Alison jumped out of the taxi and looked up at the building towering above her. The message had arrived two days ago and was so Tyson-like: “Meet Thursday, 2 pm, Hotel City, Room 1001. Don’t be late.” She smoothed down the pretty summer dress that she had bought specially. It had been a carefully judged purchase, attractive enough (she hoped) to please Tyson, not too expensive or sexy to incur Timothy’s displeasure. Underneath was a secret purchase she had hidden from Timothy. Underwear which was both sexy and costly! She was grateful that at least this assignation was planned, so she had had time to prepare her outfit and her excuses. Timothy thought she was shopping in town and then taking in a show. Activities he absolutely hated!

She tried to march confidently through the hotel lobby, desperately scanning for where the lifts were and how to get to Room 1001. It felt like everyone was watching her, whispering. She hoped it would be just Tyson. The last time, of course, he had not been alone, and she had fucked Tyson and his friend Jake. It had been amazing, but even so, a little fuck session with Tyson was the afternoon she was hoping for.

Room 1001 was easy enough to find, so she knocked and called out, “Room service!” Thinking Tyson would find it amusing. The man who answered the door most definitely was not Tyson. For a moment, she assumed she had made a mistake, but that notion was dispelled immediately when the man spoke.

“Mrs Townsend, a pleasure to meet you,” he said. “My name is Warwick, David Warwick. Won’t you come in?”

Alison froze. How did this stranger know her name? The way he looked at her made her feel like he knew all about her and why she was here.

"I'm sorry, I think there's been a mistake," she said, taking a half-step backwards. "I was supposed to meet Tyson." David Warwick's mouth curved into a smile.

"No mistake, Mrs Townsend. Tyson thought we should meet. I’m a close friend of his, and he occasionally asks me to help out with a little specialty of mine.”

"I don't understand," she said, her voice smaller than she intended. "Tyson didn't mention anyone else." David smiled.

"That's his way. You must know that? He likes to surprise." David moved to a small bar in the corner, opened a bottle of champagne, and filled two crystal glasses. "Please sit. So how are you? I imagine the past few weeks have been both traumatic and exciting for you?”

Alison felt the champagne glass cold against her palm as she accepted it, searching for something to say that wasn't "Who the hell are you?" or "Where is Tyson?" She perched on the edge of an armchair, back straight, knees pressed together as though she were at a church committee meeting rather than a hotel rendezvous.

"Traumatic?" she repeated, trying to keep her voice steady. "I'm not sure what Tyson has told you about me."

“He has told me everything, Mrs Townsend, and he is worried about you. That’s why he asked me to check in on you. Please feel that you can trust me; he certainly does.”

"Is that what this is?" Alison asked, her voice sharper than she intended. "Has Tyson decided I'm not worth his time anymore?”

David laughed, a short, controlled sound.

"Quite the opposite. I would not be here if he thought that. He calls you the best...” At this, David hesitated, but the words, ‘obedient slut,’ popped into Alison’s head as the words he had left out. “He says you are the best he has ever had. I’m here to take you on the next stage of that journey. If we agree, you are ready.”

Alison's stomach clenched. The phrase "next stage of that journey" hung in the air between them, loaded with implications she wasn't sure she wanted to understand. She took a sip of champagne to steady herself.

"And what exactly does that mean?" she asked, hating the tremor in her voice.

"Tyson wants you to continue to explore new territories while he is away training. To prepare you for his return," he said. His eyes never left hers, watching her reaction with clinical precision. "To be blunt! He wants me to take your anal virginity. It’s a service I have done for him a couple of times now.” David paused. “He is much too big to be the one to do it. The question is, is he correct? Are you ready?”

Her mouth went dry despite the champagne she'd just sipped. The glass trembled in her hand, and she set it down on the side table before she could spill it.

"Anal?" she whispered, the word feeling foreign on her tongue. She'd never even considered that. Her cheeks burned hot with embarrassment and something else, curiosity, perhaps. Or fear.

"Tyson said you were very inexperienced when you met," David said, his clinical tone making this feel like some bizarre medical consultation. "But that you're a quick learner. Eager to please. And together you have already explored some taboos.”

