Chapter 4

For the next hour and a half, I work in a bit of a daze. Fortunately, I have no real problems with any of the work, because were I to have to bend over, for example, the whole world would see that I’m not wearing any panties. He has those, discarded on his bathroom floor. The egg works sporadically, sometimes resting quiescent inside me, but then bringing me upright with a gasp as it suddenly vibrates to life. My pussy juices are running, working their way down my thighs.

Seven o’clock comes and I put my trolley back in the utility closet. I am wondering what excuse I can use for going back up to the penthouse, but as I pass reception, Ricardo calls me from the desk. “Hey, Beth. Penthouse wants a bottle of champagne. Can you take it up to him, please?”

Ricardo shouldn’t have asked me to do it. There are other staff for room service, but I am not about to complain. The timing is perfect. I collect the champagne on ice, trying not to bend over as I push the bar cart along, and take the lift back to the top floor.

Suddenly nervous, I hesitate before tapping on the door, but almost before my knuckles touch the wood, the door opens, and he is there again. I glance up. Of course, there is a camera by the lift, he knows exactly who is outside his door.

He smiles a welcome. “Ah, Elizabeth, lovely to see you again. Do come in.” He takes the champagne cart from me and I follow him inside. “I hope you don’t mind or think me forward,” he says, “But I’ve made a few preparations for you.”

Preparations? I halt and then jerk as the egg buzzes inside me again. An hour and a half of it working inside me has left me almost limp with desire, and desperate for a real fuck.

He looks pleased with my reaction. “Ah, you do still have it inside you. Nice to know that you can follow instructions.” He holds up a small box and jabs a button on it as I watch. The egg inside me jolts to life again, sending electric arousal up my spine. I yelp. “Good girl,” he says. “That’s what I like to see. Obedience.”

Suddenly, he steps up close, circles an arm around my waist and brings his mouth to my ear. “Don’t need the help now, though, do we? I just wanted to keep you on the simmer until you came back.”

His free hand strokes my cheek, slides down over a breast, cupping and squeezing briefly, and then continues its way down to the hem of my too-short skirt and under. I am unbelievably aroused. Beginning to pant again, I can only ask myself how a stranger can be doing this to me, as his fingers journey up and in, stroke past my clit and up into my swollen pussy. He flicks out the egg and tosses it onto a side table.

“Go have a shower again, Elizabeth,” he says. “You’re hot and uncomfortable from working. I want you relaxed.”

Even in my inflamed condition, I must admit that this is a good idea. I nod and walk to the bathroom.

Stepping into the room, which is still steamy from my earlier visit, I start to unbutton my blouse, but I can’t be bothered and simply lift it up over my head. For a moment, my vision is blocked as the blouse goes over my face, then, as I can see again, I realise that he is in the room with me. I startle, and he grins. “Don’t mind if I watch, do you?”

I shake my head dumbly.

He nods in satisfaction. “I might decide to help, but let’s see how it goes.” His grin drops to a half-smile and he tilts his head in that expression of his that I am coming to recognise. “Take your bra off, Elizabeth. Slowly. And turn to face me. I want to see you properly.”

Turning to face him fully, I unclip my black and lacy bra, then slide it slowly down my stomach, before letting it drop to the floor. Then I start to unzip my skirt.

“No,” he says. “Not yet. Fondle your breasts, Elizabeth. Caress them. Play with your nipples.”

He wants me to perform for him? I hesitate.

“I’m waiting.”

I cup my own breasts, then, stroking and squeezing them, I watch his gaze drop to watch. Suddenly, I realise that I very much want to give him a show. I start tweaking and pinching at my nipples, making them crinkle and harden. I feel myself warming from within and flushing. He smiles again, knowing exactly what is happening. He really does have the most beautiful smile, starting at his lips and curving up to his deep blue eyes.

“Don’t move. Stay right there,” he demands as he walks out, returning only a moment later with the champagne bottle. “We’ll drink this in a while, but I have better uses for it right now.”

The bottle is chilled from the ice, running with condensation. He holds the cold glass up to my nipples, flicking over their already crinkled skin with the icy surface. I gasp at the sheer combination of pleasure and pain of the sensation, not cold, just stimulating. “I’m going to enjoy training you, Elizabeth,” he says.

“Sorry? Training me?”

“You’ll see,” he says. “I’m going to fuck you raw in a while, but first you have to please me. You have to be a good girl.”

I groan. Desperate to fuck, I want nothing more than to feel him inside me. “Oh, God …”

“Yes, Elizabeth? What is it?”

“Please …”

“Please, what?”

“Please. I … I need to cum.”

“So, what would you like me to do?”

“Please …”

“I told you before, you have to ask. You won’t get it without asking.”

I am almost incoherent with lust. “Oh, God. Fuck me. Please, fuck me.”

“Good girl. That’s better.”

Abruptly, he pulls me close, kissing me hard on the mouth, lingering as he runs his fingers through my hair. He then twists me around, bending me face down over the hand basin. From somewhere, he produces a silk cord, obviously having it already prepared. He loops it over my left wrist, around a tap, then around my right wrist and the other tap. I am tied down, with my back arched, and my butt presented to him.

With my face down, I feel him come close behind me and pull me by my waist backwards, until my arms are outstretched and my hips pulled upright. His pelvis is pressed against me and I can feel his erection. Pushing my skirt up around my waist so that my naked derriere is exposed, with one foot, he spreads my legs, stretching my aching pussy open.

He splays himself over me. I had realised he’s tall. I am not short, about five feet nine, but to bend over me like that, he must be well over six feet. His voice murmurs close to my ear. “Now then, Elizabeth. You’ve been good and asked nicely, so you deserve something. Which do you want? My cock inside you? Or do I tongue fuck you?”

Shaking and trembling, I can barely speak, and gasp out, “Don’t care. Just let me cum.”

“As my lady wishes.” He backs away from me, and the next thing I feel is his tongue, not gentle this time, but licking hard and slow from the front, over my clit, and beyond, before making circles inside and around my pussy. I cannot help myself, and I come within seconds, breaking into helpless screams as pulses of pleasure pump through me. I try to buck, but he grips me firmly around the pelvis and continues his merciless probing.

When I can bear no more, when I think I am going to explode, I shriek, “Enough. Enough!”

He stops instantly and as I hang slack and limp over the basin, panting, he strokes one hip, and I feel him kiss my bud.

He stands up, untying me. For a moment, I don’t move; I don’t feel capable of moving, thinking my knees will buckle if I try. As my breathing subsides, he lifts me upright, taking my weight for a moment, holding me to his chest. “Are you all right, Elizabeth?”

Speechlessly, I nod, then, as I become able to support myself, he says, “Have your shower. I’ll see you in the lounge. Don’t bother with the skirt.”