It was a clear night, but there was a cool breeze. As Hayley stepped from the car, the cold air passed quickly through her skirt, a chill reminder that she wasn't wearing panties, or a bra, for that matter. Still, her husband, Steven, let her dress conservatively enough that no one would notice. Although, her breasts did jiggle as she walked.

It was Friday evening, and they had just shared a nice romantic dinner at their favorite fondue restaurant. It had been quite a surprise. Her husband had arranged for his parents to baby-sit through Sunday afternoon. On the one hand, she was excited to be away from the house and the kids for the weekend. The trouble was, Steven had that "kinky" look in his eyes. Sometimes, he seemed to plan for sex. This wasn't bad, except that he usually had expectations of her, expectations which she found difficult to fulfill. Like pretending to be a "Mistress" for a night, or even giving him a lengthy blowjob. She didn't mind doing different things, but she preferred good old-fashioned sex, regardless of position, as long as his cock was in her cunt. And she didn't like to be responsible for the foreplay. She preferred that he do the work of turning her on, rather than the other way around. So his "schemes" were often half-played and concluded, likely, with some disappointment on his part, though he never complained.

Their sex life had dwindled lately, due to generally being busy, raising kids, and his occasional business travel. So while she was looking forward to some intimate time together, she knew that this wouldn't be like a vacation. She should have suspected something when he helped clean up the house. That made sense only after his parents arrived. The house was, at least, presentable. But his intentions became clearer, if unspoken, when he directed her to her outfit for the evening.

He had stayed in the room, watching her change from her sweatpants and T-shirt. When she had reached for the skirt on the bed, he had simply pointed towards her panties and said, "off with those." As for the bra, "and give me that." She put on a gold silk sleeveless blouse, with a V- neck that gave a small hint of her cleavage. Tucked in her black, almost knee-length skirt, the blouse made her 38C breasts look pronounced. But he had also laid out a black jacket that would make her breasts less obvious. He had tossed these into their dirty clothes basket as she began her makeup. He had disappeared for a short time while she "freshened up." Then she found a suitcase and began packing. Steven had returned, however, and said, "Uh, that won't be necessary. I packed your stuff earlier today. You just need to pack your toiletries." A very reasonable thought had occurred to her that, in all likelihood, this was the last she would see of undergarments for the weekend.

And, with a mild disappointment, she realized that Steven was "scheming" a weekend, not just for a romantic time together, but for sex. Or more specifically, sex orchestrated to please him.

After saying goodbye to the kids and his parents, they had left for the restaurant. Dinner had really been quite enjoyable as they caught up on events during the week. Then he shifted the conversation, in mild tones, thankfully, so that people in other booths couldn't hear.

"We've gotten a bit lazy about sex, lately. You've been reading romance novels, I've been watching sports on TV, one or both of us has been too tired, and the kids have ruled our evenings to some degree. I've been planning this surprise weekend for several weeks, but it wasn't until this week, sitting alone in motel rooms, that I decided what I wanted for the weekend. And that, my dear, is you."

Whether he paused to collect his thoughts or paused for effect she didn't know. The result was a large question mark in her mind, suddenly jumping in font size and becoming quite bold. She had suspected a scheme, and now he was going to tell her. Wouldn't he?

"I have another surprise. I've made reservations for a month from now for a weekend in Savannah, GA, in an old bed and breakfast downtown. That's going to be a romantic weekend. Walking, shopping, dining at the waterfront. But after eleven years of marriage, I haven't been fully satisfied with our sex life. Most of the time, it's great. But, sometimes, not all that often, even, I want you in a different way. This isn't about love; it's about sex. And this weekend, that means more than an hour in the bed making love. I want your body, that is, I want you to give me your body, any way I please."

Hayley exhaled slightly. "You want me to be your sex slave?" What else could it mean?

"Yes. But it's more than that. It's not that I want a woman to do anything I want. I want the woman that I love, my wife, to give me her body, to do whatever I ask, for my pleasure."

Not for her pleasure. "And you're buying me off with another more.conventional.trip to Savannah?"

"It's booked regardless of how this weekend goes."

Hayley considered what he had said. Steven had not had sex with another woman before they had married. In fact, he had hardly dated. She wasn't concerned that he would be thinking extra-maritally, because she was confident in their love and their lives together. But he needed to experiment. And, he wanted to do it with her. That made it something worth doing.

"Okay."

Steven smiled at that. "Okay, what?"

"Okay, from head to toe, I'm yours." Steven just looked at her, with patient expectation. She knew what he wanted to hear. "I'll do anything you say." There. It was easily said, anyway.

Steven became very still, looking deep into her eyes, a very contented grin on his face. The moment was awkward due to its length. After 15 to 20 odd seconds, his eyes slowly lowered from hers, pausing to consider her nose, her ear, her cheek, her lips, then her neck. She wasn't sure how his look should be interpreted. She didn't feel like a piece a meat being examined. He was somehow communicating sex, and if not the act, then certainly the sensuous possibilities of.well, more than just her face, but her flesh. Then his eyes dropped quickly to her left breast. The restaurant was somewhat cool, but her nipples were hard for another reason, entirely.