His eyes traced over her body, lingering on places that made her skin prickle. She crossed her legs tighter, suddenly aware of every inch where the expensive lingerie pressed against her skin.

"I don't—" she started, then stopped. What could she say? That she wasn't that kind of woman? But she was, wasn't she? The evidence was overwhelming. She'd sucked Tyson's cock within minutes of being caught spying on him. She'd let him fuck her in every position imaginable. She'd even participated in a threesome with Jake.

David leaned forward, elbows on his knees.

"Good, you're considering it," he said, a statement rather than a question. "That's good. I’ll run us a bath; that’s where we would start. It will relax you, and give you time to think and prepare.” He got up, topped up her champagne and then she heard water flowing.

When he returned, he asked.

“Tell me, how well are you coping with hiding the truth from your husband?”

“What?” she said before she realised what David had said. She hadn't expected such directness, such an immediate probing into the part of her life she worked hard to compartmentalise.

"I'm managing," she said finally, the words feeling inadequate. "Timothy doesn't... he doesn't notice much.”

"That must be convenient," David replied, then came and sat beside her. “You are here because he didn’t give you what you need, I imagine? You enjoy being a submissive. Being taken by men who really want you but don’t ask, they take?”

Alison shivered despite the warmth of the hotel room. Something in the way David spoke, so matter-of-fact, as if discussing the weather rather than the most intimate aspects of her life, made her feel exposed in a way that even being naked with Tyson hadn't. The word “men” rather than “man” hit her like a thunderbolt.

"I have no idea what is happening to me," she admitted, the words slipping out before she could stop them. "Everything with Tyson just... occurred."

David nodded as if her confession confirmed a theory. "That's how it usually begins. But you keep coming back, don't you? Even after the first time, when you could have walked away."

She wanted to deny it, to claim some moral high ground, but the truth hung between them. She had gone back. Again and again.

“Lift your arms for me,” David said gently, and he pulled her sundress over her head.

Alison instinctively raised her arms, her muscles responding before her brain could object. The dress slid upward, fabric brushing against her skin until it cleared her head. The hotel air felt cool against her exposed flesh. She sat there in just her lingerie. The expensive, secret purchase she'd hidden from Timothy. She felt both ridiculous and thrilled.

He disappeared for a moment to turn off the bath, then returned. She had not moved.

"Stand up," David said.

She obeyed, rising on unsteady legs. His gaze travelled over her body with clinical detachment, as though he were appraising a piece of art rather than a woman. There was none of Tyson's raw hunger in his eyes, just cool assessment.

"Turn around."

Alison did as she was told, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She felt his eyes on her back, her ass, the curve of her calves. Her skin prickled with goosebumps.

“Did you buy that lingerie specially for Tyson?"

Alison nodded slightly, and then shivered as David ran his finger down her spine.

“It's gorgeous, wear it again for Tyson; he will love it,” he said. “Now turn around and undress for me.”

Alison hesitated, turned, and her trembling fingers reached behind to find the clasp of her bra. She’d almost got used to being naked in front of Tyson, but this was a stranger. Her fingers unhooked the clasp, and she let the bra fall onto the floor.

"That's it," David encouraged, his voice soft but commanding. "Let me see what Tyson has been enjoying."

She slid the straps down her arms, feeling the expensive lace brush against her skin as she revealed her breasts. The cool air made her nipples harden, and she fought the urge to cover herself. Instead, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her matching panties and slowly pushed them down her thighs until they fell to the floor.

"Perfect," David said, but there was something clinical in his assessment that made her feel like she was being catalogued.

"Our bath is ready. Soak for a bit. I’ll join you in a while."

Alison stood naked in the middle of the hotel room, hesitating and concerned about what would happen if she got into the bath.

"I don't usually..." she began, but trailed off. What was the point in pretending? She'd crossed so many lines already.

"Go on," David said firmly. “Do as I tell you.”

She walked to the bathroom, knowing his eyes were on her. The marble floor felt cold beneath her bare feet. Steam billowed from the large tub, and the scent of lavender oil filled her nostrils. At least he'd made it nice for her. She stepped in, wincing slightly at the heat, then sank until the water lapped at her collarbone.

