A Cheap Hotel
by billie babka©
It is late at night...somewhere in a large city...New York City.
I am sitting in a cab, looking doubtfully out the window at the address I have been given. The cabbie is impatient, he snaps at me.
"Come on, Lady. You getin' out or what?"
I look at him, his words not really registering, wanting for all the world to tell him to take me back, back home to my safe, comfortable apartment on the Upper East Side. I don't belong here, I tell myself, it's dirty, and dangerous.
We are on 45th Street, just down from 7th Avenue. The address is a hotel, just a doorway really, through which I can see stairs going up to the second floor. I am scared...but gripped by the same weird excitement that has permeated my body since I received the note earlier instructing me to come here.
I take a deep breath. I will not back out. I promised to do exactly as I was told, and that is what I will do.
I step out of the cab, leaning in the front passenger window to pay the driver what the meter says, adding a hefty tip in spite of his rudeness. Turning, I walk to the small doorway above which is the address I have been given, and mount the stairs. It is a long climb to what passes for the hotel lobby in an establishment like this.
It is a small square room with no adornments. The bare wood floor is scuffed and splintered here and there. The place is a firetrap, I think to myself. Directly opposite the stair way entrance there is a small window in the wall. It is covered with very thick glass and bars over the glass; half way down the opening there is a speaking tube, and below that a pass thru slot.
Behind the glass a young, pimply-faced man is sitting, looking expectantly at me. I bend over to speak into the tube, and as I do, his eyes drop down to stare openly at my breasts as my dress falls away.
In spite of myself, I blush and stammer a bit as I say, "A...ah...I…my name…is Miss Stover. I...I believe you might have a reservation for me?
For a long moment he says nothing, does nothing, except to continue to stare down my dress. Then he tears himself away from the view and turns to the side, rummaging through some papers. It seems to take forever, but finally he turns back to the window.
"Yeah…Miss Stover," he says, emphasizing the "Miss", "you got number Seven. Right down that hall over there." He stands up in his little cubicle, and makes a great production of looking around the room. "You don't got no bags?"
My face burns. "No…I…I won't be staying long."
"Yeah," he laughs, "few of our…guests…stay long. Just remember, over two hours and you owe another twenty-five."
He sits back down, picking up a magazine. He seems to lose interest in me immediately, and I feel a vague disappointment as I turn and walk slowly down the dark hallway. I can smell the dirt around me; crumbling plaster, stale urine...and the unmistakable smells of cheap sex. As I walk I feel a delicious caressing sensation as the increasingly wet lips of my vagina rub together.
Number Seven is at the extreme end of the hall. The door is ajar, and as I push it open I notice that there is no latch. I enter the room and look around. It is not lavishly furnished.
There is a bed, the head board against the wall to my right. Opposite the door is a window…no curtains…which looks out on another wing of the building. To my left is a bare wall with a Woolworth's painting of mountains and a doorway leading to the bathroom. I know it is the bathroom, because the door is open and I can see the commode. Sharing the wall with the door through which I have entered is a small, well-scarred dresser, with a chipped and cracked mirror. There is no rug.
I step further into the room closing the door behind me, acutely aware that there is no reassuring click as the latch catches...after all, there is no latch.
Moving to the bed, I set down the small case I am carrying, and then, without preamble, I undress. As rapidly as possible, I disrobe, dropping my clothes onto the bare, dirty floor.
Naked, I open the case and extract two pairs of ankle cuffs, two pairs of handcuffs, and a blindfold. I lay the items on the bed, and for a moment I stand surveying them...feeling the heat rise in my body. Then I turn and move to the window. I stand before it for a full five minutes by my watch, turning to present a different angle of my body every minute. Then I move away from the window and remove my perfume bottles from the case on the bed. I then enter the bathroom, sitting on the toilet and peeing...then I perfume myself and return to the bedroom. I set the case on the floor and climb onto the bed.
Cuffing my ankles to either side of the foot of the bed is no problem, but it becomes more difficult to fasten my arms to the headboard. First, I fasten one end of each handcuff to either side of the headboard then I spread the free end of the cuffs wide open. I place the blindfold over my eyes, and lay down...laying my wrists into the open cuffs.
One snaps shut...and I take a deep breath....and push the other wrist...the sound of that cuff snapping shut is one of the most erotic sounds I have ever heard.
And now I wait...wet and ready...spread-eagled and helpless...blind and naked. I wait....
How long I lay there, I have no idea. It seems like hours, yet it also seems to pass quickly. It is as though I am in some kind of suspended animation. Phantom thoughts come and go, darting away before I can truly grasp them. I imagin people looking at me...commenting on me...touching me. Heat begins to rise within me. My temples throb and, all alone, tied to the bed, I begin to pant...and the phantoms become more real.