Hayley watched his eyes. Intense. They slowly circled her breast, then crossed to her right breast. His constant grin made his eyes seem to twinkle. The thought was interrupted when she realized that his grin had given way to movement. The grin returned, and it seemed the strangest of time warps when the sounds he had made registered in her brain. Show me. She exhaled sharply. His eyes had never moved.

The table across from them had just emptied, and a busboy was clearing it, his back to them. They were at the end of an aisle, and she was facing towards the wall, where no one in the other booths could see. She opened her jacket more fully, as it covered about half of her breasts. Then she untucked her blouse. A quick look confirmed the bus boy was wiping the table. She waited until he finished and walked away, and then she quickly raised part of her blouse to expose her right breast, the one he had continued to look at. She flashed her nipple, then lowered her blouse.

He looked into her eyes. His grin was gone. Her little show she had found exciting, but his disappointment was obvious. He spoke, in short, measured tones. "The breast. Not the nipple." His eyes lowered to her left breast, indicating what he wanted. She gathered the bottom of her blouse in her hands, then raised it, quickly, as high as she could, exposing herself. She saw him hold up three fingers. What? Then he closed them, and raised one in a counting motion. Oh. She held the cloth until his fingers counted three, which he certainly did in no particular hurry. But the grin and the twinkle returned. As he counted three, the hostess stepped directly to the side of her table, her back to Hayley. A couple was seated across from them, and Hayley quickly covered herself. As the hostess stepped away, their waiter returned with their check. He apparently couldn't help his eyes from wondering briefly to Hayley's chest. She was covered, but the silk blouse did nothing to disguise the full curves underneath. As he turned to leave, he made eye contact with her and smiled, and it was moments later that she realized her untucked blouse probably had given him more than a subtle hint. She tried to discretely tuck her blouse back in. She hadn't been embarrassed to this point, but now her face flushed red as Steven and the guy in the opposite booth watched her stuff her blouse back into her skirt.

Shortly, when they were on the highway, she was quite pleased to see that they were heading downtown. That is, assuming they were going to a hotel. She couldn't imagine Steven taking her to a club or a bar. It just wasn't his taste. As he pulled up to the Marriott, she decided she was really looking forward to the evening. The restaurant had been kind of fun, really, and despite their light talk on the drive, Steven's expression reminded her of a child seeing all the presents under the Christmas tree for the first time. She had never stayed in a hotel downtown, and, despite, or maybe because of, whatever Steven might want her to do, she felt like a gift box ready to be unwrapped.

Her husband carried one of their suitcases, leaving another in the trunk. Registration was quick, and soon they were entering a non- smoking room on the 20th floor with a king size bed. The room was tastefully decorated, and the view had a good angle of the city skyline, although the hotel across the street blocked some of the view.

He placed his hands on her shoulders, something more akin to a coach than a lover. "I love you very, very much," he said, and I'm looking forward to our evening together." He pulled her close, but only close enough to give her a long kiss on the lips. But their bodies didn't touch. He tilted his head slightly, and then he kissed her on her neck. This was her body's trigger to get in the mood very quickly. In this case, she was already in the mood, so kissing her neck made her ready to be ravaged.

"First, I want you to take a bubble bath." He reached in the suitcase and produced a bottle. "Also, I want you to shave your legs and all your cunt hair, except a vertical line about ¬" wide. I'll see you when you're done."

Although she was ready for his cock in her cunt, the idea of a bath sounded great, as he had not given her time to prepare before leaving the house. She had shaved her pussy before, and although she didn't get anything out of it, she knew her husband did. So she went to the bathroom.

When she had finished, she reentered the room, naked and towel-less, expecting to have her itch scratched in the very near future. The room was dark. She called for her husband, but he didn't answer. She turned on the lights, looked for him, and almost tripped on a chair when the phone rang and startled her. As she raised the receiver and sat on the bed, she realized that the curtains were open in the window. She was torn between covering herself and closing the curtains when she heard her husband on the phone.

"All clean?" She hadn't even thought to say "hello."

"I feel much better. Where are you?," she asked.

"I'll ask the questions. You obey. Sit in the chair in the middle of the room, and tell me what you see."

She hadn't noticed it in her rush, but he had rearranged the table and chairs. The chair was set about 10' from the window, facing the window. She didn't like the prospects of being seen by someone in the neighboring hotel. She quickly sat down, hoping that Steven would get this over with. "I can see a building across the street."

"How many rooms can you see?"

"I can see 10 or 12 rooms."

"Good girl. Open the suitcase, which you should be able to reach from the chair." Her chair was at the foot of the bed, and the suitcase was at the edge. She opened it, and didn't find any clothes. "There is an envelope. Open it and read it to me."