Her mind was trying to catch up. Tyson had sent her to this man to prepare her for what he wanted to happen next, something she had never considered doing, ever. The thought terrified her and excited her as so often happened now whenever Tyson was involved.

The bathroom door opened, and David entered, now wearing only a bathrobe. He dropped the robe.

"Lean forward," he instructed.

Alison hesitated, then complied, and he slipped into the bath behind her, pulling her back onto his lap, his hands cupping her breasts. He lifted them, and his fingers made a smooth motion back and forth across her nipples.

“Tyson told me you had incredible breasts,” he said.

Her skin tingled under his touch, his clinical exploration so different from Tyson's hungry pawing. David's hands were precise, methodical, as if he were following a procedure rather than acting on desire. He moulded the skin of her large tits between his hands.

"You are perfect," he murmured against her ear. "I can see why Tyson is so taken with you.”

The compliment sent an unexpected rush of pride through her. She leaned back against his chest, the water lapping around them. His erection pressed against her lower back, substantial though not as intimidating as Tyson's. The thought calmed her somewhat.

"I've never..." Alison whispered, unable to finish the sentence.

"I know," David replied, his voice steady. "Tyson knows that, too. That's why I'm here. To make sure it's done properly. Safely." His hand slid down her stomach, between her thighs. "First, we need to get you thoroughly relaxed and aroused. I understand that’s not so difficult.” He paused. “You're quite responsive, I hear.”

He placed one hand around her neck, gently but enough to hold her in place. His fingers found her clit with practised ease, circling and stroking until she gasped. The sensation was different from Tyson's rougher approach, deliberate, calculated, but no less effective. Her head fell back against his shoulder, loving the feeling and the way he held her neck.

"Good," he praised. "The more aroused you are, the easier this will be.”

Alison closed her eyes; the warm water, the champagne, and David's skilled touch combined to overcome her resistance. She wondered briefly what Timothy would think if she could see her. David’s finger slipped inside her mouth.

“Talk to me,” he said gently, “does that feel good?”

"Yes," Alison whispered, “it's so good.” His finger traced her lips, and she felt a strange intimacy in the gesture, different from Tyson's raw possession.

Her lips began to buck against his fingers, and urged on by David, she felt an orgasm building inside her.

“Cum for me,” he whispered, picking up the pace with his fingers and kissing her neck. “No need to hold back.”

Yes," she moaned, pressing harder against his hand. “Don’t stop.”

David's fingers worked with expert precision, making her gasp and arch her body. David’s touch was methodical, where Tyson's was passionate, controlled. The effect was much the same. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts as an orgasm built within her.

When she came, a hot, pulsing wave crashed through her body. She cried out as her body twitched and shuddered. David held her firmly, waiting for the aftershocks to pass.

He slowly got up and slipped out of the bath, leaving himself dripping on the carpet. He brought her a towel and wrapped her in it.

“Dry yourself and then get on the bed on all fours, ass in the air and head on the mattress. Understand?” David said.

Alison's brain struggled to compute all those instructions as her legs turned to jelly. The bathroom door closed behind him as David left.

She dried off and padded back into the bedroom. The AC was set to cool, and the wetness on her skin prickled as she crossed the carpet.

David, naked, had laid out on the mattress some items that startled her: a butt plug, a tube of lubricant and a wand vibrator.

David’s instructions, on all fours, head down, ass up, echoed in her mind. She got herself arranged on the bed as best she could.

Alison felt her insides shrink in fear, then expand with a dangerous, gut-wrenching excitement.

“Spread your knees wider,” David said. “Let your back arch naturally. Relax your neck.”

Alison did as told, feeling the air on her bare skin, the tension in her shoulders, the strange vulnerability of knowing he was looking at her, measuring her.

“You have an incredible ass,” he said. “Do you like being spanked when you get fucked?”

The question made Alison flinch, a dart of heat passing through her. She had never been spanked.

“No,” she said quietly, but then corrected herself. “I don’t really know. I have never...”

The air prickled at her skin. She imagined what she looked like, face pressed to the mattress, hair wild, back arched, thighs parted. She felt obscene, ridiculous, but also, God help her, eager for whatever was going to happen.