A loud horn on the street below brings me back to reality, and for a time I listen. There are many noises, traffic on the street below, footsteps passing in the hallway, doors opening and closing. A couple of times I even think I hear the door to my room open. Once I think, I hear a muffled whisper. Each time, I tense, waiting, but nothing happens. After awhile I relax again.
The entire time, I am acutely aware of my body. My breasts, stretched almost flat in this position, ache, my nipples feel like spikes imbedded in the taut flesh. Between my wide-spread legs, my pussy throbs...wet with the desire that constantly grows within me.
Finally, unmistakably, I hear someone in the room, hear someone move to the left side of the bed, then I become aware of another presence on the other side. Suddenly, a hand comes down on my left breast, gripping it. I choke back a scream, then give a little cry as the hand begins to squeeze, gently kneading the tender flesh, my hardened nipple pressing into the palm.
Lips touch mine, a tongue insistently presses against my lips, gently but firmly, urging them apart until it can enter my mouth, and my own tongue fences wetly with it. Both of my breasts are being caressed now, and I sigh into the mouth that is kissing me. Hands begin to stroke my thighs, lightly...moving toward the now raging center of my passion. Unable to control myself, I begin to writhe on the bed...twisting as much as my bonds will allow.
At my head, the kissing mouth withdraws, and someone laughs softly. The hand at my middle strokes down over my mound, fingers entwining themselves in the soft hairs over my sex. A long, drawn out moan escapes me as the fingers pry open the lips of my pussy and stroke up and down the moist crevice.
A mouth descends upon my breast...sucking and licking, the hot tongue flicking rapidly across my nipple. I fill the room with my sounds, madly aroused even as I am consumed with shame, one emotion feeding on the other, driving my passions to unbearable heights as my unseen, unknown lovers caress my burning body.
How many are there? I try to decide, but give it up as my brain becomes overwhelmed with sensations. Fingers dip into my sheath, setting up a slow, gentle stroking. I pant for breath...arching up to the stroking hand...and again someone laughs. The fingers retreat...the lips and tongue at my breast retreat, and a deep sense of abandonment fills me.
"Please..." I moan into the darkness imposed by my blindfold.
Pain lances across my belly, rippling out like a rock dropped into a pond. I scream, in shock as much as in pain. And the lash...belt…whip strikes again…and again. My body jerks and thrashes, twisting against the restraining cuffs, straining against them until they cut cruelly into my wrists and ankles.
Fire…each blow is like a blow torch dancing across my flesh. Whoever is wielding the instrument is an expert. I am made to dance and twist for their amusement until I am reduced to a panting, raging mass of flesh...Then, and only then, does it cease, just as the pain has begun to turn to pleasure...just as I begin to raise within my restraints to meet the blows …they stop…and again I lay panting, abandoned.
Something touches my cheek…something wet and hard. Instinctively, I turn away, but my hair is instantly grabbed and used to turn me back, to force my lips against what I now realize is a hard penis. Sobbing, I try again to retreat. Fingers grip my nipples, twisting until I open my mouth, crying out in pain. The penis slips in, smothering my cries, pinning my tongue.
The head of the cock slides slowly across my tongue and I find myself exploring it feeling the ridge of flesh at the base of the crown. The cock twitches at the intimate touch, and I feel a thrill of delight. I begin to suck, curling my tongue over the intruder, letting my cheeks sink in to cradle it.
The fingers still work on my nipples, alternating between hurting and caressing as I suck on the cock, but they fade in importance, becoming only background to the sensations racing through me. I concentrate on sucking, letting my world shrink to only my mouth, to giving pleasure to the owner of the prod that fills it. I wonder if it was he who whipped me, and find myself hoping that it was.
He is patient with me, letting me set the pace. Only by the jerks and twitches of his cock can I gage his pleasure, but I know when he is close to cumming, and I suck harder, raising my head from the bed to improve the angle, taking more of his meat into my mouth. And then, I feel his cock swell and I slip my lips up the shaft, keeping just the head in my mouth as his seed gushes in long, velvety strands across my tongue. I can hear my own wet noises as his sperm shoots into my mouth, as I suck and gulp his spend. Drained, his cock beginning to soften, he pulls away, his prick trailing wetly over my cheek.
Dimly, I become aware of being lifted, of something…a pillow being slipped beneath my ass. At the same time the bed sags around my head and I realize that someone is standing over me, straddling my head. I sense the person begin to move, moving down, slowly squatting over my face, and as the body comes nearer and nearer, I realize it is a woman.
