Hotel California

“I’m sorry sir. She will be disciplined, if you will it.”
 
I smirked at him, sitting up and stretching.
 
“Not really. D’you mind?”I gestured at my lower half, and the bed. He nodded, unsmiling, and nodded at me.
 
“If you have a need, the bathrooms are in the neighbouring room.”
 
He left the room, and I listened as his heels clicked against the floorboards. I got up, and walked over to the bathroom.
 
The room was as ornate as the bedroom before it; shimmering tiles, a copper bath, and brass shower over a marble floor. I had never seen anything like this before in my life. I smiled; it was good to be me.
 
I got in the shower, and ran the water over my face, washing her juices off. While I enjoyed her smell, smelling like sex isn’t a great method to get more.
 
I have a little ritual, whenever I get in the shower- not, all of you sick minded people, not one of those. I wait a bit, then I make a slow process of turning the water temperature upwards, adjusting over and over until I get to the maximum temperature. I can't tell you how high I get, but I feel kinda cleansed after.

Anyway, I washed up, and put my clothes back on; had to get out, before one of these rich people expected me to pay for anything.

I was just about to leave, when a voice floated down the staircase, caressing my retreating head.

"Leaving so soon?"

I turned slowly. Her voice was so familiar, I felt it run up my spine, my hair standing on end.

Last night's dim light made the images of her to today incomparable; her hair was long, and clean, and unbelievably shiny. Her eyes were the exact same color, a deep, glossy black that shone from within.

Not a narrow face, by any means, but classic, high cheekbones, beautiful skin, and angelic lips, lips that were at this point quirked into a dismayed look.

Her dress was high fashion; sleek, and black, but not showy. Part of the reason she looked like Audrey Hepburn was because she wore the long gloves that were high fashion at that time. It- the dress- accentuated her body without clinging, and finished just above her knees.

Damn, even her calves were out of my league!

I'm not one for awkwardness, but I couldn't help but feel huge and heavy around this broad. Heck, I even felt guilty thinking of her as a broad; had to think of her as a lady.

Speaking of which, I'm not sure at what point you noticed, but I tend to go from using proper english to slang quite a bit. I might be a thug, but I'm not stupid.

I looked up at her. "Got to move along, miss."

She laughed, a deep throaty sound. I was instantly hard.

"But we haven't had the opportunity to get to know you at all." Her smile widened, and she slowly descended down the stairs, her eyes flashing at me.

I was drawn to her, to her youth, to her beauty. But it was the secrets, swirling around in those huge dark eyes that really intrigued me. This lady knew things; I wanted to know them too.

"Fine then; I suppose I could stay. Probably can't afford it, though." I shrugged.

She wrinkled up her nose. "You can pay by sharing you company with us. It has been so long since we have played with anyone new."

She continued down the stairs, smiling for all the world like I had given her the best present she had ever had. She laid her hand softly on my forearm.

"Come; breakfast is waiting."

I did. I often wonder what might have happened if I had refused to stay; probably the same thing.

Just the ending, ahead of time.

*****

The buffet room was, like the rest of the place, a masterpiece; ballroom fixtures, mirrored walls and ceilings in patches, as well as waiter service to each table.

The room was full of beautiful people, mostly all of european descent; what you'd imagine if someone wanted to preserve a picture of the south of America, before Lincoln.

But the people; my god, the people. They shone as the sunlight struck them, their hair and their clothes glittering and catching the light as they danced to the music of a swing band in one corner, all smiles and laughter. They never stopped, and the dancers never seemed to step a foot out of line, nor did they seem to tire.
But the thing that most struck me was the smell that permeated the room; lust crept everywhere, over each surface, around the dancers and through the doors and windows open for the fresh air. I was stunned I hadn't noticed it, as I waited in the hallway, the lady still on my arm (my god, she was small in comparison to me!).

It was sweat, but there was something more dishonest within it; it was not a healthy smell. It was like honey, or opium, or marijuana; sickly, seductive, but ultimately wrong, just off.

She seemed unaffected by it, as did all of the people in the room; I was as hard as a bar, and straining against my jeans, as I struggled to breathe in and maintain control of myself.

