We're in the room. Standard. He didn't seem impressed by it and I'm a bit embarrassed about my comment that it was a nice room. Of course he's been in better. So, here I am in a hotel with a complete stranger that I met, not from a bar or social event or even on a dating site, but from a site where arrangements, trades, bargains like these are implied between the lines. It’s no mystery that this would happen. I walked in to it knowing that I'll be submitting myself to someone for an exchange of some form of finance. Who am I? Who have I become? I've become the woman I've often fantasized about in my adolescent years.
I look him straight in the eyes as I take off my shoes and tell him I knew he'd want this mid-way through dinner. The dark circles around his eyes, boyish good looks and slim frame hides the dark desires of his soul, but his piercing eyes looking right into mine tells me he's anything but. He asks if I know what he wants with those dark brown eyes, and an instant flash of fear shoots through me at the possibility. He could really hurt me. The scene of Veronica Franco pinned to the bed with the Prince on top of her flashes before me. Who am I? I'm Veronica Franco. The lineage swims in my blood. I have known this before I could remember. The fear quickly vanishes and I remember the card that I hold. My attention connects with him and I feel the darker energy muffled with the soft tiredness. Perhaps it’s all my projection. He is beautiful in that moment. What does he want?
Our conversation swings from his business to me undressing, taking orders from him, to me offering my own knowledge of the psychology of people. It's an interesting scene where we both know a sexual event will occur for the trading of money yet we're talking about business like two casual friends, or perhaps two lovers who enjoy each other in mutual respect.
I kneel before him, thankful that he's considerate of my well being to have me put a pillow beneath my knees. His request was simple enough. His hand spanking my ready ass receives him with warmth.
Each spank sends shivers to my body, my muscles contracting, pleasure runs through my body. I'm thankful that I've been trained well. He turns me over, his cock in my face. I take him in. Turn on, shame, restriction, thoughts, everything, flow over me at once, taking me out of the moment, then bringing me back in. I hope he doesn't push me all the way, and at the same time he tells me to let him know if it hurts. Again, I'm thankful for his consideration.
A lingering thought remains in my mind and I wonder if I should tell him that I can take him in deeper if he'll let me do it my way, but I refrain from making the suggestion. He directs it exactly the way he wants it. His hand covers my ears slightly and can only make out the word 'slut.' Yes, that's what I am. And right now I'm his slut, pleasing him. I wonder if he uses that word with his girlfriend. Does he fuck her face the way he's fucking mine now?
I think of my boyfriend and the way he hesitates sometimes to do what he really wants, and at times he pushes my head down hard. I gag, saliva dropping down my hand, this taste, his smell consumes my senses. He comes in my mouth, and I hold it in stopping myself from spitting it back out. I push it deep back and in my throat and swallow when he tells me it's ok. As soon as the act is finished he gets up to grab me a bottle of water and towel. I've decided he's nice.
He walks into the bathroom to rinse off and I take this time to collect myself and check in with my body. I'm slightly detached, yet I feel oddly powerful. He comes out and puts his pants on. We continue the business conversation as though none of this has happened. I wonder how he feels about himself? He thanks me, pulls out a bonus, and I wave for him to put it on the table. I wonder how often he's done this. I wonder if we'll see each other again. I wonder if his girlfriend knows him the way I know him now. I wonder if we had met under different circumstances would he let me know him as intimately as he did tonight?
