. Or earnest sounding.
His arm pulls her in and he pushes his cock into her again. She laughs once more, this time her hand finding his against the tile wall, coming over it, squeezing.
Pushing. Shoving. Shunting as hard as he can but still she laughs, shakes her ass against him and, as she steadies herself, she even laughs through an orgasm. When she collects herself, she laughs again and looks back as best she can. “Are you going to fuck me, or what? That was good. Maybe all you needed was practice.”
There is a soft, easy roar that comes from him as he continues to fuck her in earnest, using his cock like a weapon, to subdue her. He pushes with everything he has into her tight, sleek pussy as he's done before, as he's used to make her easy, empty, still.
But she only laughs. Encourages him. Spurs him on with light and gentle jeers until she stops, cranes her head back to the ceiling, and screams as she cums once more.
Enthralled, enraged, he begins to push into her again before she can recover. For a moment, she is whimpering, writhing, still. But after she gains her strength back, she resumes laughing, encouraging and calling out to him for more. More. More!
She cums a final time and that's when he feels it, her pussy getting so tight that he can hardly move. “Don't stop now,” she calls out. “Take what's yours. Go. Now.”
And he does. He fucks her for all he's worth and barely hears the worlds flow out of her. Some mocking, some cooing and little between. When he's about to cum, she pushes against him, shoves him back, and he pulls out only to spray over her ass cheeks, quickly washed away by the hot water.
“Mmmm.” She makes the moan as she stretches, slides up the wall and turns back to him. Grabbing his still-hard cock, she strokes it twice until he shudders. “Oh, don't be afraid. I was only showing you that I wasn't putting you on a pedestal.”
Then there's a single wink, a flick of her wrist to turn off the shower, and a quick step out to exit.
He stands there. Gasping, shuddering, holding onto the railing to catch his breath for a moment.
The clang that could only be the sound of her handcuff hitting the tile echoes in the bathroom.
“Well, are you going to take me to bed or what?”
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/35nlfh/the_sun_the_girl_and_goodbye_ch6_mflight
More! You leave me greedy for more! :)
Literally two more chapters up.