I stood out like a sore thumb, beside the obvious wealth of those present, but they affected no notice, and so I didn't press the matter. The man from my room rose stiffly from his table, as we approached, and held a seat out to the lady on my arm as a waiter did the same for me.

I was not going to look a gift horse in the mouth, so I asked the waiter for some bourbon. He looked at me as though I was foolish, and instead brought me a glass of port.

I drank deeply, as the lady introduced me to the man; he was the Captain, the master of this house. He looked at me impassively with those pale blue eyes, as empty as the lady's were full.

The lady was introduced as his wife, and the rest of the table were guests at his estate. I was seated next to the Captain's wife, and a lady who, I was told in a hurried whisper, was a bit of a scandal.

"Such pride, I know, to call what is a mere hotel an estate, but forgive my husband his illusions."

I merely smiled tightly, and tried to move as little as I could to keep myself from revealing the hard on I had been trying to suppress.

It did not help that the Captain's wife was continually touching me, to get my attention, or was smiling at me to ask my opinion on something. Her hands were still clothed in those gloves, but that just made things worse; unbidden, images of one of those gloves wrapped around my cock floated into my head, and it became all I could do to not grab her hand, and make said images reality.

Suddenly, I felt a hand on my leg, to the opposite side of the Captain's wife. I swung around, and looked fully into the face of a blonde. Her clothing was every bit as aristocratic as the rest, but her bearing was predatory. She looked at me intensely, her gloved fingers on my zipper. As she pulled it down, she leaned over, and whispered into my ear.

"Turn around, and look at her. I want her to know; to watch."

I stared at her, as she took me out. She seemed, to everyone else at the table, to have ignored me after having whispered into my ear, but beneath the table, I was struggling.

She started by running the pad of her thumb along the underside of my cock, drawing back the foreskin by sheer force of will. Then her fingers surrounded my head, swirling around it.

I kept up my charade, watching as the Captain's wife dominated the conversation, her hand constantly on my arm.

Her fingers fluttered along my length, and I drew back from the table, to give her more room. I was growing desperate; they tell how a vagina feels like velvet, but I tell you right here and now, a velvet handjob is heaven.

The Captain's wife had to be able to see, but she kept going as though there was nothing untoward happening beside her.

I was almost done, when she accidently knocked her napkin onto the floor between us. Shooing off the the waiting staff, she leant down, closing the gap between us.

The woman's hands closed on the base of me, and began to jack me just as the Captain's wife caught my eye, as she moved down, ever lower, her lovely crimson lips closing over the head of my cock, taking me all the way in, to the other woman's fingers.

I burst down her throat, my head arching back. I remember staring straight at the Captain, trying for all the world to look natural- not as though I had just committed adultery in front of him, much less cum inside her- and just barely succeeding.

She must've taken it all, because when she came back up there was no sign around her lips, nor on the other woman's gloves. And they both returned to their meals and the conversation, immediately, as though nothing had changed.

I excused myself, and fled off to the nearest bathroom. I ran some water into a basin, rubbing it into my face, before looking into the mirror, straight into my own eyes.

What the fuck had just happened?

I am not considered particularly attractive- scary, arresting, maybe- so this sort of treatment was unknown to me. I had always been a go get'em sort of a man, and it took that sort of thing to get me laid.

I couldn't forget the feeling of her mouth, on me, around me. Of her eyes, stroking me with their secrets, of her amazing body that I couldn't really see.

I was already hard, and so deep in thought that I didn't hear her come in, behind me.

It was the woman, the one next to me at the table; the blonde.

I hadn't really had a good look at her- truly, for me, the look in her eyes was enough- but where the Captain's wife hid, flirted, this woman flashed, revealed.

Her bodice was part corset, part frilly decolatage, and while her dress flowed down past her ankles her breasts damn near spilled out over the top of her corset, and her waist was unbelievably small.

"I didn't get the chance to introduce myself; I'm Margaret." She said, her voice deep and husky. Her pupils were wide, and as she closed the door behind her I caught the whiff of lust again.

I couldn't help retreating before her; something was up here, and I wasn't sure if I wanted to get any deeper into the shit. She continued forwards, her eyes devouring me, making my cock strain at my pants painfully, pulsing.

Damn it, I'm only human.

She kept coming until my head hit a cubicle door, opening it. I crashed down onto the toilet, my eyes on her.

