Fiction Friday: Mistress's Rendezvous - Part II

(continuation of last Friday’s fictional adventure. If you missed it, check out our January 29^th entry).

“That was cruel”, Mistress whispered as Robert, her new Dom, led her toward the hotel’s elevator bank. She was thinking of her humiliated husband, back in that booth, watching them as she was led away.

“Oh. And isn’t a bit of cruelty exactly what the two of you signed up for, ‘Mistress’”, he said,  sarcasm mixed with a little chuckle, the grip on her elbow tightening.

“I’m just taking you  where that pervy little Blog of yours says you both want to go. But we are on my schedule now, Pet.  You’re just having a little trouble giving up control.”

No fooling.  Molly could not help but twist the wrists tied so tightly behind her back. The loss of control had her heart racing. And she was still dripping from the fingers that had her on the edge back in the Bar as her Slave looked on with that sad, helpless feeling on his face.

“Yes… Sir. I suppose I am.”

The elevator door slid open.  His arm propelled her inside. An older couple, adorned with Rotary Convention regalia, joined them, eying Molly’s slightly too short for the heartland outfit with disapproval, curious about why her hands were hidden behind her back, under that jacket. 

Somehow Robert positioned himself behind her. She could feel his knee pressing between her legs, spreading them oh so slightly. His hand on her hip, controlling her still.  Molly blushed, eyes forward. Trying to tune them out. But she could not pull away.

Robert went into charming mode, amiably questioning the Rotarians about their small Indiana town, not so far from his campus. Apparently he was not always the smug take charge fellow of the last hour or so. Interesting.

The elevator lurched to a stop, reminding Molly how dizzy and weak in the knees she had become, but he steadied her as the older couple wished them well and stepped off.

The door closed, the elevator resuming its ascent. But then Robert reached forward, pressing the stop button.

“They were wondering about you, Slut”.  

Then it all happened so fast.

With his quick forceful shove, Molly was pressed face forward, hard against the elevator’s wall.

His left hand clutched her breast, fingers squeezing a nipple, making her cry out, face buried against the compartment’s carpeted wall, muffling her.

A foot kicked her legs apart.

His right hand found its way up above her stocking tops.

“Do you think they recognized that not so subtle fragrance, Pet?  We’ ll call it ‘Slut in heat.’”

His face was against her ear, his lips sucking in the skin at her neck. Consuming her.

“Oh, God. Don’t, please….”

Now his fingers were back at it, pushing those skimpy panties aside,  sliding into her. Squishing sounds confirmed how wet she was, her juices covering his hand. She ground against his palm and fingers. Shameless. Lost.

“’Don’t’ is not a word to use around me, Pet. It just makes me want to ‘Do’”.

A wet thumb suddenly plunged into her ass, as fingers spread her lips and plucked at her, driving her far over the edge, making her cry out, tears streaming down her face. He knees gave way.

His arms supported her now, easing her slowly to the floor.  She buried her head, sobbing, gasping to catch her breath, head spinning. 

Now he was quiet. Still. Comforting. His hand gently stroking her hair.

When the sobbing finally stopped, he helped her to her feet, holding her close so she could bury her makeup streaked face in his shoulder. She felt his hand move to the elevator’s control panel, and the car lurching back to life.

He whispered into her ear. 

“You forgot to ask permission, Molly. You know what that means, don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir.”