The hotel is an old limestone beauty left over from the Victorian era. It’s tucked into the ozarks, its predecessor long lost to fire. Opulent tiling and woodwork fill the lobby and ballroom, but upstairs, the carpet is cheap and rough. As I kneel before your tall form, it’s course pile is chaffing the skin of my knees through my thigh high socks. My miniskirt has pushed itself up to my waist, exposing dainty lace panties, while my upper body is adorned only by a sheer emerald bra, and delicate choker. Our shirts and shoes were lost the moment we made it into the suit, and I am actively fighting the desire to look at you. Instead I sigh a loud, unladylike, disgruntled noise, and stare at the well proportioned bare feet residing in my line of vision. You step away, and I hear rather than see you settle into the club chair in the corner. Silence is my only companion for a long while , and then, “ Sub, come here” . Finally! I attempt to mask my excitement as I slowly slink over to you on my hands and knees, my breathe coming in jagged pants by the time I traverse the small distance, so aroused am I by our play. As I settle myself into position between your splayed feet, I dare a peek up. I first note the bulge in your jeans that makes me shiver, and glance up quickly only to be ensnared by your gaze. Moss and whiskey eyes that are already backlit with heat hold my stare. You raise an eyebrow as you grasp my jaw between strong fingers and tilt my head back to view what I presume is my collar. You release my chin and I feel a gentle caress of fingers along it’s path round my neck. This makes me shudder and close my eyes, biting my lip to hold in a moan. a crop I never knew was there is suddenly between my thighs, my juices quickly coating it, and my eyes fly open to watch your face through lowered lashes as it’s damp tip glides up my body. you are focused as you dance it along my cheek and then look me in the eye with another smirk as you pop me under the chin with a quick, light , thwack. I immediately open my mouth, and you place the leather inside with a command.
“ suck “. I comply, my eagerness soaking the scrap emerald lace between my spread thighs.