Bondage Hotel

by Charles Graham

  With suitable training, she would be quite superbly sensual and Miles knew exactly what training was required for, unknown to Hazel, he was not quite what he seemed.

  In addition to what he had told her about himself, Miles Hetherington was a devotee of bondage and domination and had, at different times in his life, enjoyed the services of three obedient and submissive slave-girls.

  Two blondes and one brunette.

  He had never had a red-headed slave-girl...but that, he promised himself, was about to change.

  As Hazel’s climax began to wane, he prepared for the next stage of her surrender to him.

  Releasing his grip on her wrists, he took off his trousers, knelt down by her feet and took one of her ankles in each hand. Gently, with no haste, he began to spread her legs, moving himself forward as her calves parted before him.

  It was a moment or two before Hazel’s sex-drugged brain caught up with what he was doing and by the time she levered herself into a sitting position with her still bound hands, his body was ensconced between her knees.

  She looked down and blushed a bright scarlet as she saw his fully erect masculinity between her widely spread thighs and, just for a moment, her lips quivered as if she was about to speak.

  Then the moment passed and she gave a little shiver, lowering herself back down to the blanket and looking straight up into the blue sky above her.

  Miles inched forward, savouring her passive acceptance and Hazel gave a soft gasp as his erection pressed firmly between the pink folds of her labia and into her sex, his passage aided by the warm, slick juices of her orgasm until he was buried full-length within her and began a rhythmic pumping of his pelvis.

  “Oh, Oh. Ugghh. Yes, don’t stop. Oh. Ohhh. Aiieehh,” Hazel moaned as her slim legs rose to encircle his waist, her head arching back as a climax engulfed her and her belly pounded furiously.

  Fast losing his own self control, Miles plunged deep into her swirling heat and Hazel gave vent to a full throated scream of overwhelming ecstasy as she learned what pleasure a man and a woman can bring to each other.

  A second, more powerful climax shook her body as Miles’ lunges grew faster and still harder and her eyes opened wide as huge gushes of love juices burst into her belly, drowning her in wave after wave of rapture that she had never known even existed.

  “No,” she whimpered, “No. It can’t be.” Her head jerked from side to side as, deep within her pulsating belly, Miles’ erection began to throb and judder and her muscles spasmed around him, squeezing him in vice-like contractions as his spend jetted into her and her own body responded to send her hurtling into a third shattering climax.

  Squealing and moaning like a lost soul in torment, Hazel ground her pelvis against Miles’ groin, not even aware of what she was doing, her brain overwhelmed by the maddened intensity of her lust and the sheer power of her climaxes as her body surrendered to the animal allure of pure physical gratification.

  Exhausted and quivering to the slowly waning pulsing of her belly, Hazel curled into a tight foetal ball, hugging her climax as Miles slipped from her and dressed himself, then knelt by her side to stroke her trembling flank.

  He was delighted with what he had witnessed, for he recognised true slave heat when he saw it and realised that Hazel could have no idea that few women, or even trained slave-girls, possessed such natural depths of passion.

  Nor could she even begin to guess that there were men like himself, dominant men, who treasured such women and were prepared to go to almost any lengths to obtain and keep such prizes.

  No matter what the cost.

  He knew he was fortunate to have found Hazel and when she stirred against his chest and began to kiss and lick his stroking fingers with delicate touches of her lips, he knew himself to be doubly blessed, for the many shy glances she gave him from time to time, immediately followed by the lowering of her head as she saw him watching her, told him that she had already gone part way along the road of full submission to him.

  And from there, it was but a question of time before she would kneel willingly at his feet and ask humbly to be collared as a full slave-girl.

  A request he would be more than happy to grant.

  Six months, he estimated, six months until Hazel, of her own free will, became his slave.

  His property.

