Set me free.

Set me free.

In the morning I groaned into wakefulness. My body ached from the previous nights exertions. As I came closer to wakefulness I found new pains. It had been a night to remember. If only I could marshal my thoughts.

And as I did remember I began to feel uneasy.

Sounds came from an ensuite bathroom, and I head heels on hard granite flooring. Then she came out of the bathroom already dressed and adjusting an earing, hurrying across the room to pick up her handbag. I struggled to remember her name.

“Good morning… you,” I said with a smile to cover up my oversight.

“Gotta run,” she said. “I’ve got a 9 o’clock.”

I groaned. What kind of pervert organises meetings for 9 am?

Memories of last night began to clarify. That’s when I noticed what I was wearing.

“Ouch,” I said as I moved. For the first time I was aware of the sharp pain in my back.

“I’ll call you,” she said as she headed for the door.

And then she was gone, patent leather shoes clacking away with her perfect ankles.

I am not what you call a morning person. I slipped back into sleep and it wasn’t until an hour later that I woke once more. This time things came together more swiftly.

What the hell was I wearing? This nylon thing felt unfamiliar, and then I noticed the other clothes scattered on the floor. Stockings, panties. And who the hell was that earlier leaving this hotel room?

I sat up in the bed. I was wearing a pink fluffy neglige. That was odd. And then the memories of last night flooded in.

‘Oh, my god,’ I thought.

I joined the dots and remembered the bar in the hotel. I’d fallen into conversation with… I still couldn’t remember her name… with her. Black hair. Well groomed and sophisticated in her appearance. Professional. Absolutely precise. She’d told the barman how she liked her martini and she’d been the picture of reserve.

We fell into easy conversation and she said she was visiting her company’s local office. I explained I lived across town, but my car had developed trouble and I’d dropped it in for a service, which was supposed to be ready at five, but they’d needed to order a part. Perhaps it would be ready later tonight. I chose to stay in town rather than tramp all the way out to my place and then come back in. With luck the car would be ready later.

She listened politely, and we shared first a drink and then another. Then dinner.

She said to me I could buy her dinner but she wouldn’t sleep with me. That was a little forward, as I hadn’t made any suggestion that I would.

“Who said I want to sleep with you,” I asked.

“Yeah, right,” she said off handedly, and ordered the sorbet desert without even looking up. As she sat there in the tight skirt I couldn’t help but notice her pert breasts. Her black bra was just visible through the dress, and I could see the way it cupped her breasts. She was fine boned and her breasts not large, but looking almost as though they were molded to perfection on her body.

She’d been the picture of propriety up to that moment. Her trim waist, expensive business suit and flawless make up all suggested experience. I would place her age between 32 and 42 but I couldn’t guess closer. Nice earrings, I remember thinking as she sipped her coffee.

I glanced at my cell and wondered if I should call the mechanic. They’d be finishing soon, I guessed.

“You in a hurry,” she asked, noticing how I’d checked my phone.

“Not at all. I just wondered if the car was going to be ready.”

“It won’t be,” she said with certainty. “They only tell you they’ll work late on it so they can jack the bill up. They’ll have some reason it had to be kept till the morning. They’re at home watching the Kardashians already.”

She spoke with such authority. I couldn’t help but be impressed by her. She seemed so in control.

“If you like,” she said, “you can ask for my phone number. I’ll give you it, but I won’t sleep with you,” she said.

“What makes you think I want to sleep with you?” I asked.

“I know what you’re going to do. Take my phone number and never call me. You’ll tear it up and that will be that.”

I also got the sorbet. We drank a little more.

+++

Sitting up in the bed I one more noticed the pain in my back. I struggle from the bed and staggered to the bathroom. My body ached. As I looked at my face I almost recoiled. Lipstick? Oh god, yes. It was coming back to me. I slipped out of the pink negligée.

Glancing at the shampoos and lotions provided I noticed a mens convenience kit, supplied thoughtfully by the hotel. A razor, shaving foam and a toothbrush. I began the mornings ablutions, and then turned and caught sight of my back in the mirror.

I gasped at the sight of the red lines. Oh yes, that’s right. The whip. Now it was all coming back. That was a hell of a shock. And the way she’d secured my wrists with stockings.

I’d been on my knees at the time, and she’d pulled the riding crop from her valise. An odd thing to travel with, I thought, and then the stinging pain. Jeez, this was meant to be fun. I gasped in pain, and looked up at her.

Her smile was so gentle, and she reached down, taking my chin n her hand and lifting my face to her. She moved those perfect lips closer and they brushed my own. My eyes closed longing for the kiss that would surely follow, but instead another slash and the lightning burst of pain behind my eyes came. I failed to stifle the whimper, but before I could speak she laughed, and then tossed the nylons at me, and her discarded black silk panties.

“Put them on, bitch,” she said. Her eyes widened a little as she gave me the instruction. It was hypnotic and irresistible. I glanced at the nylons and then reached for them.

I felt so caught up in this game that I could only do as I was told. At first I struggled with bound hands, but then she released the bonds. I moved slowly, and all the while she tapped her calf with the crop. Dressed in corset and a pair of briefs that can only have been leather, she stood over me as I did as I was told.

“I don’t usually do this,” I said.

“Shut up and get dressed,” she said.

I did as I was told and then sat on the stool before the desk in the hotel room. She stood before me and applied the make up she’d taken from her handbag.

She reached into the valise again and pulled out a blonde wig.

“There,” she said as she placed it on my head and arranged the hair to her satisfaction. “Now you look better. Now you can sleep with me.”

+++

I washed. I inspected the marks on my back once again. I’d never been into this sort of thing, and as much as I searched myself for some clue, I didn’t think I actually enjoyed what had happened last night. It had been overwhelming, but I couldn’t say I enjoyed it. Well, perhaps that’s not quite right. It was hard to explain.

Our love making was not like I’d experienced before. If she wanted me to wear this and got off on it, I was fine with it. After all, she had a body that was the stuff of every man’s fantasy. Her breasts, not to large and not to small, were just right. Goldilocks breasts.

And as she pulled me into her I felt her warm wet body shift and gyrate as thought she were snakelike in her movement. It was like being within the coils of some constricting creature. Perhaps that was why it was so hard to brush off. I’d not experienced a woman like this before. As she moved… and then I realised what it was. Before I had fucked women. I had done it to them. This was different. She had fucked me. Totally, she had fucked me. I may have been the one with the penis, but make no mistake, she had fucked me. I had been her bitch.

As I dressed I realised that she’d controlled me just as she’d controlled her martini. She liked it just so. And I was ‘just so.’

The mechanic called at ten. The car was ready, but they’d had to come in early to reset the computer fuel system. They knew I wanted it in a hurry so hadn't bothered calling at 6 am to confirm it, and hoped I didn’t mind the extra $180 charge for the reset.

I walked toward the mechanic, and that’s when I noticed the piece of paper in my right pocket. It was a scrap of hotel note paper with a phone number. I tore it up and tossed it in the garbage bin on the sidewalk and kept walking.

That was yesterday morning.

She texted me today and told me to go back to the hotel. Sitting in the bar I ordered her the martini the way she liked it and waited. She’ll be here soon. I know she will. And she knows too. I couldn’t have resisted coming any more than I could have got out of that mechanic’s bill. Or anymore than I could remember her name.

How silly, that I keep glancing at the revolving door hoping to hear those heels on the granite of the hotel lobby floor.

She’ll be here soon.

Fiona Dobson

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