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The hotel (pt 3)
(Earlier events at the chateau hotel where I was working were related here on 12 September and 27 October, 2008, published under “Boy / Girl” stories, entitled “The hotel” and “The hotel (continued)”. What happened subsequently during my stay there is described below.)
You may recall I was working in a very nice chateau hotel to improve my French and had had a pleasant experience with a visitor, Monsieur Rodriguez, and a frustrating experience the next day when he and his wife were both present, although, at the time, it looked as though it would be very good.
Well, life is full of coincidences and good moments. I was on duty about 2 weeks after the Rodriguez’ last visit and at the reception desk I saw that they had reserved a room again in 2 days time. I made a mental note and wondered if there might be any more “activities”. Having been frustrated the last time I began to consider how I might reverse the tables, if the opportunity presented itself.
From the reception desk I could see the front parking and see the Rodriguez smart Mercedes arrive. I went out to greet them.
“Bonjour Madame, Monsieur. Welcome back to our chateau hotel.”
“Bonjour Tasha, how are you?” said Monsieur Rodriguez. Madame favoured me with a weak smile.
“Can I help you with your baggage?”
“Of course,” said Madame.
As we all walked towards the hotel entrance Madame called out to her husband,
“Can you bring my boots please, darling!”
As M Rodriguez returns to the car Madame whispers to me:
“Don’t get any ideas young lady about messing with my husband again, understand?”
“Of course, Madame,” I intone.
I show them to their suite and they spend a quiet time enjoying the hotel for their one night stay. I am still at the reception desk when they return to their room after dinner later that night. M Rodriguez lingers for a few moments to look at some leaflets while his wife walks upstairs.
“I shall be back here in 10 days on the 23rd,” he says. “Please reserve me a room for 2 nights. I shall be alone and arriving sometime after 6 in the evening.” He smiles winningly at me.
Over the next days I concoct a small plan for his return. Three days before his arrival I send through the post a short note addressed to him at the hotel, to await his arrival. I don’t want others to see a plain envelope in his box. The note is simple: Be ready for me to see you at 6pm on the 24th in your room. Tasha. I arrange to be off duty on that evening.
Pedro Rodriguez duly arrives, books in and I see he is there when I am at reception on the day of his arrival, a Tuesday.
Wednesday late afternoon I shower and change for my rendezvous with M Rodriguez. I have decided that, to an extent, I will look as though I am on duty. One must wear a black skirt or trousers and white blouse. Normally my skirt is quite long but for this occasion I have bought a very short one – black – and a loose fitting white blouse; make up takes some time. This is for external appearance. Underneath, no bra (a pashmina to cover myself when I go into the hotel) and a miniscule thong, also black.
At a few minutes after 6 I slip into the hotel bar, tell Antoine behind the bar that I need a bottle of Moet et Chandon champagne and two glasses for me to take to M Rodriguez. Even though Antoine does not question my order he does remark that I look very nice; could we perhaps have dinner together one night?
I slip away from the bar, pass outside so that I can go up to M Rodriguez’ room by a staircase less used by guests. I set my phone alarm; 30 minutes should be long enough. I knock on his door, he opens it:
“Ah, what a pleasant surprise - and the champagne’s a good idea.” I walk in. “You look stunning,” he says as he looks me up and down, smiling broadly.
“Thank you, Monsieur, you are very complimentary.”
“Let me open the champagne, and......... and we can drink to your beauty.” He stutters slightly.
“I would like that, Monsieur. However, there is a small thing I have to tell you, that unfortunately I cannot stay too long as I might be missed.”
“Oh, that’s all right.......Chin, chin!”
We sip our champagne.
“Monsieur will remember our last meeting in your room?”
“Oh yes, I often think about it! It makes me quite excited to think what you did!”
“Well, you remember you tied me up, or rather your wife tied me up? This time I am going to do the same to you and give you pleasure, so, if you would, take off your clothes and lie on your bed. I am sure you would like me to do things to you, n’est ce pas?”
“This will excite me a lot and I’m sure you will be good to me, no?”
He takes off all his clothes and already I see he is taking an interest in me, in anticipation - of he knows not what!
“Lie, face up, put your arms up, hands by the top of the bed!”
I take the curtain ties and tie his wrists to the headboard.
“Turn over!”
He twists over, not too comfortably as his wrists are tied but there is enough slack. The curtains have metal or plastic pulls in every room so I unscrew one of these, lay it on the bed beside him. I lean in over his naked back, run my fingers down his spine, massage his back a little, repeat the exercise, run a nail down the crack of his backside, push aside his legs, look between them where I can see the dark thatch of hair, his balls, run my fingers gently against the globes. He breathes heavily, even moans:
“That’s lovely! Do it some more.”
Suddenly, I dig my nails sharply into his buttocks!
“Hey!” he shouts, but I ignore his protest, take the curtain pull and whack him across the buttocks. His arse clenches; I wait; it relaxes; I hit him again; he protests but does not turn over. He likes it! A few more blows follow, then I blow softly on the weals now showing, rub in a bit of cream I see on his nightstand to soothe the angry skin.
