In over her head

The receptionist checks Ellie in with the discrete aplomb English people manage so well. Dressed in a thrilling but unfamiliar fashion she feels like an actress about to appear on stage. Minutes later Carlo closes the hotel room door and hands her a glass of red wine, pleased by her evident excitement.

“I knew there was a mutual attraction from the first time we met.”

“Then why didn’t you say so?” Ellie asks crossly.

“What, and miss out on all the fun?”

“Bastard.”

“Such language from a business woman, although I must say you’ve certainly forsworn the look today.”

“I thought I’d dress to impress instead.” Long sick of dressing like ‘Ms Corporate’ Ellie has spent an afternoon in an edgy area of town acquiring — she hoped – appropriate attire.

Not so much the vintage French couture blouse and skirt, rather what’s underneath – an uplifting bustier to make the most of her modest but pert décolletage accessorised with matching knickers, suspenders and sheer stockings. High heels have always been a secret indulgence and Ellie wears a pair of classic ankle strap sandals. Aside from the ivory-hued top all her apparel is black.

While languorously preparing Ellie realised that she’d been too quick to negatively judge women who choose clothes to enhance their feminine form. Rolling each stocking over her ankles, tugging them straight and taut up her thighs and painstakingly fastening suspender clips made her feel simultaneously powerful and submissive The effort was clearly worthwhile; Carlo eyes her with undisguised hunger.

“This is truly your first time?” he asks, admiring Ellie’s accomplished transformation.

“Absolutely.”

“I can’t promise to be gentle.”

“Then don’t.”

“I didn’t think you accept my invitation,” he admits honestly.

“Why not?”

“Suggesting such an assignation to someone I’d scarcely met — although admired her beauty – was the longest of shots.”

“You were in the right place at the right time,” Ellie replies honestly. “I need a different direction, my dating life is going no where. All I ever seem to meet is self-obsessed suits.”

“So you picked an IT nerd instead…”

“Hardly, dweebs don’t dress like you, but I admit it was simply a leap of faith,” confesses Ellie.

Jeans, boots and a tight T-shirt flatter his muscular frame, Long hair, tattoos and chunky Goth-style silver jewellery the antithesis of the management types whose software he services.

“Anyone with a copy of ‘L’ Histoire de O’ in their workbag will have an interesting interior life,” suggests Carlo.

“Meaning?”

He shrugs: “An affinity with sexual fantasy, a vivid imagination; I simply offered an opportunity to indulge them”

“Just a few simple instructions,” murmurs Ellie.

“A few essentials: wear this, be here, expect…”

“Don’t tell me yet,” interrupts Ellie, “I want the entire experience.”

Setting down his glass, Carlo takes Ellie by the hand, sits on a luxuriously padded ottoman and carefully turns her slim figure across his knee; the moment has arrived.

Tingling with excitement Ellie makes no sound, accepts her fate. Unhurriedly Carlo spanks her, lightly to begin, over her skirt, then — exposing her enchantingly clad rear – turns his attention to the seat of Ellie’s knickers. Soon these too are taken down to her knees. After a time he pauses the steady rhythm turning these bouncing globes a delicate pink to gently explore the damp valley in between.

Ellie’s silence is broken; the touch of Carlo’s fingers elicits appreciative moans of desire, sends urgent signals to her sorely neglected sex. Still draped over Carlo’s lap she feels his hard bulge against her thigh.

“That must be uncomfortable,” she observes seductively, sliding onto her knees. Eagerly Ellie lowers the zip and frees Carlo’s angry-looking cock from the confines of his leather strides. “Poor boy,” she murmurs, taking the pulsating tip between her lips. A surge of pleasure shoots through him as Ellie swallows his shaft deep into her mouth, cradling his aching balls in cool fingers, expertly running her tongue up and down the entire length.

Gritting his teeth — as hers nibble deliciously at his shaft Carlo somehow resists the mute invitation in Ellie’s wickedly shining eyes to pump her mouth full of creamy sperm and, pulls regretfully away.

“Amazing,” he gasps, “but your induction is incomplete. Kneel on the ottoman, head down, bottom up and knees apart. This is your first time so I’ll be merciful.”

Carlo continues Ellie’s chastisement with a vengeance. A cane strikes her unprotected buttocks. Judging carefully the fine line between punitive and erotic intent, Carlo applies a further five precise strokes.

A natural, he thinks, discarding the rod of correction and circling her craving clitoris with his thumb, sending spasms of electricity deep into her sex. Ellie submissively allows Carlo to guide her onto her back, wincing as her chastened derriere makes uncomfortable contact with the couch. He kisses her long and hard before abruptly pulling away.

“Put your hand behind your head, Ellie,” Carlo commands sternly, “Legs spread, lift your knees, consider this a test of trust,” Carlo continues, calmly in control, his tone of voice alone almost enough to push Ellie over the edge and into an explosive orgasm. Picking up a short-tailed whip Carlo carefully strokes the thin strands over her bare stomach, flicking the tips at her pale inner thighs. Cupping her breasts he sucks each nipple then twists the engorged nubs.

Startled by Carlo’s unpredictable transitions Ellie struggles to keep still. The whip continues to fall, no single stroke unbearable but cumulatively bringing an enduring soreness as the tails strike the soft curves of her breasts.

Anticipating the moment Carlo switches his focus, applying the whip across the front of her thighs, wheals visible through the sheer nylon. Overwhelmed with conflicting sensations Ellie becomes dimly aware of it striking her pubic mound; time stands still.

Carlo lowers his head to her valley of delights, forcing his tongue between stinging labia. “Too much,” she shrieks with animated arousal. Ignoring her cry Carlo lifts Ellie’s legs high, abruptly thrusting his entire length into her craving cunt. She watches dazed as his rampant cock pumps relentlessly; ankles now on his shoulders. Carlo employs her copious juices to lubricate and finger Ellie’s arse; her body arches and she surrenders to an ecstatic climax.

Unannounced the door opens; Ellie looks around in horror, aware of the debauched image they present. Carlo is unconcerned; knows who it is, issued their invitation. Eventually Ellie’s eyes focus on the mysterious stranger.

“Hi, I’m Zoey,” says the woman, brightly.

Ellie glimpses blonde hair, knee-length, boots, leather mini- skirt and matching zip top. Red lipstick matches fingernails of a similar hue, unsubtle yet entrancing.

“Having fun?” Zoey asks. “He’s very good you know.” She exchanges a far from platonic kiss with Carlo. “Has he fucked your arse yet?” Ellie is speechless. “Oh, right,” continues Zoey, wholly unfazed and taking this silence, correctly, as a negative. “Something to look forward to.” She smiles broadly; this is obviously a familiar situation.

“Yes, well, thank you for that personal endorsement,” Ellie gasps, finding her voice at last. “But why are you here?”

“Magician’s assistant, Santa’s little helper, whatever. If it takes two to tango, think what three can do? I’m sure you’ll both enjoy punishing me,” Zoey adds coyly, clearly anticipating the prospect with pleasure, “and I’m going to love thrashing you both,” she sighs.

“But…” protests Ellie.

“Hush,” says Carlo, “you’re outnumbered two to one, there’s really no choice. Besides,” he adds, casually dropping a bombshell, “I always do what my wife says.”

“Relax,” says Zoey, voice redolent with sensual promise. “We’ve all night. The three of us will have so much fun…”