Bondage Sex Stories

At The Conference


She looked around the hotel room and thought . Certainly, as starving grad students, neither he or she could afford a room at a hotel like this. Organizing the volunteers had been a bitch, but she was looking forward to the conference. She spotted the balcony overlooking the city streets and blushed. She was reasonably sure her Master wouldn't miss that opportunity when he got here!

Pulling off her traveling clothes, she couldn't quite face putting on her professional demeanor and finding the chairwoman quite yet. she thought. The bed was comfy (not surprising, given the cost of these hotel rooms!), and she began to play with herself distractedly, running her hand through her bush, teasing her clit, while she thought of her Master, and wondered what he might cook up.

"Well, I see you're appropriately dressed, slave, but I don't remember given you permission to masturbate..."

"I'm sorry, Master, but I was thinking of you," she flirted, hoping to get away with her infraction.

"You're being pushy, again. For a slave, you seem awfully rebellious."

He stopped, hearing a knock on the door. After looking through the peephole, he got an evil grin on his face, backed off, and announced "be right there..."

"Open the door, slave."

She stared at him in dismay. Sure, fantasies were one thing, but real life? "Now," he said, smacking her ass hard enough to leave a mark.

"Yes, Master." On the other side of the door stood an astounded bellboy. He took in her full breasts, tiny waist, and slightly rounded stomach with the faint stretch marks that were the emblem of motherhood.

"W..would you like some ice, Mam?" the bellboy stammered, offering her a full ice bucket.

"Do we want ice, Master?"

"Yes, slave, and don't forget to tip the fellow."

She took the bucket from the frozen bellboys hand, and fetched the empty bucket from the dresser. Handing the empty bucket to the still staring bellboy, she felt her inner demons take over, said "Buy low, sell high," and closed the door.

"That wasn't nice, slave. Funny, but not nice. Now bring the ice, fetch the toy bag from my pack, and come out onto the balcony."

Turning to follow her Master's orders, she tried to control her fear and excitement. He knew that while she liked bondage and had become a real enthusiast for certain kinds of pain, she was still intimidated by the thought of anyone else seeing her. To truly dominate her, he had to push her limits, if only a little bit.

Her Master stood on the balcony, pulling his long red hair back into a ponytail. She shuddered with anticipation. Pulling his hair back was a sure fire sign of a fairly serious scene. At the door to the balcony, he blindfolded her and cuffed her wrists behind her.

"There are a million people down on that street," he whispered in her ear. She strained to see through the blindfold, but the silk hugged her face too closely. He bent her forward over the waist-high solid railing. Her breasts hung down into the warm breeze. She felt as though they were huge, that someone from the street would reach out and touch them any moment, although they were, in fact, a good fifteen stories up.

"Ooo!" she squealed, as she felt ice against her thighs, moving towards her clit. The cold felt good in the heat, but drove her wild when rubbed against her clit and into her snatch. She jerked, and her breasts swayed, reminding her of her exposed position . Her Master reached around and ran the ice over her nipples, leaving them erect and aching to be touched.

"They like seeing your nipples erect," he said, returning the ice to her clit. "Lets make them sway a bit more." She felt his hard cock draw across her snatch a couple of times, then insistently pushing against her asshole. The water from the ice had diluted her juices, so he was barely lubed. She concentrated hard on relaxing her asshole and accommodating him, but the ice he was still using on her snatch and clit effectively prevented that. She gasped in pain and pleasure as he thrust his way into her.

"I'd clamp your nipples, but I want the folks on the street to think you're a slut, not a wierdo." She had forgotten about them again, and she gasped again as her feelings of exposure made her even more tense. Her Master began to thrust in earnest, rubbing hard on her clit, and pushing her belly painfully against the balcony railing. She lost herself into the experience completely, drowning in the conflicting sensations. The spasms of his orgasm pushed her over the edge, and she came in waves, collapsing, held up only by his hands around her waist.

In silence, her Master drew her back from the balcony into the room. He uncuffed her hands, turned her about, drew off the blindfold, and smiled down into her eyes.

"Hello, my love," he said.

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