This will be the start of a series, (if people like it) so please leave feedback so I know whether or not to continue. This one is long cause of its introductory nature. The next will pick up super fast. /—————————————-
This whole week has been so dull. Nothing eventful, nothing interesting, just so utterly unexciting. Work, meeting after meeting, on repeat each day. I’m thankful it’s Friday night and I won’t have to check an email or sit in on another meeting until Monday. It certainly pays the bills, but it is tediously draining. That’s why I spend most Friday nights at the Hall.
I was headed here regardless, but when I noticed you walking there, too, I felt a bit of my boredom slip away. Few people know about the Hall, but those who do often are interesting in ways of their own. I continue to make my way there, glad to feel intrigued, studying you as you walk. You’re about 12 feet ahead of me. I don’t close the distance any. I try to guess why you are going to the Hall; wondering if it is also to get a little excitement after your own dull week.
You walk well in your black wedges. Your long auburn hair is wavy and bounces ever so slighty behind you as you continue along down the corridor.
The Hall is not easy to find, but once you’re in the hallway to it, there’s only one path to follow to its entrance a few minutes away; hence the name. It leads downwards and twists every so often, giving me time to wonder about your motives– and stare at your truly lovely ass.
I didn’t see you walk in the corridor before me; you must have just entered the doorway just before I did– Perhaps as I was setting my empty glass on the bar?
Twenty seconds into our shared-yet-distant walk, you glance over your shoulder to see whose footsteps have joined you; quickly averting your eyes you keep going, but not before I see a slight blush flush your cheeks. Even in the less than optimal lighting in the corridor, I could tell you’re beautiful.
Beautiful, yet not in a conventional way. Not model beautiful, and not girl-next-door pretty either– yet in a striking, double-take-but-can’t-fully-place-why kind of way.
You push into the Hall’s large, heavy wooden right door before I can even attempt a chivalrous effort.
You must be familiar with the Hall– If you know about it, you’ve been before for one reason or another. And I want to know yours; why you also ducked into the obscure prohibition-era hallway so few realize exists in the basement of that overpriced bar. Those who do notice it by chance just assume it’s for employees and avoid it. The long tunneling hallway that ultimately brings you here is always an adventure of its own. Often you’re alone, calmly trying to quell the anticipation around the excitement you’re about to get yourself into. I like to gather my thoughts, but I spent all of my wall trying to figure you out.
I enter through the wooden doors mere seconds after you, nodding a greeting to the attendant. I continue my observation of you– now in far better lighting. There are a dozen or so enhancements on the elegant table before you. You slowly meander from option to option. I watch you for two solid minutes, looking them over. The attendant pretends not to notice how longer your taking. The service here is phenomenal.
“Just pick one!,” my mind screams after another minute.
You don’t even have to pick one, but honestly, you may as well for a full, augmented experience. At the Hall, the enhancers are like an extra shot of whatever your evening needs— some act as a sedative, others are stimulants, some increase physical sensations, some increase dopamine levels, some act as muscle relaxers, some do a couple of those things safely in moderation. It’s like adding a flavor shot to your coffee; you come in and pick your poison, and go on with whatever you have planned for your evening here.
I watch you mill about the variety of tasteless dissolving patches. I’m trying to figure out why you’re here; what you’re into. Your indecisiveness is annoying me further every second. The attendant is standing patiently, awaiting your decision.
It’s driving me crazy. You just have to pick something, anything. Whatever sounds like a nice addition to your night’s endeavors. They all are fitting in one way or another here in the Hall, it just depends on your preference or what you’re feeling. But you just won’t.
I decide to act on it.
The attendant’s been eyeing me since I walked in mere moments after you. Until now I’ve stood off to the side to give you your privacy at the table. I approach the attendant, and say confidently, “She’ll have the sensation heightener.”
You turn around shocked and meet my eyes, but you say nothing as the attendant’s gloved hand holds out a tiny clear dissolving paper to you. You smile at him kindly before turning your gaze to me, sticking out your tongue for him to place it on. The attendant blushes, placing it on your outstretched pink tongue. You don’t break eye contact with me as you pull it into your palette.
My mind can’t help but wonder what else that perfectly pink tongue likes on it.
I hold out my arm, gesturing the way forward. “Shall we?” I can tell you have a few questions for me as well. You smirk and oblige, taking my arm in yours and allowing me to lead the way. I lead us through the enhancement room and into the Hall’s lounge.
“So the sensation heightener, huh? Have you had it before,” you ask me.
“Because I was bothered by your indecision,” I say honestly, leading us deeper into the the lounge. “And yeah, it’s often a good sidekick. Have you had it before?”