"No...no...please...not that," I sob, twisting my head away. Again hands grab my hair, holding me in place, face up, as the woman continues to lower herself upon me. I sob, half gagging as a wet cunt settles over my face and she rubs herself on my mouth. Her hands replace the others' knotted in my hair, and, from far off I hear…"Lick bitch…suck."
"No, no," I scream into her cunt, but she only tightens her grip on my hair, lighting a fire in my scalp. She tugs on it until I am sure she is going to pull little pieces away. Desperate, I open my mouth, my tongue curls out, touching the woman-flesh, and she sighs triumphantly above me. She is soaking, juice drooling out of her, but, as she relaxes her punishing grip on my hair, I find the sensation not altogether unpleasant.
My tongue begins to explore with a little more interest, finding and stroking her clit, gratified by the squirms my touch elicit. Encouraged, my oral muscle travels up and down the oozing crevice which engulfs my lips. My tongue licks over her pussy lips, circling around the mysterious passageway until, as though with a mind of its own, it dives into the depths and I strain to push it as deep as I can, feeling a twinge of pain as my teeth cut into the base of my out-stretched tongue. Back out then, curling over until I can use the flat of my tongue to lick back up to her clit, sucking the little nub between my lips flogging it with my tongue.
Above me she begins to moan grinding herself down on my mouth; at times threatening to smother me with her demanding bush. And the longer it goes on, the more I warm to my task. Cunt-licker, dyke…the words race through my brain in time with my plunging, lapping tongue, and even as they fill me with shame, they feed the fires of my lust and drive me on, until the room is filled with the sounds of my frenzied, feasting lips.
Her gyrations on my face grow more frantic. She begins to gasp and jam herself down until my jaws ache with the pressure. And then she cries out and juice fairly gushes from her as orgasmic spasms shake her body and I drink her as she melts into my mouth.
Finally she falls with a contented sigh to the bed beside me, and as she does, I feel someone crawl between my legs. Before I can move, or even think, the lips of my pussy are being forced apart by the head of a cock. The man fucks into me in one smooth motion, his balls bouncing against my ass.
I scream; scream in pure delight, far beyond any modesty. My cum begins almost at the instant the cock reaches its fullest depth, and never stops as he strokes and pummels my pleasured sheath. I rant and pitch beneath him, humping, fucking up as he fucks down, my cunt squeezing and milking his pumping tool as my mind bounces from one ecstatic crest to another.
My head thrashes from side to side, my hands clawing at the bed as the fucking goes on and on, my pussy alternately stretched and unraveled by the invading and retreating prick, my entire being centered in my cock-filled cunt.
The man begins to pant, leaning over me, his breath hot in my ear as he pumps his cock faster and faster into me. My hips bounce up off the bed, matching his violent lunges and my love muscles grip his slippery meat, holding him deep within me as his warm semen begins to spurt, gushing and bathing my pussy, overflowing the pleasured hole. I can feel the warm flow as it runs down my ass, wetting the bed beneath us.
His scalding ball juice splatters deep inside me and I groan aloud with each spurt, my cunt clinging to his erupting rod, cumming again and again.
At last, depleted, he pulls his softening cock from my hole, leaving me feeling empty and alone, barely conscious.
Slowly I recover my senses. The room is silent. I am alone again. For a moment I panic…have they had left me cuffed to the bed, unable to free myself? I jerk my arms and realize my left arm is free. Calm returns and I begin to carefully feel around on the bed near my freed hand. Sure enough, I feel a key. With difficulty, I manage to twist my right arm enough so that I can unlock the cuff. I sit up and pull the blindfold from my eyes.
The room is empty. My dress, along with my shoes and purse, are still lying on the floor. My underclothes are gone. I sit up and unfasten the ankle cuffs. For a time I sit there massaging the circulation back into my wrists and ankles; reflecting on what has happened. Then, with a sigh, I get up and pad barefoot to the window. Again I stand, displaying myself to anyone who happens to be glancing in my direction, cum oozing out of my pussy and slowly dripping down my thighs. I stand there again for a full five minutes.
Then I slip my dress on and push my bare feet into my heels. I find my case under the bed and unfasten the cuffs from the bed, placing them and the blindfold back into their case. With one last look around, feeling a warm glow of satisfaction, I open the door and walk back down the hallway to the lobby.
The pimply faced boy is still at the caged-in desk. His eyes again go to my breasts as I lean down to pass him the unused…and useless…key.
"Will you want another reservation for next week?" he asks.
"Yes," I say. "The same room, please."