Chapter 1

I heard the knock on my hotel room door and I knew it was her. I didn't answer it right away, I wanted her to wait, not knowing what would happen. When I opened the door I saw her standing in the hallway, wearing the raincoat like I ordered. I knew that she had nothing on underneath. She's tied the scarf around her eyes, blindfolding herself, just as my e-mail had instructed her.

She was nervous, I could see that. She was also excited as I slowly walked all the way around her, not making a sound, except for my socks on the rich carpet; not touching her either. There would be a lot of touching in just a few minutes, no need to rush it now.

I could feel my cock throbbing in my pants and I fought the urge to touch myself, or to have her touch me.

She drew in her breath sharply at my first touch, the dog collar that I pushed over the top of her head so that it hung around her neck. The collar was made of links of chain connected together, designed for a large dog. She expected the click of the leash, and I didn't disappoint her. Later I'd lead her by that leash into the party upstairs, but not yet. This time was for me alone.

I whispered into her ear, softly. "If you're ready to go through with this Christy, you must take off your raincoat. You must show yourself to me. Otherwise, you must leave."

I watched, my heart pounding in my chest, as she undid the buttons one at a time, finally shrugging the raincoat off her bare shoulders. She was standing naked, the scarf around her eyes, black high-heel shoes on her feet, and nothing else.

My hands were on her shoulders pushing her down so that she was kneeling on the hotel carpet, then onto her hands and knees. I could feel her shaking now, both from excitement and from embarrassment and shame. She and I both knew that somebody could come along at any moment. A door could open. She'd be exposed, naked on her hands and knees, her breasts pointing to the carpet, her pussy dripping.

As I tugged on the leash she started to crawl though the open door into my room; I carried her small suitcase. She didn't know all that the evening held in store for her.

I met Christy on-line. She'd responded to one of my stories, telling me that she was excited by the idea of having a Master, of being controlled, humiliated, used sexually. We sent e-mails back and forth for more than two months before I told her that I would be in her town on business and that she was to meet me at the hotel on Friday evening. I told her that she would be mine until Sunday afternoon.

She wrote back, asking about her husband. What should she say to him, what excuse should she use? My return e-mail told her that I didn't really care what she told him, only that I'd allow her 15 minutes on Saturday to make any phone calls that she needed to make. Other than for that 15 minutes, she was mine.

Then I waited; there was nothing else to do. The day before my flight left I received the last e-mail, the one asking for instructions.

My flight had actually arrived late Thursday evening so I had all day Friday to set things up. It almost wasn't enough time. I had picked my hotel carefully, using the Internet so that I was close to a hardware store, and one of the large discount stores. There were many things that I needed, that I knew I would have trouble getting through security. In addition, I had shipped a box overnight to myself at the hotel. The box contained those things I didn't want to go looking for and yet I wanted to have.

Christy was afraid of pain, and I had promised her that she wouldn't be permanently marketed. I had also told her that, if her husband looked closely on Sunday night, she's have temporary marks from the weekend. She'd never tried bondage with another person but had such a fascination that she'd tied herself up several times, and loved it. I had promised her that she'd be treated like the slut she was.

Christy is in her mid-30's with no children. She'd made sure I knew that she was a little overweight, I had assured her that I simply couldn't care less about her weight, it held no importance to me. Her breasts are on the small side, but more than large enough to wrap a rope around. Her hips are somewhat broad, her butt full. Her husband is a pastor at some holy-roller church. Now that I found interesting! I never did find out what story she told him and I didn't listening in on the phone conversation on Saturday.

She'd told me in her e-mails that she masturbated at least once a day, often more than that, sometimes much more. She told me how she'd even awoken in the middle of the night on the edge of orgasm, and had had to sneak out of bed and into the bathroom to finish herself off.

She told me how she'd been hanging some clothing in the basement of their house, a few items that couldn't go in the dryer, and how the sight of the snap-type clothespins had excited her. How she'd taken off her housedress, snapped clothespins on both her nipples, and then masturbated standing up, watching them jump as she'd cum, enjoying the ache in her breasts.

I tugged on Christy's leash, stopping her crawl into the hotel room, actually a suite that I couldn't afford. My hand started touching her at her knee, next to the floor, slowly running the palm of my hand up the inside of her thigh, toward her black, very furry, pussy. I could feel her shaking as my hand moved. A few inches below her pussy I felt the first wetness on her thigh.

"Beg me to touch your slut cunt, Christy," I ordered her as my hand caressed the wetness on her thigh.

Several long seconds passed as Christy panted. Her tongue snaked out of her mouth to lick her lips before she whispered, "please touch my slut cu... cu... cunt, Master."