You think about your answer before giving it to me; I wonder why the need for pause. “Mm-no, first time,” you say.
The Hall is vast, it opens into a private retreat of sorts. It’s notorious for being an escape for people who need release. A type of release that isn’t considered your standard. This isn’t a seedy motel meet up, yet it’s almost more taboo, but certainly nothing morbid. There are suites and spas here, as well as dozens and dozens of wildly varying play rooms. There is truly something for everyone to indulge in at the Hall.
“I was just weighing my options,” you say Innocently a moment after the brief silence. You pull your shoulders into a shrug and tilt your head to the side, tossing your wavy locks in the process. “How precious,” I think.
“Well, what do you hope to get from the Hall this evening? Knowing that should have made picking an enhancer easy,” I retort.
“That’s the thing,” you say. “I don’t know what I want.”
“More indecisiveness, shocking,” I think to myself. I know precisely why I’m here. No one comes to the Hall without knowing what they want. I’m ready to leave you here to get a drink or wander off to find whatever it is you want so I can do the same.
“Well in a place like this, you really ought to know,” I say, not doing my best to hide my annoyance at your indecision.
“There is such an expanse of options here,” I start, “You should at least be able to decide based on avoiding what you know you don’t like. With options for your night spanning from savoring pure vanilla to being used, bruised and beaten, you really ought to know what you do and don’t want or like,” I finish my lecture.
You’re blushing deeply and you’ve turned your gaze downwards, now looking to your darkly painted toes peeping out of your heels.
I don’t understand why you’re taking an easy choice and muddling it. I pull my arm away lightly and turn to leave in pursuit of the plans I’ve made for my own evening’s pleasure.
“But I don’t,” you blurt out as I step away.
I turn to face you, annoyed and and a little confounded at this. I’m ready to continue my way to the elevator when you I hear you say as a question, “Help me learn?”
I soften, and answer, “I certainly can’t tell you what you do and do not like.” You’re lucky you’re beautiful, I think to myself. If you weren’t so easy to look at in that charcoal gray body-contoured dress, I wouldn’t have bothered to turn around at all.
“No,” you say hesitantly meeting my eyes again, “But you could show me?”
You posed it as a question and don’t seem to want me to leave. I wonder if the sensation heightener has started to slip into your bloodstream.
“Oh, I sure could,” I think to myself. I grin and decide to drop my previous evening plans and start them over now. “so this is your first time taking the heightener?” I ask despite knowing the answer.
“Yes, I wasn’t really sure what all that stuff on the table was, honestly,” you say.
I struggle to fully comprehend this. Everyone who comes to the Hall knows the ways of the Hall. Some people end up blackout drunk from mixing certain enhancers– especially if they pair them with drinking, pills, or other vices.
“How’s that? Was your last Hall visit your first and you blacked out?,” I ask, ready to leave again– That’s not the kind of night I’m looking for.
“I’ve never been here,” you say quickly and start to ramble. “I just followed the hallway. I was curious, and when I realized someone was headed this way behind me I figured I was headed somewhere interesting. I mean, you didn’t seem sketchy, and I know you caught my eye when I turned to look at you shortly after you entered the passageway too.”
Guilty. She did catch me looking –fucking staring, really– at her curves wrapped so tightly in that dress.
You continue before I can get a word in, “I figured a sharp-dressed man like you was headed somewhere fancy. You didn’t seem threatening, so I continued onwards.”
“Oh, how wrong you are,” my mind growls.
I smile and verbalize almost condescendingly, “So you don’t know where you are. Or what you just ingested. Or even why you took it?”
You look so lost taking all this in. I’m enjoying it.
“I think I am starting to understand where I am,” you say somewhat triumphantly, “And you told me what I took before I took it, and I do know why I let it melt away on my tongue.”
“Oh you do, huh?,” I think.
“And why’s that?” I ask you, genuinely interested.
“Because you practically told me to,” you say with an air of confidence before your voice trails off more coyly. “You seemed so sure,” you say more quietly, almost like you meant it for yourself.
I try to stop myself from thinking what else you’ll do if I tell you to.
“Shall I drop you off at the spa? Or one of the suites, perhaps?” I ask, letting you take the out if you want it.
Honestly, I’ll have a great night regardless; I have plans to meet a blonde and brunette pair in a little less than an hour in my suite. They don’t disappoint, and they not only know what they want, but what I want.
“I told you I don’t know what I want,” you plead and tug at my hand. “Help me find out.”