She read it. "I am a sex slave for the weekend. Because I have neglected to share my body with my husband, I will offer any part of my body and do anything that you ask. As I read the rest of this letter, I will cup my breasts with one hand and play with my nipple." This was embarrassing. What if someone was looking? She read ahead, now pinching and pulling a nipple, her "mood" quickly fading, hoping this would end soon. "Because I have been stingy with my body, I will show anyone who is looking what it is capable of doing." This was madness. She was glad that all the windows across the street were dark. And anyway, no one could recognize her face at that distance. She continued reading the letter aloud. "When I am done reading these instructions, I will reach inside the suitcase pocket and put on the blindfold. I will then remove the vibrator from the other pocket and bring myself to orgasm."

"Do it. I will return shortly."

As she slipped on the blindfold, she was still comforted that there were no lights in the rooms across the street. She inserted the vibrator and started playing, but it was much harder to get in the mood again, especially with the world watching. It just didn't turn her on. Still, the faster she orgasmed, the sooner she could close the curtains. She increased the pace of her thrusts with the vibrator. Nothing.

She had to find some way of getting this over way. How would Steven know if she came, anyway? A thought struck her that perhaps he was in one of the windows across the street. The idea worked, anyway. She spread her legs, giving her phantom husband a show. She began rubbing her clit with one hand and moving the vibrator with the other. Let him watch. She felt the familiar sensations beginning to build, but it was slow. It took...a long time, but when she was at the crest, she gave herself to it and came with a shout, or was it a whisper? But it was good. When she caught her breath, she raised the blindfold and closed the curtains. He didn't say she couldn't. She laid down on the bed, waiting for him.

It took him a lot longer than she had thought. He came in quietly, as passkeys made a lot less noise than keys. "Where were you?"

"Hush! You will be silent unless I ask you a question. Now, go open those curtains, all the way!" The curtains had been open about 8', and she was surprised to find that, as she opened them, the window covered the full length of the wall. There were lights on in some of the rooms she had not seen before, and she retreated quickly from the window.

Steven turned on more of the lights in the room "Get on the bed and stand on your knees." She did, thinking that if this were a stage, she would be in the spotlight, which was not a welcome thought, now that her passion had subsided. He climbed on the bed and placed the blindfold over her eyes. He pulled her arms behind her and tied her wrists together with Velcro straps. She felt something slip around her neck. More velcro. It somehow connected to the Velcro holding her wrists. He leaned her forward, so her head was resting on a stack of pillows and her ass was in the air.

She felt his fingers rub the smooth skin of her cunt, softly, checking for sharp hairs, perhaps. He wouldn't find any. His finger entered her pussy, and his thumb rubbed her clit. "You did a good job of shaving, slave. I wonder, have any of your heroines in your romantic novels been treated as a sexual slave? What do they call their captor?"

"Master," she managed to say.

"Good. And what do they withhold from their master?"

"They resist at first, but they always give in," she said.

"Why?"

"Because they secretly like it," she said. And, she admitted, to some extent, she did so far.

"And although not intentional, what have you withheld from me the past several weeks?," he whispered in her ear.

"Sex", she answered.

"Be more graphic," he said as he applied greater pressure to her clit.

"My breasts, my nipples, my pussy," she said.

"What else?"

Her breath was getting shorter. "My hands on your cock. My tongue on your cock."

"On whose cock?"

She understood. "My Master's cock."

She felt him remove his hand from her cunt, and he began to lightly run it over her spine, along the back of her thighs, along the side of her breasts, and along the side of her cheek to her lips.

"And what will you withhold from your Master this weekend?"

"Nothing," she said.

"Nothing," he repeated.

He helped her stand. She wanted his cock in her, and she was dizzy from standing so quickly. He moved her. As the cold pane of glass first pressed against her breasts, she realized where she was.

"Your punishment for your absent sexual appetite over the past several weeks is this. Any person who looks out their window from that motel will see you. You will be anonymous with the backlighting and the blindfold. Yet I'm certain that they will be able to see your breasts and your cunt." With her hands still tied behind her back, her breasts were thrust against the glass, and he moved behind her to press all of her against the glass, spreading her feet as he did so. She was chilled on the outside only.

"Let's see, slave. There are 5 windows that I can see clearly that have their lights on. To end this, you must beg your Master to fuck you in front of the window."

She didn't consider the embarrassment, because she wasn't particularly embarrassed. She could hear Steven stripping, so she wouldn't be the only one naked. And the odds were astronomical that anyone she knew would be in the opposing windows on that particular night. Besides, she knew enough about how light worked that she was certain anyone who looked would know that she was naked and getting fucked. But with the light behind her, she would mostly be a dark shape. And she wanted that fucking.

"Please, Master, fuck me. I want your cock in my pussy. Fuck me hard. I know I've been a bad little girl. Fuck me so anyone out there can see." He pulled her back slightly from the window, and then placed his hands under her tits, feeling their weight. Then he turned her to a profile view, and began pulling on her nipples.