“I’ve never… not really,” she stammered, repeating herself and showing her nerves. Her voice caught, so she coughed. “If you want to, you can try?”

There was a pause. She heard movement behind her, then the mattress dipped as David positioned himself behind her. She waited for the first strike, but instead, his hand traced the curve of her ass, calm and gentle, as if memorising the shape. When the smack came, it was so light it was almost a caress. Then another, sharper, just enough to sting and send her hips jerking forward.

“Very nice,” David murmured. “An ass built for smacking. I’ll tell Tyson you like it.”

Then he put his head down, gripping her thighs, and he licked at her pussy in a long, slow up and down motion. Occasionally pausing to kiss her ass cheeks or to move his head from side to side.

“Feel good?” he asked.

Alison couldn't answer, not with words. She was too busy breathing, trying to keep her body from collapsing onto the bed. David’s touch was nothing like Tyson’s, gentler, almost reverent, between the little shocks of pain his palm delivered to her ass. She lost track of how many times he spanked her, or how many times his tongue slid between her legs, lapping at her until her hips twitched with each taste. She pressed her face to the mattress and tried to stifle the sounds that leaked out of her anyway. At times, his hands reached forward to play with her breasts, and then they would return to her ass.

Then he used the wand vibrator on her. On slow speed at first, building up to maximum. Again, she was reduced to moaning, bucking and writhing as the vibrator made her come hard once more.

"You are very responsive," David said as Alison tried to get her breathing under control. He put the wand down and began to run his thumb over the burning skin of her ass. He sounded faintly amused, almost like a teacher grading an up-and-coming student. She knew he had reached for the lube, and she flinched as the cold liquid dripped onto her skin.

“Tell me if it is too uncomfortable," David said.

"Okay," she said quietly.

His finger began to stroke her clit, gently, then more firmly. David’s free hand stroked her lower back to calm her, and eventually, she relaxed just enough for his finger to slip inside.

It felt odd, an intrusion, but not bad. His finger moved slowly, in and out. When he thought she was used to the sensation, he used two fingers to stretch her further. The discomfort faded quickly, replaced by a growing pleasure. She felt herself clench, then relax, as his fingers moved with slow, patient persistence. The lube made everything slippery. She heard herself gasp. Her body trembled, caught between the dull ache of being stretched and the bizarre, curling pleasure that came behind it.

“It’s okay,” he said, “nice and slow, we have all the time in the world.”

He kept at it until the discomfort faded, coaxing her to loosen her grip on the sheets, to let her hips rock back for more. With the next movement, his fingers curled inside her, and that sensation sent a shock up her spine. She bit the mattress to keep from crying out.

He pulled his fingers out, and she knew he had picked up the butt plug, followed by the slick, wet sound of more lube being squeezed out. He picked up the butt plug and let her see it. It looked frighteningly big, glossy and black, thick through the middle but with a pointy tip.

“You’re doing so well,” David said, and there was no sarcasm in it. “If you can take this, you’ll be ready for us to have some real fun.”

"Relax,” David said. “Good girl. You’re doing perfectly.”

She did. The butt plug stretched her for a moment, then slipped inside with a pop that made her gasp. The sensation was overwhelming, a hot, tight fullness, burning at the edge of pain, then settling into something deeper, a sense she was being claimed, marked. David stroked her ass, soothing her, then gave the plug a little twist that sent a shock through her. He stayed there, hand on the small of her back, steady. Waiting.

She couldn’t decide whether to run or beg for more.

“Get on your back,” he said, and he helped her with a pillow before reaching down; he devoured her breasts. The first fast, hungry movement he had made, but despite the urgency from his mouth, his hand still lightly wiggled the butt plug inside her.

“Are you okay?“ he asked, sitting up. “Trust me?”

Alison licked her lips, mouth suddenly dry. The room was cool, but her skin burned where the pillow pressed her lower back, and the butt plug throbbed, filling her in a way she had never imagined possible. Trust him? The clinical confidence in David’s tone made it sound like the only option.

“I trust you,” she whispered, surprised that it was true. At least as much as she trusted anyone, these days.

David smiled, and the approval in his eyes gave her a rush of heat.