She turned, closing the door of the cubicle, one hand in front of her, the other on my thigh. As she turned back around, her fingertips pressed softly into my leg, raising the skin. Her fingers reached my zipper for the second time, and if anything drew me out easier than the first time. Her nails clawed at me, even as her other hand lifted her skirts.

Her thighs were wonderful- and let's get one thing straight. Women feel that their thighs are unattractive; I'm telling you, right here, and right now, that thighs are wonderful. On a woman, they show her maturity, her blatant sensuality, and the way she moves them can blow your mind wide open.

There is a reason fat bottom girls make the world go round.

I had enough. I grabbed her, by the hips, and stood, lifting her off her feet. Her corset tightened around her chest, making her cleavage curve, but I had only mind for her cunt.

I held her up, against the wall, as I ran myself against her naked sex, delighting in the wetness, in her openness. She was so ready, I could have taken her all in one stroke, but I kept most of myself out, using only the head.

Her arms wrapped around my neck, her mass of blonde curls hanging all around the two of us, as she savaged my shoulder, biting and mewing her way up into my ear.

I impaled her into the door, obliterating her efforts as she screeched, her heels slamming into my ass. She was good- better than good- but I couldn't help but picture the Captain's wife, and her beautiful skin, her wonderful lips wrapped around my cock.

I lost whatever restraint remained in me, and took her harder against the door. Her mouth, her voice, never stopped; scream after scream, squeal into muted gasp. Her heels hammered into me, forcing me harder, her hands clamped onto my ass cheeks fit to drive me mad.

I felt her tighten, and rose higher to meet her as she came.

*****

I let her go, and she gave a ragged whisper, her hand moving between her legs, cupping her sex.

"Gosh, darling. You made a mess there, didn't you?"

I looked down, and saw that my groin, all over my cock and my jeans, was my come and hers intermingled. Lovely; my last pair.

"Look," I began, pissed off. "What the fuck is going on here?"

"Darling, that was rather nice, wasn't it? Perhaps you could come to my suite later, perhaps?"

I walked over to her, and took her ungently by her shoulders, bare to the touch above her corset. She looked away from me, her eyes distant, but her mouth opened, lips parted.

"My gosh, darling, are you able already?" She licked her lips.

"Are you even listening?"

Her eyes came into sharp focus, and she looked up at me, her face impassive, completely vacant. It was as though she was leached from her body, drawn away somewhere else.

"Darling," she said; her voice was harsh without emotion, the word awful without the meaning in behind it. "Don't go prying. The master does not like it when others poke their nose into his affairs."

I let her go; in an instant, the air had gone cold, the lights dimmer than they had before. I heard a snatch of the music I dimly remembered from my entrance into this place, and it shook me, playing its notes along my spine.

She returned to vivacity, and everything became as it was before, as though nothing had happened.

She looked over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling blue at me. Her teeth shone, as she smiled at me.

A warning, regardless.

*****

I walked along the corridor, lit through the windows that rimmed the ballroom. The dancers were still dancing, the music still playing. The Captain sat with his wife and with the blonde, clapping and laughing over and over, spinning in a cycle that made my head spin.

I wondered at that. I was never afraid, not once. I had never cared, at all, about anything; I took what I wanted, and was content.

I passed a doorway, and saw the maid through the gap.

I stopped, and looked through the entrance, and opened the door.

She was naked, and tied to the bedframe; her wrists with silken ties, her ankles with silver chains. She was face down; her perfect derriarre stuck out into the air, and I watched as she turned her head, looking in the direction of the door as I opened it. Alarm showed on her eyes, but it was not alone; she wanted, that much was obvious. Her eyes glowed black, as goosebumps followed my eyes along her nakedness.

"Sah, you shouldn't be he-ah. The captayne, he will..." I placed my finger against my lips; this place was fucked UP.

Still, I thought, as I pondered her on the bed. She was amazing with clothing on, before, but it wanted that ass. Wanted to feel myself inside it; wanted to hold it as I came inside her. It.

"Please..." She whispered. "I've been g-good sah... The Captain... He..."

I couldn't help it; I ran my fingers across her beautiful nakedness. She was cold; it was wonderful how her back arched to my hand.

