I so enjoyed our last His Slave Night and it had been so long, that I asked Milord for another. He grinned at me and admitted that he had been thinking the same thing. His Night began at precisely 6:00 p.m. and wouldn’t end until we woke up the next morning, he decided.
He sent a car for me. As soon as I was in the back seat, the driver – a man I didn’t know, but obviously Milord did – instructed me to strip out of my clothing and to place my clothes into a bag. He would then take possession of the bag. Remembering my hesitation and punishment from last April, I complied without complaint.
Luckily, the back windows were darkened so no other cars could see in. We drove for close to an hour and finally ended up at a small boutique hotel. The driver pulled in to the garage and opened my door. I took his hand and stepped out of the car, shivering a bit.
“Go to the elevator, Miss. Use this keycard. Once you are in the room, further instructions will await you.”
Then he drove away. Now I really started to shiver, but a quick glance around the garage assured me that I was alone. I ran to the elevator and inserted the card he had given me. When I arrived at the top floor, the elevator opened directly to a luxurious room.
“Room Service has been ordered,” the note on the bed read. “It will arrive in fifteen minutes. During that time, you will shower, shave, and apply lotion to your body. You will be seated on the edge of the bed by the time the cart is wheeled into the room.”
I gulped then rushed to the bathroom to follow his directions. I barely made it, but when the service arrived, I was seated as I should be.
I didn’t recognize the waiter, but he merely glanced at me before opening the bottle of wine, pouring me a glass and saying “drink.”
I did. He lifted the silver dome and
revealed a bowl of hearty soup. “Eat,” he said.
I did. He stood watching until I finished the entire bowl.
“If you would, please stand, face the bed and spread your legs wide. Place your hands on the bed and your head on your hands. I am to prepare you for your Lord.”
“Be aware than any hesitation or failure to follow my instructions will be reported to your Lord. You may cry out, but I will continue with the preparations unless you use your safeword. Periodically I will send pictures to your Lord for his approval. Do you have any questions?”
The man was nothing if not formal.
“No,” I answered as I assumed the position. I heard the click of a camera and blushed. The waiter began with a light, warm up spanking which quickly became more forceful. I did indeed cry out and began to squirm. He stopped, snapped another picture, and waited a moment before continuing.
“A bit redder was the directive,” he informed me.
Soon, tears flowed over my hands and I entered subspace. Another click of the camera.
“Now for your decorations,”
His voice seemed far away. There was no need for lube in my pussy, so he quickly pushed in a dildo which began to vibrate at a steady rate.
“Your Lord has forbid you to come until he is present.”
Of course he had! The man inserted a glob of tingling, cool gel into my anus and easily slid in a small, comfortable plug. I couldn’t stop myself. My body took over and I trembled with my first orgasm of the night.
“Pity. You were doing so well.”
The voice of Milord. I began to sob. Once again I had failed. Then, I heard him chuckle and understood that he had intended for me to fail so that we could both enjoy a delicious punishment.
Without hesitation, he grabbed my hips and flipped me over so that I was lying on the bed. He took one ankle, lifted it, and tied it to the bedpost then repeated the procedure with the other leg.
He sat on the bed next to me and said, “You are mine. I will use you, abuse you, and enjoy you all night long.” As he said these words, he attached clothespins to my nipples. “Your ass will be kept red” He slapped my spread pussy. “You will constantly have at least one of your holes filled.” Slap. “You will have cum in every orifice.” Slap. “And drying on your body.” Slap. “Most will be mine.” Slap. “Some will be from others of my choosing.” Slap. “By tomorrow morning, you will be incapable of walking.” Slap. “I will carry you from this hotel.” Slap.
By this point I was pulling against my bonds and crying in earnest. I was still in Submind, wanting, needing the pain as much as the pleasure. Wanting, needing the humiliation as much as the attention. Wanting, needing to give pleasure as much as to receive it.
Milord did not disappoint. Around noon the next day, he carried me, my body worn out, marked, and swollen, wearing a beautiful new dress and flats, to his car. He carried me into our home, helped me remove the dress, and tucked me gently into my own bed.
“Milord?” I murmured.
“Please, sir, can the next Slave Night be sooner than 9 months from now? Maybe once every three months?”
He laughed, kissed me, and said, “Of course.”