“Good. Now suck me.” And he fed her his cock.“Good girl,” he said, slightly breathlessly, and his hand resumed working on gently moving the butt plug. Then he put her hand on the plug, and he used his own to hold and guide her head as it rocked back and forth, blowing him.

“I want your pussy,” he said.

David positioned himself over her, his body lean and precise, the head of his cock brushing her entrance. Alison felt her legs shake with anticipation and the raw, exposed sensation of the plug in her ass. Every nerve ending was alive, and she stared up at him, his face unreadable, eyes fixed on her. She tried to steady her breathing, tried to tell herself she was now used to being fucked regularly. However, nothing about this was familiar. The buttplug made her feel fuller and tighter.

He pushed in, slow at first, letting her stretch around him. The fullness she felt was overwhelming, a sensation that bordered on painful before melting into a heavy, molten pleasure. She whimpered, and he paused, stroking her thigh with a reassuring hand.

"You're so tight," he said.

The words made her shudder. He started to move, each thrust deliberate, as if testing what she could take. The plug moved too, creating a further sensation. Alison grabbed David's arms; her nails dug into his skin.

He fucked her with slow, deliberate strokes, each one pressing the plug deeper, stretching her further. The fullness was overwhelming, a molten ache that radiated through her body, making her clench around him. His hands gripped her hips, thumbs digging into the soft flesh, guiding her movements as he rocked into her. The bed creaked beneath them. Alison’s breath came in sharp gasps, her fingers clawing at the sheets as she tried to anchor herself to something solid. Every thrust sent a jolt of sensation through her, the plug shifting inside her, amplifying the pressure. David’s pace was relentless, his cock filling her completely, each withdrawal leaving her empty for only a heartbeat before he drove back in, deeper, harder. The room blurred around her, the edges of her vision darkening as the pleasure coiled tighter, a spring wound to its breaking point.

“I think it’s time,” he said.

He withdrew, and she whimpered at the sudden emptiness. She felt his fingers at her ass, removing the plug with a slow, deliberate pull that nearly made her squirm off the bed. Then more cold lube dripped onto her skin, and David’s fingers worked it in.

Alison’s brain churned. She drew her knees-up, spreading herself wider as he guided her hips into place. She tried to distract herself. The room was bright, afternoon sunlight streaming through the gap in the blackout curtains, and for a moment she wondered if anyone in the hotel could hear them.

He smothered his cock in more lube, then she felt the sharp, hot pressure of David’s cock pressing against her ass. He paused, his hand on her lower back, and waited for her to loosen. She remembered the advice he’d given her: breathe, relax, trust. She inhaled slowly, then exhaled long and steady, trying to unclench every muscle.

He entered her in very slow increments, each new phase bringing a gentle whimper from her as she felt a delicious mix of pleasure and pain. Slowly, her ass stretched to accept his cock.

His words had a quiet, steady rhythm in her ear:

“Good, that’s perfect, you’re doing so well. Let me know if you need me to stop.”

Soon, he was moving in long, slow strokes. She lay still watching him, one leg in the air and one out to the right.

“That’s it, Alison,” he whispered, “you're having anal sex. Feel good?”

She nodded, jaw clenched, sweat prickling down her back. His cock eased in, impossibly slow, the pressure dizzying. She forced herself to breathe, let go of the pillow, and bear down as the brutal heat of him conquered the tight resistance. It felt like being split open, like a pain that was so close to pleasure it was impossible to tell them apart. Her muscles burned, then surrendered. The pain dulled, and the fullness became everything.

“There you go,” David coaxed. “Just let it happen.”

The discomfort faded, replaced by a low, coiling heat that made her legs shake. Each time he rocked forward, it was easier. She found herself wanting more.

“Oh god,” Alison moaned, clinging to the mattress and enjoying this new sensation. She began to pant. Sweat stung her eyes. Her face pressed into the cool cotton, grounding her, reminding her this was real and happening and she was choosing it.

When David picked up the pace, she braced herself, expecting a punishing rhythm like Tyson’s. But he kept it controlled. He held her hips steady with both hands, thumbs digging into her flesh, moving her so she took every inch. She lost track of how long it went on—time blurred in the brightness behind her eyelids.