I straddled her thighs, lying on top of her, my entire body pressed against her. I used my arms to keep my whole weight from her, but she sighed as she felt my warmth, making a mewling sound.

I was only a man.

"Sah..." She murmured softly.

I placed my hands against her neck.

"I'm going to fuck you," I said softly. "I'm going to take your ass."

She shivered; in so far as she could move, she arched herself, pressing against my groin.

I lowered my pants, and ran my finger between her legs. I started just above her clit, underneath her, lifting her hips. She was soaking; I wondered at that.

I lined myself up with her pussy lips, and covered myself with her; it sent thrills through me, burning tendrils of ice against my manhood. Her skin was dark, amazing against me; I marvelled at it, at the beautiful ass before me.

Mine.

I placed my cockhead against her, and pressed; she moaned. I thought my head would explode when she began to press back, pushing me in all the more eagerly.
She was so tight, gripping me. I was without thought, without words, beyond violence or desire to degrade her. I wanted to power into her, and to not stop until I burst, but she was so tight, even though she strained at me, to force me deeper, faster.

I eventually was fully in; she shivered once, twice, and I felt a flood of wetness between my legs; she writhed, as I held deep inside her ass.

I pulled away slowly, and pressed in as swiftly as I could; I knelt, and fucked her hard, over and over. I took her hair into my hands, and watched my cock moving in and out of that perfect ass.

I felt my end coming, and I held off, wanting to make it last longer; she had none of that.

I held deep, as far as I could go, in an effort to stop my climax; she slammed herself into me, which is to say not very effectively, but it was enough.

She shuddered as I came inside her, and her voice mingled with mine as I burst inside her ass, over and over. I think I thrust as I came, but I am not certain. I was a creature of instinct; I am a creature of instinct, but never more than in that situation.

I turned, straightened myself up, and left for the showers.

*****

I found myself dressing in the clothing contained within a wardrobe, in a suite worthy of the venue, when I returned to my room. I figured I might as well dine with them before leaving this odd place.

Just as I had finished dressing, the Captain's wife entered the room, and looked at me; looked me up and down, before quirking those perfect lips into what could be imagined as an expression of assent.

"Much better; you look rather dashing, a gentleman."

I shrugged. "I decided that if I was going to stay for tonight, I should probably be properly attired."

Then I shook myself; I don't talk like this. The lights dimmed, and I felt a chill, as though someone walked across my grave. Then, as before, it passed, and I forgot my moment of discomfort.

She held out her arm, and I linked it with mine. We walked together, to the dancing hall.

"Once dance, before we eat?" She asked me. I nodded, smiling. I had wanted her from the second I saw her; I felt the heat swelling within me. In that second I forgot that she was married, forgot her husband, as we two danced.

It was inappropriate, how closely we stood together; I have no doubt she could feel me, through my clothing. It was nothing short of a marvel that I could be aroused, given the women I had already bedded recently, but I was. But that could have been that it was her; her face, her shape, her smell. All of it overwhelmed, intoxicated; I desired her for the entire duration of having known her. I could see us on the mirrors on the ceiling, and I drew away a little.

She held me tightly. "We need to speak, you and I."

"What about, my dear?"

"About my husband; about sin."

We were silent. "Is that why we are dancing, so we can talk? Because there is no lying here?"

"Are you denying what lies between us?

"No."

"I never wanted to be his wife." She whispered, pressing her head against my chest.

"You are married, yes?"

"I... I suppose. It was about land, and we had known each other for the longest time. We grew together. Please do not ask me any more; it would break your heart to make me tell you more."

I held her close, and breathed her in, as the dancers circled us, laughing. They never stopped; never seemed to pay us mind; for a second, I wondered at that, but it passed over my thoughts like an ill wind.

"Come," she said, stepping back. "Let us dine."

*****

We sat; I was between the Captain's wife and the Lady Margaret again. Dinner was wonderful, despite the constant flirtations from the brazen woman. She was pretty enough, but I couldn't help being more focussed on the Captain's wife; the way she bore up in company, her manner. But she lowered her gaze under the Captain's eye; I wondered if he only ever tied the maids to the bed. I felt it beyond me to tie this gentle woman to anything. I couldn't do anything other than to make love to her softly, gently.