toyamanda
02-28-2009, 06:01 PM
(Note, I'm kind of new to posting, period, and haven't started a thread on the RP board before. If I commit a faux pas, or if anyone has any suggestions for something I should be doing differently, please share. Thanks. This is fairly standard as far as scenarios go, I think, but I enjoyed thinking it up, and I hope you like it. ;))
When you told me you’d be in town on business and asked to meet, my first instinct was to say no, but I decided to think about it for a day or so, mulling it over. As I went about my mundane, everyday tasks; riding the bus, sitting at my desk at work, yoga class...I couldn’t think of anything but your voice in my ear, telling me what you wanted to do to me, how you wanted to use me. I realized that I would never forgive myself if I passed up the opportunity to feel your hands on me, to give myself to you truly, even if only for one night.
As I pass through the lobby of the hotel, I can’t help but feel that everybody knows what I am doing there, and a flush creeps up my body. I’ve followed your instructions and am wearing heels, and a lightweight dress with nothing under it but a bra that pushes my full breasts up towards the v-neckline, framing and lifting them, but leaving most of the swells bare. My nipples brush against the fabric, and I’m sure everyone can see how hard they are.
I approach the registration desk, wondering if you’re watching me. For all I know, you could be one of the men sitting in the armchairs just a few feet away. I give the clerk your name and room number, and she smirks slightly as she hands over the key card. Taking it quickly, I practically bolt for the elevator. Ten floors up, with a group of boistrous men wearing conference nametags. I wonder if they know you.
The elevator doors open on your floor. I know it’s still not too late. I can ride straight back down, march out the front door of the hotel, back to my car and my safe little life. But I don’t want to. I know nothing will be the same after tonight, but that’s what I came her for.
I slide the key card into the lock; it beeps and clicks open. I slip through the door. I want to look around a little, to see what you’ve brought with you, but I know that is definitely against the rules. I also know that you could be here any minute, and I had better be ready for you. I follow your instructions to “Strip, and put on what I’ve laid out for you.”
At first, I don’t see anything on the bed. Then I notice, camouflaged by the print of the tacky hotel-chain bedspread, a single pair of silver police-style handcuffs. I strip, folding my clothes neatly over the back of a chair, placing my shoes beneath it.
Snapping the cuffs onto my own wrists behind my back is difficult, but I manage. I’m tempted to leave them a bit loose so I can pull out of them if I need to, but if I’m going to do this, I am going to go for broke. I tighten them as much as I can, so the metal is biting onto my wrists.
Per your instructions, I kneel on the floor with my back to the door, knees spread. I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
It seems like days before I hear the electronic beep of the door lock, and the turn of the knob, but it is probably only about half an hour. It takes every bit of willpower I have not to turn my head so I can see you.
You say nothing, but I hear your footsteps coming up behind me. I can sense the presence of your legs just behind my bare back, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Your hand comes to rest lightly on top of my head. Slowly, you slide your fingers through my hair, before going back up to the top and starting again. On the third pass, you twist your fingers hard into the hair at the nape of my neck. The sudden pain makes me gasp.
Using only the grip you have on my hair, you pull me up, twisting me around to face you...
When you told me you’d be in town on business and asked to meet, my first instinct was to say no, but I decided to think about it for a day or so, mulling it over. As I went about my mundane, everyday tasks; riding the bus, sitting at my desk at work, yoga class...I couldn’t think of anything but your voice in my ear, telling me what you wanted to do to me, how you wanted to use me. I realized that I would never forgive myself if I passed up the opportunity to feel your hands on me, to give myself to you truly, even if only for one night.
As I pass through the lobby of the hotel, I can’t help but feel that everybody knows what I am doing there, and a flush creeps up my body. I’ve followed your instructions and am wearing heels, and a lightweight dress with nothing under it but a bra that pushes my full breasts up towards the v-neckline, framing and lifting them, but leaving most of the swells bare. My nipples brush against the fabric, and I’m sure everyone can see how hard they are.
I approach the registration desk, wondering if you’re watching me. For all I know, you could be one of the men sitting in the armchairs just a few feet away. I give the clerk your name and room number, and she smirks slightly as she hands over the key card. Taking it quickly, I practically bolt for the elevator. Ten floors up, with a group of boistrous men wearing conference nametags. I wonder if they know you.
The elevator doors open on your floor. I know it’s still not too late. I can ride straight back down, march out the front door of the hotel, back to my car and my safe little life. But I don’t want to. I know nothing will be the same after tonight, but that’s what I came her for.
I slide the key card into the lock; it beeps and clicks open. I slip through the door. I want to look around a little, to see what you’ve brought with you, but I know that is definitely against the rules. I also know that you could be here any minute, and I had better be ready for you. I follow your instructions to “Strip, and put on what I’ve laid out for you.”
At first, I don’t see anything on the bed. Then I notice, camouflaged by the print of the tacky hotel-chain bedspread, a single pair of silver police-style handcuffs. I strip, folding my clothes neatly over the back of a chair, placing my shoes beneath it.
Snapping the cuffs onto my own wrists behind my back is difficult, but I manage. I’m tempted to leave them a bit loose so I can pull out of them if I need to, but if I’m going to do this, I am going to go for broke. I tighten them as much as I can, so the metal is biting onto my wrists.
Per your instructions, I kneel on the floor with my back to the door, knees spread. I wait.
And wait.
And wait.
It seems like days before I hear the electronic beep of the door lock, and the turn of the knob, but it is probably only about half an hour. It takes every bit of willpower I have not to turn my head so I can see you.
You say nothing, but I hear your footsteps coming up behind me. I can sense the presence of your legs just behind my bare back, and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
Your hand comes to rest lightly on top of my head. Slowly, you slide your fingers through my hair, before going back up to the top and starting again. On the third pass, you twist your fingers hard into the hair at the nape of my neck. The sudden pain makes me gasp.
Using only the grip you have on my hair, you pull me up, twisting me around to face you...