“Turn over and look at me!”
He does so. I reward him by partly unbuttoning my blouse so he can see my cleavage and I lean forward to afford him a better view, kiss his own nipples, pull them with my lips.
“Right M Rodriguez, next I am just going to tie your feet to the corners of the bed so that I am your master – or mistress – and play with you. OK?”
“Yes, yes I would like that, play with me, pleasure me.”
I now have my man tied up in four places, at my mercy! His cock is at full erection, not even touching his stomach. It is even pulsing slightly.
“Can I touch your cock? Would you like me to handle it, M Rodriguez?”
“Yes, go on, touch it, lick it for me....please. I need you to.”
I pause to taste my champagne, then my fingers encircle his cock about half way up; I make a downward move, then up, stop. I see a clear emission from his eye; with my finger I spread the liquid around the top of his cock, all around the head and slide my fingers down again, repeating the motion a few times.
“How does that feel Monsieur? Do you like this? The last time I did it you liked it a lot!”
“Please, it is good – but I want to see you, to see your breasts, your cunt!”
“Ah, yes, of course you do. But this is for your pleasure, not too quickly!”
My hand makes quite a few more oscillations along the length of his shaft. I remember from the last time I wanked M Rodriguez’ cock he came quite quickly so I must be careful: I do not want him cumming – at least not yet! I hold him at the base where his hair sprouts out and massage from there – not very good – then right up at the top where I benefit from the precum I spread around and which is still oozing from his tool.
“Enough of that for the moment!” I say. I try more champagne, spill some on his cock, and I turn around and place my legs on each side of his head. He looks up my skirt; he can see the tiny panties I have on yet he cannot see my cunt. I have shaved well so there is no hair to see. My haven of lust for him is concealed but inches from his face and he cannot reach it because he is held by his hands being tied. Exactly what I want! I feel my cunt is wet with my own juices so my thong will be damp and he will see this, knowing my own lust is up. He tries to reach up with his head and lick me but the wrist restraints are too tight and he cannot quite reach me.
Keeping my crotch well above him I lean down towards his cock, glistening a deep red almost purple. I reach to finger his balls, play with them a little – he is breathing heavily, even panting – and I hold his cock, then lick the end, taste the precum and champagne, envelop the end, suck, absorb as much of it into my mouth as I can, withdraw sucking all the while.
Monsieur’s breath is rasping. He is very excited; his cock thrusts upwards but I back off, ever the tease.
I dip my hips, my thong sweeps down, touches his nose and I raise my hips. I must not give too much! I move away from his face and move to sit astride him, facing his member, where I wank him very slowly and gently. But this is no good! I cannot see his face, his expression. I turn, reposition myself between his legs, my own legs splayed so he can see up my skirt, feast his eyes again on my panties and on that area which has remained hidden to him, and my cleavage which is the most of my breasts he has seen this evening – except what he may have noticed through my sheer blouse.
“Monsieur would like to see under my skirt? Would you like me to take it off?”
“Oh yes, Tasha! Yes, take it off, let me see you, your lovely cunt!”
“OK, OK, then soon!”
I hold his cock in my two hands, move them up and down, oh so slowly!
“Monsieur, are you going to cum, are you nearly there? Are you ready?”
“Yeah, I am nearly cummimg, it just needs a bit more. Please don’t stop, you’re so good. Faster, wank me faster, please!”
I am waiting, not to bring him off but for my alarm to go! Another sip of champagne for me and more spilt on his cock.
“Ah yes Monsieur. You remember when I was here with your wife? You had me so sexed up that all I wanted was to cum, I was nearly there – like you now. Then you just threw me out. You just want me to make you cum don’t you?”
My hands are still moving gently, tantalisingly slowly, along his length. I have to pause, feel his balls: tight they are now. I’ve learned that it’s a sign that he’s ready to explode. I must stop! I let him go. His cock moves, vibrates with a life of its own.
“Yeah, you’re right, but it was my wife who wanted you thrown out! It wasn’t me. Please don’t stop now. My cock is on fire, I must cum, keep on with your hands, your mouth, anything! Please!”
“OK, Monsieur, I’ll keep on! But I must go soon. I’m required on duty,” I lied.
Yet again my finger and thumb encircle his staff; two or three very quick movements – and my alarm goes off! I leap from the bed to switch it off.
“Ah, Monsieur, we have unfortunately run out of time and I must go. This is sad as my next plan, before making you cum, was to take off my panties and show myself to you, even let you lick me – but time has prevented this!”
As I say this I move towards the bed, stoop and envelop the end of his cock for a fleeting moment in my mouth.
“When you next come here you must satisfy me!”
I move to the bedhead, swiftly untie one wrist, spring back and move to the door.
“You wretched woman, you tease, you cocksucker, you.....”
But I am gone! A remarkable command of English he has for a Portuguese, I think!
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She makes hungry where most she satisfies
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