The slap of skin, the wet, obscene noises, the smell of lube and sweat and her own arousal. Then suddenly she was being ordered onto all fours.

She didn’t want to move, but David’s hand was already guiding her up. Fumbling, she propped herself on her elbows, then her arms, head still bowed to the mattress, hair falling into her mouth. The bedspread was soft against her cheek, but nothing could distract her from the white-hot sensations now throbbing through her. Every part of her felt helplessly open, occupied.

“Good girl,” David said, voice low and unhurried, and his hands slid to her waist to steady her. He pulled her up until she was supported only by her palms and knees, her spine bent, and her ass presented to him. The position was humiliating and perfect all at once. She couldn’t see him, but she could hear him shuffle on the mattress, hear the faint squelch of more lube being dispensed. Then a cold, slick finger worked around her entrance, prepping her.

“That’s good, stay nice and relaxed for me.” David’s voice was perfectly calm. “Just remember to breathe,” he added.

She did, but it turned into a gasp as he pressed into her again, slow and insistent, the ache flaring up but already less severe, lost in the clench and release of her body around him. Everything resolved into a single point, each second contracted to the moment his cock slid in, and the moment he held still, letting her adjust. She felt stretched, full to the point of splitting, but the pain fell away, replaced by something warmer.

Once again, he slapped her ass every few thrusts as he fucked her.

She was past the point of embarrassment, past any shame. There was only the flood of sensation, the throb of friction, the strange, shifting pleasure barreling through her as she let herself be taken. Eventually, she lost all sense of time, existing only for the next slow thrust, loving the way her body yielded, each invasion better than the last.

It didn’t hurt, not really. It was just different. A pressure, a fullness, sometimes a sting, but mostly a molten ache that bordered on sublime. She caught her own reflection on the television, a blurred ghost on the black screen: red-faced, hair wild. She looked more alive than she ever had in the vicarage, or at any church bake sale, or even in Timothy’s arms. She was unrecognisable.

Her whole body vibrated with every impact. The mattress creaked, and the headboard rattled as they fucked. Her face pressed into the crook of her arm, and she let out a sharp, startled moan each time David thrust into her.

David went deep inside her, then she felt him shudder, a deep, animal groan coming from his mouth. His hands clamped her waist so hard she knew it would leave finger marks. The sensation of his cock swelling inside her, followed by the burst of his seed.

“Fuck, Alison,” he gasped, rolling onto his back, still panting. “That was so good.” While still getting his breath, he added, “Tyson wants us to do this once or twice a week while he is away for the Breen fight.”

Alison rolled over, processing the strange sensations and sense of pride. She felt good. Her body felt as if all her senses were heightened. She heard the faint elevator music piped in from outside and the air conditioner buzzing. She relaxed and enjoyed the moment, expecting David to get up or roll over and go to sleep. He did neither, just lying there like she was. His hand was making gentle circles on her thigh, which felt nice.

Then a phone rang.

“Talk of the devil,” said David, and he handed Alison the phone. It was Tyson.

“Had fun?” he said.

She almost dropped the phone. The muscles in her hand refused to close around it, and for a second, she just stared at the name on the little glowing screen. She lifted it to her ear, not trusting her voice yet.

"Yes," she said, voice a papery croak.

On the other end, Tyson let out a low laugh. The familiar roll of it made the flesh on her neck prickle.

"How's my favourite parish slut?" he said.

She tried to find words, but they all bunched up in her throat.

"Mr Warwick took very good care of me," she said, hating how it sounded, like a review of a service, a customer survey.

"Good. I knew you could handle it. Keep up the lessons, and I’ll have that ass of yours when I am back."

She handed the phone back to David, who accepted it without comment, then rolled from the bed and padded to the bathroom. The shower came on, and he began to sing.

Alison thought of Timothy. How could she go back to being satisfied with him? But then she never had been, not really.

David appeared briefly in the doorway.

“So, same time next week?” he said.

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said. Her voice came out smaller than she liked, and she hated that she sounded meek, but her mind was already skipping ahead. How would she get out of the house again? What would she tell Timothy? Did she even care? The lies, it seemed, got easier every week.