  Only then, he decided, would he introduce her to the full rigours of her new status, when, bound in chains, she would learn that obedience and absolute submission to his dominance were not games to be played with a lover, but the permanent, unbreakable and rigidly enforced rules by which she, a lowly slave-girl, would have to live for as long as it pleased him to keep her.

  With that delicious prospect in mind, he stirred himself and looked at the sun, now low in the sky.

  “Time we were getting back,” he said and Hazel nodded glumly as he rose to his feet.

  She tried to stand, too, but her bound wrists impeded her and made her clumsy and she giggled as he stood watching her, but didn’t offer to assist her.

  At last, with a graceless twist of her body, she managed to stagger upright and gave him a mock-severe glare. “Thanks for the help,” she said sarcastically, “It’s not easy with no hands, you know.”

  “No,” he replied evenly, “But you’ll get used to it.”

  She turned quickly and her eyes locked on his, but then, when he didn’t look away or apologise, she looked thoughtful for a second, then said, “Yes, I rather think I will,”...and blushed.

  “Give me your hands. I’ll untie you now.”

  Just for a brief moment, Hazel hesitated, her eyes dark and unreadable, then she held out her wrists to be released.

  Free, she picked up her clothes and put them on, then went to him, took his face in both her hands and gave him a long, sensual kiss, her tongue entwining with his.

  “Thank you very much for not letting me say no to you,” she said.

  On the drive back, she was quiet most of the way, until the hotel was nearly in sight. Then she asked him just one question, “When I go to London with you, will you tie me up often?”

  “Would you like me to?”

  “I enjoyed it. A lot.”

  And that was the start…

  Chapter Two

  Three months later…

  In the weeks that had flown by since she had accompanied Miles to London, Hazel had seen things, eaten and drunk things and experienced things that she had only known existed from television pictures, and in many cases, had never known about at all.

  He had told her that he managed a hotel, but she had envisioned something on the lines of the one she had worked in.

  The reality was completely different.

  His hotel catered to an international clientele and offered the very highest standards of luxury, cuisine and privacy to its guests and, as manager, Miles was a very important man.

  Although nowhere near as rich as the guests he catered for, he was also fairly wealthy and Hazel was in seventh Heaven to find herself taken to theatre shows, expensive restaurants, even more expensive clothes shops and even to Wimbledon and Ascot.

  The icing on the cake as far as Hazel was concerned, was Miles’ assiduous instruction in the arts of love-making, her body growing attuned to his touch and responding with ever increasing passion to his hands and lips, her climaxes ever stronger as he took her and her sexuality flowered under his skilful tuition.

  Though she never realised it until far too late, Miles moulded her to his will, playing on her inexperience and innate sense of adventure to lead her down the paths he wanted her to travel.

  He taught her how to arouse herself to climax while he watched her.

  He taught her to enjoy sex in the open air, grass beneath her naked back.

  He taught her to wear the revealing clothes he provided for her, without underwear.

  He taught her, with her own eager cooperation, to delight in being bound and helpless for increasingly longer periods.

  Most im
portantly, he taught her to rely on him, trust him and accept his judgment.

  The last being a fatal error on her part, but Hazel could not be expected to know that he was preparing her to play a central role in a plan that was nearing fruition.

  His Bondage Hotel, where devotees of domination and subjugation could live out their greatest fantasies in luxurious, purpose built surroundings.

  For a price.

  A very high price.

  As part of his plan, Miles took Hazel on a trip to Soho, the centre of London’s sex industry and encouraged her first to examine and then to buy several bondage magazines, a large vibrator and a set of leather wrist and ankle cuffs, overcoming her embarrassment at even looking at such things by the simple expedient of sending her out of the shop and then buying them himself.

  His ploy worked, as he had known it would, Hazel’s curiosity getting the better of her as soon as they got home. In next to no time, she lay spreadeagled and naked in the centre of his huge bed, her new cuffs buckled tightly around her wrists and ankles and tied securely to the four corners, her eyes bulging with aroused fascination as he showed her picture after picture of women bound even more helplessly than she was.

