Thanks, frankee. I enjoyed writing it, too! I'm still feeling very shy about sharing any of what I write - but I guess the only way I can stop that & get better is just to go ahead and do it!

So on that basis: I just wrote this one - rather more what I do know about. I'm not convinced that makes me write it any better, if anything, I find it more difficult because I'm involved with it. Still, thought I'd share it. Hope you & others enjoy.

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She’d taken a great deal of care to look good; she’d spent quite a lot of money and, although she was feeling self-conscious, she felt sexy and she knew she looked good – she’d even got a whistle walking down to the station. Her knee-length black boots, with high heels and a buckled strap across the ankle, showed off her legs, and made her walk with her bust thrust out and hips swinging. Her black and white skirt was much shorter than she normally dared to wear, and she was enjoying the feel of the silky lining rubbing against her bare buttocks. She’d bought a new matching thong and uplift bra – very cute, black with pink bows. She was a little worried that he’d be annoyed with her for wearing the thong – he’d said she shouldn’t wear anything under skirts – but it was so pretty! She reassured herself that he would appreciate the triangle of black lace just at the top of her cleft, with its little pink bow, just so lusciously decorative. How could he resist?

This was an important meeting. They hadn’t seen each other for a month, and wouldn’t be seeing each other for another two months or more after this. They’d only spent time together three times before, five days, ten days, three days … but, ohhh, how good those times had been. He was so refreshingly uninhibited, just seemed to love delving into every part of her, and he had such an imagination! And how he’d been turning her on since then, constantly texting her with instructions, demands, fantasies… my God, she hadn’t had such fun in years. It made her feel intensely alive.

During the journey up to town to meet at his hotel, they talked and texted at intervals. She’d left a bit later than she should have, having taken too much time to dress. Her train was late. As she got nearer, he seemed to get terser. When she got off at the main station, she stopped for a cigarette, and he called her again.

“Where are you now?” He was quite abrupt. She told him she’d just arrived in town, but felt it best not to mention she’d stopped to smoke. He didn’t sound like he’d appreciate the wait. She was so nervous and so excited, though, nothing could dampen her bubbling happiness. She was going to see him! And, oh yes, they were going to fuck like rabbits. Again. And again.

She was aware her panties were wet. Following his instructions – although she had to call him again to check – she got to the hotel. She was muddle-headed with anticipation, knocked on the wrong room first off, couldn’t remember the number he’d given her and had to call him again. She was fairly giggling to herself when she knocked on his door – he must be excited too, he did sound brisk!

He opened the door and didn’t kiss her or put his arms round her, just stood to one side and said,

“Finally. Come in.”

She was too happy to register any concern, blithe with pleasure. She breezed in, chatting, apologising for mistaking the room number, and dumped her overnight bag on the chair. The room looked alr –

He grabbed her bag, threw it across the room and snarled,

“You’re late!” As she turned to him in shock, he grabbed her arm and dragged her roughly towards him, pulled her coat off and threw it across the room to join the bag.

Her cleavage showed itself to the full under the low-cut top, as her breathing became suddenly erratic. A tremor of fear went through her. After all, she really didn’t know him that well. When they’d met before, other people, family, had been around, known where she was, where he was… but this time, it was just him and her, in an anonymous room. What was happening?

She became painfully aware of the size of him, of his muscles, his strength; she felt tiny and insignificant, as though he could crush her with one hand.

“Good! Like the outfit!” He pushed her onto the bed and sat down in the chair. His barked approval was if anything even more confusing. He stared at her, and she found herself unable to meet his eye.

“Stand up.” She stood, uncertainly, feeling awkward, not quite knowing where to put herself.

“You are not allowed to keep me waiting. You are going to be punished. Lift up your skirt. Come here and bend over my knees.”

She started to shake very slightly. She pulled up her skirt at the back. She’d never been put over anyone’s knee, had only ever been slightly spanked, in play, by him, last time they’d met. He was already angry at her for being late, and now he was going to see she’d got a thong on as well – she’d never really taken his instructions that seriously, I mean, it was just play, just excitement, right? It didn’t matter, did it?

