Such a pretty face... pity to have to cover it with so much leather. But we can change that later. The night is young, and we have many alternatives at our disposal.

She kneels before me on a coffee table, her thighs lashed tight to her ankles and her collared neck tied down to her knees. I love watching her fingers claw desperately at the knots holding each wrist to its opposite elbow so her arms make a triangle behind her back.

I settle into my armchair and admire her long blonde hair. It has just enough wave to give it a flowing texture as it cascades over her shoulders from underneath the straps of the gag that's holding her mouth permanently open for my pleasure. At first, I thought I would show some compassion by leaving the rubber plug out of the metal shower drain that's wrapped with electrical tape and jammed between her teeth. But I couldn't afford to let her complaints wake the people in the rooms below my suite.

I imagine her large brown eyes trapped behind the darkness of the blindfold, open wide with fury and trepidation. Or perhaps they were closed in silent resignation to her fate. After all, she didn't complain when I first slipped the handcuffs around her wrists more than two hours ago.

No, she had been exceptionally willing to do whatever I asked of her. Greed will do that to most people, especially those who get paid on commission. And she had smelled the kind of payoff that gives an inexperienced sales associate instant respect both at work and at the bank.

It was random luck that I chose the restaurant where I first saw her; this is my first visit to this particular city and I'm not well-versed in its local cuisine. She was vivacious and pretty, a flaxen dynamo who talked a mile a minute as she explained the intimate details of her work to a friend. Cocking an ear toward their table, I was able to determine the name of her employer, the kind of product she sold, and just how hard a time she was having landing a big account. I also found out her name, but that's not important any more.

That very afternoon, I placed a call to her office and described myself as a potential client from overseas who needed a large quantity of the company's product in a very short amount of time. When I was patched into the sales supervisor, I asked for a meeting with one of his reps the next day. I also indicated I was talking to his competitors, and I would be making my decision no later than the following morning. When he told me he would set up an immediate appointment with his top rep named Jim, I hinted broadly that I might be more favorably disposed toward negotiating with someone a little easier on the eyes. Yes, yes, of course, he said brightly as he mentioned the name of my charming young prey from the restaurant.

Dear, if you stop wriggling your arms so much, that rope digging into your lovely bottom might be a bit more bearable.

Of course she showed up early for our four o'clock meeting at my suite high atop the overpriced hotel I was sure would impress her. I was pleased to see her boss had been forthright about my thinly-veiled expectations. She delivered herself to my door in a fashionable red business suit with a noteworthy hemline, topped off by a sleeveless white turtleneck that clung to every delicious curve of her waist and cleavage. I could easily make out the shape of a quarter-cup bra boosting her ample bosom, the large nipples standing tall and erect as they pushed against the tight material of her shirt. Her legs drifted down in a gauzy black cloud, from bands of elastic and lace to a pair of open-toed high heels that are as fetching as they are slutty. Their dual straps around each ankle conveniently eliminate the need for special locks to hold them on her feet now.

After she made a lengthy presentation, followed by a heated discussion of terms, I announced that I couldn't continue another moment without first eating. She happily agreed to join me, so we dined extravagantly, laughing and talking about nothing of consequence while consuming a healthy quantity of spirits. At the conclusion of the meal, I invited her back to my suite and pretended to negotiate further. I could see her desperation increase with every rebuff, but it wasn't until she stroked one of my thighs with the tips of her blood-red fingernails that I knew I had her hooked.

I can wait no longer, so I untie the knot around her knees, lift up her head, pop the plug out of the gag, and lower the open hole over my stiffening member. She moans softly as she pokes at the intruder with her tongue. Slowly, I caution her. It would be a grave mistake if it were to somehow fall out of your mouth. She signals her understanding by treating my manhood as if it were the sweetest lollipop she had ever been privileged to lick.

When I am satisfied, I tell her she can sit up. She does so gladly, as the movement greatly increases the slack on the rope running down her stomach and under her crotch that tugs insistently on her severely-bound breasts. I had been so pleased to discover she had the kind just heavy enough to allow tying them tightly from behind. Sensing another round of irrelevant objections, I pick up the plug that's dangling on a chain from the shiny rim around her mouth, and push the stiff rubber firmly back into place. What was she going to say? I wish I hadn't shimmied out of my dress quite so quickly? Or maybe I shouldn't have told you to "do whatever you wanted to me" with quite so much conviction?

Surprisingly, she continues to fight her bonds, twisting and turning her body as she kneels on the table like an offering to an angry god. Much as I enjoy the show, I know this cannot continue, lest she fall off and cause unwanted damage to herself and my plans for the remainder of my stay.

While unbuckling the many straps holding the gag against her head, I bribe her with the promise of water if she keeps completely quiet. She complies, so I allow her to swallow the contents of a tumbler. I can't held admiring the perfect features of her face, even when they're contorted in a hateful glare. With more time, perhaps I could train her to maintain permanent silence, but that won't be the case tonight, so the tube in her mouth will have to be replaced with an oversized penis gag that buckles around her head with four straps.

I tell her it's time for a new position, and spin her on the tabletop so she faces away from me. I rebind her arms so her wrists and elbows are pinned together against her back with a half-dozen coils each. Once her legs are freed, I rearrange her limbs so she's lying face down on the table, her compressed breasts squashed even further between the weight of her torso and the hard wood below. I tie together her ankles so they are crossed, then pull them all the way back to her wrists, bending her knees at sharp angles and exposing the delicate regions between her still-stockinged legs. To further accentuate the view, I tie a line around her ankles and attach it to the hasp on the back of the gag. This forces her to stare straight ahead unless she wants to pull her legs up even further, a difficult chore I doubt she will want to attempt.

I pick up the remote control for the large-screen television at the other end of the room and preview the selection of pay-per-view movies, finally settling on one that promises 90 minutes of nonstop fornicating by attractive starlets. Although I doubt any will measure up to the beauty of the pinioned damsel lying in breathless apprehension before me, it could nonetheless prove inspiring.