The Fantasy, part 1

Master has planted this seed deeply in my mind, and it has grown and flourished there for several days. i’ve teased and hinted at it, but i will flesh it out, story-wise, for ya’ll. For now, this is fantasy…but there will come day…

He’s told me often enough that i won’t ever know when He will decide to play the game. The game? Must be that, as He never calls a scene a scene.

He’s bade me, therefore, to *always* carry my “whore clothes” with me for every meet, since i won’t be forewarned when it will happen.

Whore-play.

Play is such an innocuous word for something that holds the threat and promise of rude, raw treatment.

Not a pampered pet, not a little toy, but meat.

Rarely do i knock on the hotel room door, preferring to send a little text to let Him know i’m here. Today perhaps, “boobage alert” will bring Him to the door fast.

Ha! i know He will always come in His good time.

Today the door opens right away, and He greets me with a somber face. Very stern.

“It’s about time you fucking got here,” He says.

i swallow hard.

“Sorry M-” but He cuts me off.

“Shut the fuck up. Did I say you could talk, whore?” He yanks me into the room, throwing my bag on the floor of the bathroom.

“Get your whore ass dressed,” He bites out the words, as He pushes me roughly into the bathroom.

Now?

Today?

After so long apart?

My heart is racing, and i’m almost panting as i peel off my vanilla as fast as i can. My fingers are shaking as i pull up the hosiery, and have trouble connecting the hooks on my ‘slutbra’.

As i pull up the skirt, omg it’s so fucking short, i scroll back in my memory…was there someone in the lobby? This was one of the bigger hotels we went to, one nearby to me to maximize our time together.  He’d forwarned me that a visitor, or two, or more, might someday be waiting there in the lobby, watching for a short, round slut with long red hair to pass by.

The only clue i might get, if i paid attention was the roses.

Red ones, held in the hand of my ‘suitors’ as they sat in the lobby waiting for His signal to come to the room.  There had been people in the lobby, there often was here. Crowded, i remember dropping my eyes and plowing through the various groupings on my way to the elevator bank.

i hear a sound at the bathroom door, and see it.

A red rose, sliding under the door. As if His terse warning was not enough. Biting my lower lip, i rise from the toilet and fasten my clothing, what little there is of it. The cropped, off-shoulder shirt is barely covering my tits, which swell up and over the black lace shelf bra that He wanted me to wear.

The red rose, the signal of my sexual demise, i think, and with shaking fingers, begin to ‘whore-up’ my make-up. From nude eyes to dark metallic bronze-brown, appropriately called sex kitten. Heavy eyeliner, and for the first time, false eyelashes. i wonder if they will come off under the mask i’d asked long ago to wear.

Or perhaps He’d decided to not let me ‘go in blind’, making me watch a strangers cock coming to fuck my face.

With a last flick of my wrist, deep crimson lipstick is applied to my mouth, and i look at myself in the mirror. Whore, i think to myself.

Before i can open the door to let Him know i am done, He barges into the room.

“Done.”

Not a question, but a statement. Speechless, i am silent, but manage a short nod, yes.

He steps into my space, grabs a fistful of hair from the nape of my neck, bending my face up to His. The eyes of my Master burn into mine, then course over my face, examining me. Tipping my head back further, i gasp at the heartless pain, then cry out as He bends His head and bites my almost exposed right tit.

“You’ll be used, used hard today whore.”  He looks at me, expectantly. i stare back at Him, the bite on my breast throbbing. My hair  still  held in His fist, i’m pushed back until my thighs hit the cold porcelain of the toilet seat. He pushes me down. i can feel the skirt ride up until i am almost fully exposed. My pussy is dripping wet, and i smile a bit at the oddness.

He treats me like a whore and i am soaked. He treats me like a fucktoy, and i’m soaked. He gives me kisses and cuddles and

*crack*

His hand strikes my cheek and i am jolted from my flashback.

“pay attention whore.”

He takes my wrist, and secures it to the handrail to the right  of the toilet. The velcro strap winds round and round and round. Cheek throbbing, i stare in bemusement at the sudden reality.

i look up at Him, the first tear slipping down my face from the slap. i try to not cry, as He hates it, but this time He smiles at the black, mascara-toned line.

He secures my other hand and i am helpless.

He leaves me there, bare ass and pussy against the lid of the seat, juices pooling there. Shivering, i hear Him rummaging in the other room.

He returns with the shoes in His hands, and bends to secure each to my feet. Done, He pauses a moment and looks at His handiwork. The sadist shines out of His eyes, and i am mesmerized.  From His pocket He pulls out the clamps. The chain is dangled along my well-exposed tits, the cold making me shiver again. His hand dives into my shirt, pulling it apart, pulling out a tit by the nipple.

“Fucking whore, your nipples are already hard,” and He clamps the first one roughly. i moan, can’t help it, it fucking hurts, and He tugs it, hard.

Geezus.

He leaves the second tit, the second nipple alone for now. The chain hangs down, and i wonder for one mad second if He’ll secure the other clamp onto my pussy lip. That’d tug my nipple pretty fucking hard.

i try not to think of that. i push it away. He’s so good at reading my mind, my body language, and He doesn’t need any of my dark fantasies today.

He’s got plenty of His own.

His eyes bore into mine and once again i shiver at the Beast barely contained there. For a moment, perhaps two, we are frozen in the vignette.

Our reverie is broken by a knock at the door, and His smile flashes, intensely feral.