She was not so sure right now.

It didn’t occur to her for a second not to do as he commanded. His voice, his hard physical presence, the certainty in his tone left no room for doubt; she reacted instinctively to these things, conscious thought disappeared, fluttering away like moths.

She walked the few steps to him and bent her knees, starting to kneel, but he pulled her down across his lap and landed a huge slap across her arse. She made the smallest of noises in her throat.

“You will count the strokes. After each one, you will thank your Master.”

Her soul began to quiver inside with delight and wonder.

“One. Thank you, Master.”

He waited a moment, then smacked again.

“Two. Thank you, Master.”

She felt relief that he didn’t mention the thong. She seemed to have got away with it.

“Three. Thank you, Master.”

He had such big hands and he smacked her hard.

“Ten. Thank you, Master.”

Sometimes he smacked one cheek, sometimes the other, sometimes both.

“Fifteen. Thank you, Master.”

Her voice was getting weaker, her mind blanker.

“Twenty. Thank you, Master.”

A bare whisper.

He rubbed his hands across her hot cheeks, softly; then pulled down her skirt and pushed her off his lap. When she landed, she automatically knelt and faced him, head down.

“Behind you on the floor is a piece of paper. You will crawl over to fetch it, bring it back and read it out loud, kneeling in front of me. Now.”

She turned and saw the paper, crawled over to it and back, kneeling before him, bemused, feeling dread and reverence. She found it difficult to focus, difficult to read, difficult to speak, difficult to think.

This is what she read to him, in a small, faltering murmur:

“I’m sorry, Master, I really am. I promise I won’t be late again. I know that I am lucky to be your slave and privileged that you choose to use me as you do. Please let me make it up to you. Use me, hurt me, have me in any way you can think of. I will do anything as long as I can remain your cum slut.”

Her voice had disappeared almost to nothing as she finished, but she found she had tears in her eyes, that she felt with desperation exactly the emotion written there, although the words were not her own. Hesitantly she raised her face to look at him, so that he could read in her eyes that she truly meant it.

He was staring down at her with that brutal look he had sometimes, fierce and implacable. She was completely immobilised.

“That’s not good enough. You didn’t say it with enough feeling.”

She felt stricken, but had no time to deal with the thought as he pulled her up and across his knees again. This time he spanked her very fast and extremely hard. She started to count and thank him, but he told her to be quiet. Although she then tried not to make a sound, he was really hurting her, and she yelped as he hit her, shaking in her effort to stay still, open to him.

“Now. Get on your knees and suck my cock, and do it well, do it like you mean it.”

She tumbled back to her knees and reached trembling hands out to undo his belt, fumbling like a virgin with his button and zip. He didn’t help her to undress him other than to lift his butt to allow her to pull the jeans down. His cock was hard and pressing against the cotton of his shorts, she had trouble easing the elastic over it, frightened to hurt him. God, his beautiful cock – she rushed to pull his shorts off, his socks went with them; she was salivating hard, and the crotch of her thong was soaked. She could smell herself. She knelt back up and wrapped his great penis in one hand, gently, reverently, and lowered her lips down to it. She licked the tip, then up and down the shaft, just circled between a finger and thumb to hold it at the right angle. She licked her lips and put them gently around his prick, moving her tongue over and just around the edge of its tip. She lifted herself higher and started to suck, making a vacuum with her mouth, then pushed the whole length of him slowly into her throat, as deep as she could. She kept her hand moving up and down the lower part of his shaft as her mouth moved back to the top, sometimes taking him out of her mouth to lick his length, then plunging it deep in her throat again to make him gasp.

He spread his legs wider, so she massaged his balls gently with her other hand. She started to move her head in a regular rhythm. She put all her effort – and, she felt with some pride, skill – into giving him pleasure. He was breathing hard. He grabbed her head, twisting his fingers in her hair so it hurt, and used her mouth, fucking it hard, forcing himself into her so she found it hard to breathe, until she gagged slightly. She heard him snort – he liked her gagging, liked to know she was pushing herself to take all of him. His breathing was ragged now, and she was intensely excited, making little moaning noises to herself, and sopping wet.