  Making quite sure to point out that although many of the women were just models, some were genuine slave-girls, the collars on their necks placed there by their Masters.

  The vibrator was equally successful when, leaving her spreadeagled and ignoring her frantic protests, he inserted it into her wetly glistening sex and switched it on.

  Her screams of ecstasy as her belly exploded in gigantic climaxes were music to his ears but were so loud that he had to leave the room for almost a full hour.

  Leaving the vibrator turned up to maximum.

  Immediately afterwards, at Hazel’s request as they lay cradled together recovering from yet another bout of passionate love making, both cuffs and vibrator became regular features of their sex games and she slipped imperceptibly further and further under his spell.

  Alone in his home while he was at work, she found herself drawn irresistibly to the magazines he had bought, turning time and again to the pictures of women with metal collars around their necks.

  The women that Miles had assured her were genuine slave-girls.

  She had no way of telling whether he was right, but rather hoped he was, for it added to the delicious warmth the pictures always produced in her belly as she imagined herself with a collar...Miles’ collar...locked around her own slim throat.

  Over a period of weeks, her fantasy of becoming Miles’ slave-girl took firm root in her mind and the more she thought about it, the more excited she became as she anticipated his delight when she handed him the metal ring and asked him to collar her.

  It would be her way of expressing her gratitude for everything he had done for her and she knew he would be thrilled by her gift.

  But there was one seemingly insurmountable problem.

  She was perfectly prepared to wear a collar around the house when she was alone with Miles, but what about when they went out in public?

  It would be impossible to hide, but if she had to remove it every time they went out, much of the point of wearing it at all would be lost.

  She looked at the slave-girls in the pictures and wondered how they managed.

  It didn’t occur to her that a slave-girl, who was genuinely enslaved, might never go out in public.

  Or that if one did, she might have to wear her collar openly as a sign of her enslavement…

  Miles was away for a week and Hazel was bored and frustrated.

  Pondering the collar problem as she flipped idly through one of the magazines, she stopped, intrigued, as one of the many advertisements caught her eye and set her brain buzzing with a whole new list of stimulating and somewhat frightening possibilities.

  The notice offered tattooing and body piercing facilities, on the premises or at the client’s home, by either male or female staff. As she read the details, Hazel felt a ripple of undeniable arousal as she realised that she had found the answer she had been looking for.

  If she had the nerve to take it.

  After an hour spent agonising over the pros and cons of having herself pierced, Hazel picked up the phone and dialed.

  “May I help you?”

  “Uh, yes. Yes, I think so. You see, I...want to have a p...piercing.”

  “I see. What type of piercing, Madam? Ears? Nose? Or perhaps, exotic?”

  “Um. Well...uh...ex...exotic.”

  “Extremely popular these days, Madam. Would that be nipples, labia or elsewhere, Madam?”

  The woman’s calm, impersonal questions steadied Hazel’s nerve and she was able to control her embarrassment to some extent. “L...Labia,” she stammered.

  “Both, or just one, Madam?”

  “Well...both, I suppose.”

  “Rings then, I imagine, Madam. Silver or gold? We supply either, but gold is our recommendation.”

  Hazel had never thought about it. “Uh, gold, then.”

  “Very good, Madam. I take it that you would prefer one of our female staff to visit you at your home to carry out the procedure?

  “Oh, yes. Definitely.”

  “I can arrange that for tomorrow morning if you give me your address.”

  “Uh, yes. Fine,” Hazel said and gave her the details.

  “Very good, Madam. Miss Holman will be with you tomorrow.”

  “Wait. How...How long does it t…take.”

  “No more than ten minutes, Madam and please try not to worry. I assure you it won’t hurt and in two to three days you will be fully healed and the proud possessor of two elegant piercings to delight both yourself and your partner.”

