Chapter 3

I look through the peephole to check that Mr Chesterton is doing as he is told and smirk to see him trying to undo his trousers one-handed, trying not to drop the balls in his other hand. I turn from the door and reach for the phone, dialing zero for reception:

“Good afternoon, how can I help?”

“Please could you send up a bottle of champagne right away, room 203. Leave the cork in.”

“Certainly, ma’am. I’ll have it sent up right away”

I return to the peephole. Mr Chesterton has done well. He’s got his shoes and slacks off, and one sleeve of his shirt. He is, however, struggling with his cufflinks. It turns out it’s pretty hard to undo them while holding a large pair of testicles, and it doesn’t seem to have occurred to him to swap them to the other hand. Sweat beads on his reddening face and he glances furtively up and down the corridor. He hesitates, swallowing a couple of times before, incredibly, putting the large rubber balls between his teeth. He goes to work on the remaining cufflink as a “ding” signals the arrival of the elevator.

The bell boy’s footsteps approach and stop:

“Is everything alright, Sir?”

Mr Chesterton stares at the bell boy with a look of abject horror, his face burning now a bright scarlet as he realises he is standing in a hotel corridor with a large pair of black testicles in his mouth and wearing only a pair of y-fronts displaying, not to put too fine a point on it, a noticeable bulge. There is a long pause before Mr Chesterton nods a little too quickly, setting the fat around his chest and belly wobbling.

The bell boy raises his eyebrows, trying to suppress a smirk as he comes to the door and knocks:

“Room service!”

I wait a moment before opening the door, putting on my best professional smile:

“Ah, thank you” I say, taking the bottle from him, pretending that there is nothing amiss.

“One moment” I reach for my purse, taking out 50 bucks and pressing it into his hand. I lean over, whispering in his ear:

“Same again if you can be back here in 45 minutes with a bucket of ice and a couple of footlong hotdogs” I lean back and wink at him as he gives me a puzzled look before looking down at his hand:

“Y-yes ma-am. Thank you ma-am.”

He strides away, glancing back at Mr Chesterton before shaking his head and walking back towards the elevator.

“Get those off and get inside before you embarrass yourself any further” I hold the door open as Mr Chesterton scrambles to remove his underwear and grabs his clothes before scuttling into the room.

I sniff theatrically as he passes, catching an odour of stale sweat, with a little urine and far too much cologne.

“You stink, you disgusting little boy, get in the bath on your hands and knees.”

I go to my case and retrieve a pair of handcuffs and a paddle made from stiff black leather with a wooden handle. I return to the bathroom and find Mr Chesterton on all fours in the bath, as ordered. He is, however, looking at me as I enter.

“Seeing as you’re a disgusting pervert I think we need some ground rules. First, you will not look at me without my permission. Fat, dirty old dogs like you do not get to look at their mistress except as a special treat. Second, you will speak only when asked a direct question. Your only permitted answer is ‘yes, mistress Santos’. Good dogs never say ‘no’ to their mistress. You will find out about other rules when you have broken them. Is that understood?”

There is a long pause as Mr Chesterton realises he still has the rubber testicles in his mouth, and takes them back in his hand before answering:

“Yes, mistress Santos”

“Oh dear, bad dog. You looked at your mistress without permission; you were busy licking those balls like the dirty dog you are when you should have been holding them in your hand; and you were late answering a question from your mistress. You will be punished. Get your nose down into the bottom of the bath and keep it there and get ypur hands behind your back”