He pulled her off him suddenly, holding her head up and staring into her eyes hard, letting her see how she had moved him. His nostrils flared as he fought to control himself. She knew he wouldn’t come from her sucking him, however much he enjoyed it, but she could also tell he badly wanted to fuck her, right now, really hard; although that wasn’t his intention.

“That’s enough for the moment. You can stand up now.” He held her gently to steady her as she stood, smoothing her skirt down, her bottom stinging but, she realised, certainly able and ready to take more. She wondered if there would be any more. She hoped there would be…

“Let’s have a look at you, then.”

He got up, stripped off his shirt and lay down on his back on the bed, smiling. She laughed and turned round for him. “I definitely like those boots. Take your skirt and top off for me.” She was shy but eager. She loved that he enjoyed her body, seeming genuinely to find it beautiful, to enjoy all its curves and crevices. She babbled a bit as she undressed for him, apologising for the thong but explaining the set was new, she’d bought it specially for him. He just grinned and indicated her to twirl by spinning a finger.

“You’re right, it is very pretty. You’re lucky. You almost got an extra five.” He got up from the bed. “Take off the thong and the bra. You can keep your boots and stockings on. Then come over here and lie on your back.”

Ah. There was more. Immediately she felt her brain start to slip away somewhere; a thrum of excitement went through her. She took off her underwear and crawled over the bed, nicely aware of her butt in the air, aware of his still erect penis so near her lips, aware that he would be able to smell her too. She lay down in the middle. As she was arranging herself, he took a bag out of the bedside table drawer and rummaged in it. He pulled out a pair of black cuffs and grinned at her again. “I’ve been shopping. But you’ll have to wait to see the rest. Arms above your head.”

He put both cuffs on her wrists, obviously enjoying the moment just as she was. He checked with her that they were comfortable, then walked round to the other side of the bed and bent down to pick something up. He re-appeared holding one end of a thick red cotton rope. She was in a state of anticipation now, so she didn’t notice the details as he attached the first cuff to the rope. She just noticed with a sense of disappointment that it was pretty loose. She liked tight. No-one had tied her up for so long… let it be tight.

He was fastening the other cuff, and pulled on the rope. Oh! It was the same rope, threaded under the bed – so as he pulled on one end, it pulled her arms in opposite directions, stretching them apart… God, that was a surprise, it had been completely hidden and it felt so good. Part of her normal mind registered that he had obviously gone to some trouble to prepare this in a hotel room and wondered how he’d rigged it up. Well, he was an engineer. They’re good at ropes, and counter-levers, and stuff…

“Mmmm.” He ran his hands over her body, just briefly squeezing each breast, stroking the inside of her thighs as she opened her legs for him. She wondered if he was going to attach her ankles as well. She thrust her pelvis up towards him, feeling herself pulse and juice.

Then he turned round and started dressing. She lay and stared at him. The bastard, she thought. He’s going to go for a drink. I know he is. He’s going to leave me tied up here and go to the bar. The bastard!

But she said nothing. She couldn’t speak, she was enjoying herself too much, and too much in his thrall. She watched his every movement: how he put on his socks, how he did up his belt. Oh and that little smug smirk on his face! She wriggled slightly, curled her legs up, pressing them together, to try to give her pussy some respite. She spread them again. Every time she moved, it made one arm pull the other, so she was always slightly twisted unless she lay still. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was strangely disorienting. She had no control over it.

He walked to the other corner of the room and picked up her coat. Smiling slightly at her, he placed it over her.

“There. Can’t have my little cum slut getting cold, now, can I?” She just gazed up at him, overcome suddenly by a wash of gratitude and tenderness.

“I’m going for a drink and a smoke. I’ll be back later.” He gave her one last grin and she managed one defiant mutter out loud,

“You bastard!”

She wasn’t sure whether he’d heard her and chosen to ignore it. She rather thought he had. That little smirk.

He shut the door, leaving her wriggling slightly to herself, indignant, delighted, annoyed, thrumming.

Then the lights went out.