Fuck it, I’ll bite. “You do know what you want. Tell me.” I demand.
“I don’t…,” you bite your lip.
I turn to leave.
“I just want it to be good,” you say in a small voice; losing your pleading tone.
We haven’t even done anything and already you sound defeated; I kind of like it. I feel my cock twitch.
“Shoot, practically anything will feel good when that enhancer kicks in,” I respond.
I know it has already, but pretend not to notice the slight squirm you’ve developed, as if your clothes now feel just a bit too constricting, and the way you can’t seem to stop rubbing your thumb against my palm as you wait for a response.
You nod at what I’ve said, but won’t look me in the eyes. The sudden desperation I see in you solidifies my decision.
“Come on then, darling,” I say pulling you toward the elevator, trying to hide both my dismay at your seemingly unceasing indecisiveness and the deep hunger you’re stirring in me.
I send the girls a text, cancelling on them for the evening. They send me a selfie of them pouting together. I make a mental note to reschedule with them and their sad, stuck out lower lips.
You come along, your first step seeming nervous. I hope I didn’t just throw away a damn good time for something that’ll prove disappointing after an already unexciting week.
I backtrack to the thought of what else you may do if told to. I mash the elevator’s up button and wrap my arm around your waist. I casually trace my thumb up along your hip bone. I move lightly across the fabric of your dress, knowing that every physical sensation will be different for you right now thanks to the little square you so willingly let disappear on your tongue. I plan on dragging this elevator ride out. I smirk as a handsome guy and a gorgeous woman wander out through the elevator doors and into the longue, freeing it up for us.
I pull my arm from your side to your lower back, coaxing you in. I hit the button for the 17th floor and crowd you against the corner; forcing your body into contact with the mirrored walls. I want you to feel them– Hard and cold against your sides and back. I press against you– Hard and hot against your front.
“You sure this is what you want?,” I ask, breathing on your neck, knowing the torment the sensations must be wreaking on your nerves. The heightener is one hell of an experience.
The breathy, flustered, “uh huh,” and eager nod I get in response as you squirm there is a welcoming reaction. Finally, a decision.
The doors ding open, and I pull you down the hall to my suite. The Hall never disappoints me; the lights are dimmed in my smartly designed room. Its modern features glint with the glows of candles burning in front of the huge, open curtains overlooking the city. The skyline lit up in all its nighttime glory.
I don’t plan on making this easy on you. Afterall, you’re not really supposed to have gotten in the Hall in the first place.
“So tell me what you want,” I say as the door to my room clicks shut behind us.
“I don’t know, just something that feels good,” you say back to your shy demeanor. At least you looked me in the eyes for the first part of your response.
“Oh, sweetheart, we’re gonna have you telling me more by the end of this or I’ll make you miserable,” I threaten, a dark flash in my eyes, as I walk towards you.
You think I’m playing with you. I can tell by your candid smile. Too bad for you, I’m not.
I crowd you to the white fluffy comforter and push you backwards onto the king-sized mattress. You look nervous, but not scared.
“What do you want?,” I ask huskily.
“I don’t kn–,” you start. I slap your thigh hard. You immediately learn that the heightener can be a blessing and a curse.
“Owww-uch!” you whine, shocked and unsure as you search my face. I see fear, confusion and something else. You see that I’m not playing.
There’s a pink handprint glowing angrily on your thigh. My cock jumps at the sight of it. I know it hurts, surely feeling hotter than the afterburn of any slap you’ve endured, and certainly stinging harsher than it would if the enhancer wasn’t coursing through you.
“Tell me,” I say firmly, “You don’t want me to ask again.”
You nod quickly, agreeing. “…kiss me, please?,” you ask.
It’s not a demand, but it’s progress enough.
“There’s a clever girl,” I say as I tenderly kiss the reddened spot on your thigh before moving up to the full lips I watched you bite into indecisively downstairs.
You gasp lightly when our lips meet; every little sensation feeling huge. I guide my tongue past your pearly teeth and pulse it against yours. You let a small sound slip, and I think to myself just how long of a night you’re in for.
“What do you want?,” I ask again between kisses. You hesitate and I bite down harshly on your lovely lower lip. “Play with me,” you spurt out earnestly.
It’s cute that you don’t realize I am.
I bite down less harshly on your lip, before sucking on it as an apology. I kiss and tongue my way along your jaw and neck to your collarbone; letting my fingers roam lightly over your body feeling you squirm uncomfortably in your clinging dress.
I don’t know what she considers play, but she’s about to find out my version.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/gd1leo/the_hall_pt_1_discovering_what_you_want_mf_ds