  Hazel thanked the woman and put down the telephone, then slid her fingers beneath her skirt and fingered herself gently, her sex moistening as she imagined the feel of cool, hard gold transfixing her velvet soft flesh.

  Her arousal built steadily as she anticipated what Miles would say and do to her when he discovered her rings and her fingers slipped into the wet channel between her thighs, rubbing harder as she visualised him buckling the leather cuffs on her limbs and spreadeagling her.

  Nearing her climax, Hazel whimpered in need, her brain full of images of his erect maleness ploughing into her belly and his cruel lips feasting on her helpless breasts. As her fingers thrust deep into her own body, she shuddered in orgasm, her mouth opening in a soft scream of sheer pleasure.

  The following morning, Miss Holman was as efficient as Hazel had been promised and her air of brisk professionalism turned what could have been a highly embarrassing situation into a simple and almost enjoyable experience.

  As she sat Hazel on a dining chair, she told the nervous redhead, “Don’t worry, I’ve done dozens of these. It’s the most popular exotic piercing we do. Now, if you will just spread your legs and hold your skirt up. Good. That’s fine. Just hold still as you are, while I dab a little anaesthetic on you.”

  Hazel flinched as a cool liquid was applied to her labia but otherwise didn’t move. Miss Holman smiled up at her, “Well done. That’s the worst part, actually. Now, would you like to watch the piercing? Some women do, some don’t. It’s up to you. No? All right, that’s fine. If you’d like to turn your head away, I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

  Hazel would have liked to watch but couldn’t quite summon up the courage.

  She closed her eyes and waited, praying that the process wouldn’t hurt too much...and was astonished to feel only two brief jabs of pain, more like pin-pricks than anything else and nothing like as bad as she had expected.

  “There. All done,” Miss Holman said. “Now all that’s left is to choose what rings you want. I’ve brought along a selection.” She produced a small jewel box from her briefcase and laid open pairs of gleaming gold rings of various sizes on the table beside the redhead.

  Hazel looked at the display blankly, not knowing which to choose.

  “If I might make a suggestion?�
� Miss Holman prompted. “These are probably too small for you, and you might find these a little heavy. Perhaps these...?” She offered Hazel a pair about an inch in diameter.

  Hazel took them and her eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t think they would weigh so much.”

  “Well, they are gold, Madam,” the woman said, “What do you think of them?”

  “They are lovely,” Hazel replied, “All right, I’ll take your advice.”

  “I’m sure you’ll be pleased,” She said as she took them from Hazel and knelt to fit them.

  Still numbed by the anaesthetic, she couldn’t feel the woman’s hands on her and only knew she was ringed when Miss Holman stood up.

  “You won’t have any trouble with those, Madam. Just take life easy for a day or two. Ask your partner to be patient.”

  “Oh, that’s no problem,” Hazel chuckled. “He doesn’t get back for another five days.”

  Miss Holman grinned conspiratorially, “Then I expect he’ll be very pleased to see you again, won’t he?”

  Hazel blushed, then nodded, giggling, “Yes, he certainly will.”

  “Is that why you decided to have yourself pierced?”

  “That’s right. I wanted to give him a surprise present.”

  “Well, I imagine he’ll be surprised all right,” Miss Holman agreed, “But a present is always more enjoyable when it’s gift wrapped, isn’t it?”

  Hazel didn’t see what she was getting at. “Y...ye...ess,” she said slowly. “But what exactly do you mean?”

  The woman didn’t reply at once, but opened her briefcase again and drew out another box, then said, “How about one of these?”

  Hazel gaped at the array of gleaming padlocks and her belly gave a quaking lurch as she understood what Miss Holman meant about gift wrapping presents.

  “You could hand him the keys yourself,” the woman chuckled. “Then he could unwrap his present whenever he wanted, couldn’t he?”

  Hazel didn’t need to be convinced.

  She picked up the one she wanted, its gleaming steel curves smooth in her palm. “This one,” she said decisively and Miss Holman nodded.