He may not be the man of her dreams, or a 'real' Dom, but he had just pushed the right buttons with the head teller at Houston First Federal, and when he dropped the key at her desk Friday, she put it in her purse without protest.
This time, at least, she didn't have to try and fit into any frilly little getups. The room, though not the same one as before, was identically decorated and had the same dank smell. Again, a part of Tracy couldn't believe she was here, but she hushed that part of herself and stripped off her banker's suit and silk blouse, hanging them carefully in the closet.
Hesitating in her bra and panties, she looked at herself in the mirror, trying to summon the courage to get completely naked for 'Master Guy.' He was due in five minutes, which made the decision easier for her. Without thinking anymore about it, she unclasped her bra and slid her little panties down her smooth thighs.
Tentatively she started to lie down on the polyester bedspread. It didn't smell especially fresh and she recoiled, images of clandestine couples copulating on it without even bothering to ready the bed. She remembered with a sheepish grin and a little shudder that that was precisely what she and Guy had done the last time.
Carefully she pulled the spread down, pinching an edge between finger and thumb to avoid contact with it as much as possible. At least the sheets looked clean, and they smelled like laundry detergent.
Hearing the key scrape in the lock, Tracy hurriedly lay down as she had been instructed, glad for his command that she be face down, as she hid her face in the crook of an elbow.
She heard him enter. "Very fine. Very fine indeed," he said, the drawl on in full force. Tracy tried to stay still, resisting her impulse to sit up and look around at him. She wanted this 'game' of theirs to be as real as possible.
She heard much rustling, zipping and unzipping of pants and duffel bags, and random sounds as Guy readied himself to 'take' his slave girl.
She could smell his cologne, which was a heavy piney scent she didn't particularly favor, as he stood near her and ordered, "Put your hands behind your back, just above that little ass of yours. Touch your wrists together and don't move, no matter what I do."
Tracy obeyed, and her pulse had begun to race as she felt his large hand on her wrists. And then the rope, a thin but very strong nylon that he had cut into strips in preparation for binding his slave girl.
She felt the nylon close tightly against her wrists, pulling them together, ratcheting her arms up higher against her back so that she was almost uncomfortable and certainly immobilized.
Tentatively she tried the bonds, pulling gently at first, then harder, against the rope. It didn't budge. Guy remembered his knot tying skills from his Boy Scout days, and had finally found a good use for them.
Tracy felt that thrill of being bound; of being unable to escape. A certain indefinable languor seemed to settle over her, and her breathing slowed from its shallow flutter to something deeper and more profound.
She gasped when he pulled her head up by the hair and slipped a scarf around her mouth, tying it behind her head. Unaware of what was happening with Tracy, only knowing that his own erection was almost painful against his proper white briefs, Guy moved quickly, slipping a pillow under Tracy's hips to make her inviting ass and pussy more accessible to his attentions.
She had expected him to tie her feet at the ankles, and so was surprised when he pulled one ankle and looped rope over it, securing it against a corner of the mattress by tying off the rope underneath the bed to the metal bed frame.
Then the other ankle, forcing Tracy to splay her legs and offer her sex like the captive whore she was at that moment, open for whatever this man planned to do to her. Even though it was only Guy, the experience was an intense one for Tracy, who had only ever dreamed of being completely bound and truly at another's mercy.
She felt his hand, large and warm against her bottom, as he smoothed and kneaded the flesh for a moment. Then a light slap. Was she going to get another spanking?
Tracy wriggled slightly, recognizing that her body was eager for another spanking; her ass tingled with anticipation, but she was disappointed. Guy was too eager to fuck this delectable slut he had tied, spread eagle, on the bed before him. Had she known, Guy wasn't especially dominant at all. He didn't care a whit about the finer aspects of control and submission.
No, his interests lay in subduing a woman. In holding her down and taking her by force; in tying her up so she couldn't resist him and then fucking the shit out of her. Where Paul was subtle and deeply romantic in his dominant tendencies, Guy was practical. He knew what got him off and he sought it out.
Usually his only release came from porno downloaded from the net, or videos watched furtively in the middle of the night while his wife snored softly in the upstairs master bedroom, wrapped in the armor of her full length nightgown and no nonsense cotton briefs. Their two little children snuffled in their own dreams, tucked snuggly in their designer bedrooms down the hall.
Today he had the real thing, and by God, he wasn't going to waste another minute with foreplay. If he'd taken the time to think about it, he knew Tracy wanted it. Too bad, she was his cunt for this hour, and he would do as he pleased.
With only a cursory exploration of her spread pussy, to make sure she was wet enough for him to use her, Guy straddled Tracy and entered her from behind. Moaning his pleasure, he immediately began to buck and writhe on top of her.
He was heavy against Tracy's thighs, and she felt his fat belly slap against her back as he fucked her unceremoniously. What the hell was she doing here? How had she let this happen? The erotic sexual languor that Guy had succeeded in creating by binding her was completely erased by his base and animal claiming of her, as if she were a dog or a pig in heat.
He came into her, jerking himself roughly against her, hurting her still bound arms as he fell heavily onto her. Quickly he rolled off, his penis rapidly going flaccid. He lay still next to Tracy, and said, "Shit. You were just too fucking sexy. I couldn't help it. Next time it'll be for you, I promise." As he spoke, he removed the scarf gag from Tracy's face, then collapsed with a satiated sigh next to her.
She realized with a sharp prick of disappointment that he was done. Like so many men, the second he orgasmed, the jig was up; the game was over. If he had been her lover she would have protested, but it came to her with startling clarity that he most emphatically was not her lover, and not even her friend.
He had used her, plain and simple. He had played upon her desires, taking advantage of her virginal ardency to taste the forbidden pleasures he seemed to offer. Despite the trappings of bondage, what had really just happened was a typical, 'wham bam thank you ma'am'.
She felt used, and frustrated. "Untie me, Guy," she said, her voice tight with controlled anger.
Perhaps Guy sensed at last that she was upset, because he tried to 'clean it up' by saying, "That's right, slave girl. I'm going to untie you so you can make yourself come for me. You're gonna make yourself come, like the slut you are."
Tracy didn't respond, waiting until he had released her before saying, "Wrong, Guy. I'm going to get dressed and go home."
"What?!" Guy spluttered, attempting outrage, thinking she was still playing a role. He seemed to be trying to figure out if it was 'stubborn maiden needing to be subdued' or 'haughty whore' needing to be put in her place. Truth to tell, the excitement of tying her down and fucking her like that had completely worn him out and what he really wanted to do was take a nap.